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Voodoo Child The End Of Everything LP – CD Trophy Records

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Trym Søvdsnes Trym Søvdsnes

Dubby acidic ravers reductions from Bergen-based newcomer Trym Søvdsnes, who arrives on Smalltown Supersound's Le Jazz Non series (with a killer rollcall of releases from Pavel Milyakov & Bendik Giske, Pauline Oliveros & Reynols, Lasse Marhaug, Arve Henriksen & Kjetil Husebø, Johanna Orellana and more so far), with four extended chunks of grubby analog club music - prime gear for Dozzy, Zenker Brothers or Rod Modell disciples. Søvdsnes is a relative newcomer to the scene, but he's been putting in work in and around Bergen for years, scoring a residency at the infamous Café Opera, where he snagged the attention of local house legend Bjørn Torske. Soon, the duo were DJing, producing and performing together, eventually running the monthly radio show Pigs in Space where they would go head-to-head for six hours at a time, plumbing the depths of their immense record collections. It's this lust for bottom-of-the-crate oddities that guides Søvdsnes' self-titled debut album, a concoction of dub techno, hard-swung house and percussive club music that positions itself a few paces away from any conventional modes. Basically, a perfect fit for Le Jazz Non. 'Gølles Dans' opens with a filtered acid bassline and bone dry kick that’s like some psychedelic, slower variant of Basic Channel’s ‘Enforcement’, slicing into the groove with gristly acoustic percussion that drags it up from the basement. The producer leans into asymmetry on 'Døgnrytmen', wrangling 303 squelches with booming Berghain kicks and tight snares, enhancing the psychedelic potential by layering ticking percussion into loopy spirals. If you've ever caught an extended Dozzy set, this is the kind of ruff-edged gear he would likely play an hour before sunrise. 'Ordnings Mix' is weirder still, slopping chirpy bleep/rave stabs into a jazzy hybrid that sounds like a bossa meltdown. Søvdsnes saves his most cosmic mettle for last, on 'Cowboy Acid (Solstikk Dub)' he strips the kickdrum to a faint knock, before building up into a sort of screwed Metro Area mirrorball that sounds brilliantly out of time.
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