HEADLAMPS from NEURO by CURA MACHINES
N E U R O
CURA MACHINES
What the listener might encounter on this album goes all the way down to the sound of a neuron transmitting pain, beatitude or any one of the countless senses and impressions we feel on any one day of life. N E U R O is the debut album by CURA MACHINES, a new project by Daniel Lea whose tracks are at once scientific in their capturing of the morphing of body cells as well as the larger expanses of a poetic filmscape of the contemporary metropolis.
The name CURA MACHINES comes from a sign Lea saw on a trip to Ancona, Italy at an abandoned hospital: Prima E Dopo La Cura (Before and after the cure). The sound in between, of what was lost or found, transmuted in the heavily manipulated and pulsating synthesisers, is the restoration here. With a physically visceral mix by Ben Frost and soaring re-amped bass textures from Yair Elazar Glotman, the album is lush with trans-morphing apeggia that shudder, quack and soar into ashen sparks.
Back in the turn of the 20th century the poet Rilke posited that the suture patterns of fused skull plates could potentially be played by the then-new technology of the gramophone, with each of us having our own personal tonal source code or anthem etched onto our skulls. And with a track like ‘Suture’ we have such an embodied sound: the close-up exhumation of the neural brain casing, stitched and sewn together in fleeting pulses of whisper and alarm.
The individual is exposed and isolated, but not without the promise of succour.
Or one also has the soundtrack to the loneliness of a morose private eye – a pulp novel set in a future time of neurosis or washed out euphoric beauty. It is here in tracks such as ‘Terminal Zone’ or ‘Inversion Layers’, music that is blinking in celluloid frames. The plot could easily be a sci-fi, paranoid tale of brain emulation, transhumanist crimes against humanity itself. After all this is Lea’s soundtrack to Los Angeles, the city of angels that has been captured in countless movies: the racing tracking shot of the 2nd Street Tunnel at night, the freeways spreading out in a glorious sprawl of lit up veins and arteries. The last track ‘Zosa’ marks out the boundary line that delineates between day and night, when the lunar strains wane, the tides subside and the city comes to life.
