Brigantia by Corax: A Sonic Headtrip You Didn’t Know You Needed
Alright, buckle up, because Brigantia by Corax is one of those albums that feels like it crawled out of some shadowy corner of the UK’s electronic underground and decided to slap you across the face with its weirdness. Released in 2016 on Rodz-Konez (a label that clearly doesn’t mess around), this thing is a wild mashup of experimental vibes and techno grit. It’s not for everyone—hell, it might not even be for me—but damn if it isn’t memorable.
Let’s dive into two tracks that stuck with me like gum on a shoe.
First off, we’ve got “Cernunnos.” If I had to describe this track in three words? Dark, twitchy, and kinda unhinged. The bassline growls like an angry cat at 3 AM, while these glitchy synths flit around like moths circling a streetlamp. There’s something primal about it, like it’s channeling ancient forest spirits or whatever Cernunnos was supposed to be (Google tells me it’s a Celtic horned god, so… yeah). But here’s the kicker—it’s catchy as hell. Like, I found myself humming bits of it while waiting in line at Tesco, which felt deeply inappropriate but also kind of badass.
Then there’s “Andrasta,” which sounds like what would happen if Aphex Twin got into a fight with a drum machine and neither side won. This track has teeth. Sharp ones. It starts off all brooding and mysterious, then suddenly explodes into this chaotic rave-up that makes your brain go “wait, WHAT?” It’s messy, sure, but intentionally so—like when someone spills paint everywhere and calls it art. And honestly? That energy works. By the time it finishes, you’re left sweaty and slightly confused, but also weirdly exhilarated.
Now, let’s talk about the rest of the album real quick. Tracks like “Brigantia” and “Belatucadrus” keep the vibe going strong, though they don’t quite hit the same highs as the first two. Still, props to Corax for keeping things interesting throughout—you never know whether the next beat will hypnotize you or just straight-up assault your eardrums.
Here’s the thing about Brigantia: it’s not perfect. Some parts feel a little too indulgent, like Corax forgot we mere mortals need breathing room between sonic assaults. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe this album isn’t meant to comfort you; maybe it’s meant to challenge you, throw you off balance, and leave you questioning everything you thought you knew about music. Or maybe Corax just really likes making people uncomfortable. Who knows?
Final thought: Listening to Brigantia feels like being invited to a secret party where everyone speaks a language you only half-understand, but somehow you still end up having the best night of your life. Oh, and fun fact—I now have a tattoo idea inspired by this album. Don’t ask me what, though. Even I don’t know yet.
So yeah, give Brigantia a spin if you’re ready to trade predictable beats for something genuinely strange and unforgettable. Just don’t blame me if it haunts your dreams.
