Irrational Advice by Demdike Stare: A Weird, Wonderful Sonic Puzzle
Alright, let’s get into this. Irrational Advice is one of those albums that doesn’t just sit in the background—it grabs you by the ears and makes you pay attention. Released back in 2011 on Modern Love (a label known for pushing boundaries), it’s a wild mix of genres like Electronic, Experimental, Jazz, and even bits of Stage & Screen vibes. The UK duo Demdike Stare are basically sonic alchemists here, blending abstract sounds with techno beats and musique concrète weirdness. If you’re looking for something chill or predictable, nah, this ain’t it.
First off, I gotta talk about “Comes Unbidden.” This track? It’s haunting as hell. Like, imagine walking through an abandoned warehouse at night while someone whispers things you can’t quite make out. That’s what this feels like. The atmosphere is thick, almost suffocating, but in the best way possible. You don’t listen to it—you experience it. There’s no clear beginning or end; it just exists, floating somewhere between reality and dreams. Honestly, I remember this one because it stuck with me for days after hearing it. Not many tracks do that.
Then there’s “Goddess Eyes,” which hits different. It starts off all moody and slow-burning, like a storm brewing on the horizon. But then BAM—the beat drops, and suddenly you’re transported to some dystopian dance floor. The rhythm is hypnotic, pulling you deeper and deeper until you forget where you are. It’s not your typical banger though—it’s got layers, textures, and moments that feel almost accidental, like they stumbled onto something magical without trying too hard. This track reminds me why Demdike Stare are so good at what they do—they take risks, and most of the time, those risks pay off big time.
Now, sure, the album has its quieter moments too, like “Prayer” or “Melos E Psiche (Excerpt).” These pieces feel more introspective, almost meditative. They give you space to breathe before diving back into the chaos. And honestly, that balance is key. Without these breaks, the whole thing might feel overwhelming. But instead, it flows like a strange, unpredictable journey—one you didn’t know you needed.
What really stands out about Irrational Advice is how unapologetically experimental it is. Nothing feels forced or pretentious. It’s messy, raw, and kinda beautiful in its imperfection. Listening to it feels like eavesdropping on a conversation you weren’t meant to hear—a little uncomfortable, but totally fascinating.
Here’s the random thought that hit me while writing this: if aliens landed tomorrow and asked us to explain human creativity, I’d hand them this album. Sure, they might not get it, but hey, neither do we sometimes—and maybe that’s the point.
So yeah, check it out if you’re up for something challenging yet rewarding. Just don’t expect easy answers.
