Combines Five Electronic Essays: A Raw, Unfiltered Look at Perry Botkin’s Sonic Chaos
Alright, let’s get this straight—Perry Botkin’s Combines Five Electronic Essays isn’t your run-of-the-mill electronic album. Released in ‘93 under his own label P. Botkin Music Co., this thing hits like a punch to the gut. It’s modern, gritty, and unapologetically weird. If you’re looking for something polished or radio-friendly, turn back now. This is music that makes you feel uncomfortable in all the right ways.
First off, let’s talk about “22 Machines.” Holy crap, this track is an absolute beast. It’s industrial-grade noise meets some kind of dystopian dream sequence. The beats are jagged, almost like they were ripped out of a broken machine and stitched together by a mad scientist. Every time I hear it, I imagine walking through a factory where robots have gone rogue—it’s chaotic but oddly hypnotic. You don’t just listen to “22 Machines”; it consumes you. Like, I couldn’t shake it off for days after my first spin. That’s how you know it’s good—when it sticks to your brain like gum on a hot sidewalk.
Then there’s “Auto Erotica,” which is… well, exactly what it sounds like. It’s sleazy, mechanical, and dripping with attitude. The synths pulse like a heartbeat on steroids while these glitchy textures crawl all over you. There’s something unsettlingly intimate about it, like eavesdropping on someone else’s secret obsession. Honestly, it’s one of those tracks that feels dangerous to play too loud—you might piss off your neighbors or, worse, yourself. But damn if it doesn’t make you want to crank the volume anyway.
The rest of the album? Equally wild. Tracks like “Feathers” and “Conversation On The Citizen Band” keep the energy high but take detours into stranger territory. Feathers flutters around like its namesake, light yet sharp enough to cut you, while Conversation dives headfirst into static-laden chaos. And yeah, Women Who Won’t Give You The Time Of Day lives up to its ridiculous title—it’s bratty, confrontational, and totally unforgettable.
What really seals the deal here is the fact that Perry Botkin didn’t phone this one in. He wrote, composed, and basically birthed this entire project himself. James Harbert adds some liner notes, sure, but this is Botkin’s baby from start to finish. You can tell he poured everything he had into these five essays, crafting soundscapes that feel more like experiments than songs. It’s not perfect—hell, sometimes it’s downright messy—but that’s what makes it so compelling.
Here’s the kicker though: listening to Combines Five Electronic Essays feels like stepping into another dimension. One minute you’re vibing, the next you’re questioning your life choices. And honestly? That’s kinda beautiful. In a world full of cookie-cutter albums, Botkin reminds us that music can still be strange, daring, and completely unpredictable.
So go ahead, give it a shot. Just don’t blame me if your ears start bleeding—or begging for more.
