0EO by Proswell: A Glitchy Love Letter to the Early 2000s
Let’s get one thing straight—Proswell’s 0EO isn’t your typical electronic album. Released in 2001 under Monotonik (shoutout to the label heads for keeping this gem alive), it’s a quirky, brain-tickling ride through the world of IDM. For those unfamiliar with the genre, think of it as the musical equivalent of trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube while riding a unicycle. It’s intricate, unpredictable, and occasionally makes you question your sanity—but in a good way.
The first thing that grabs you about 0EO is its vibe. This isn’t background music; it demands your attention like an overenthusiastic cat knocking stuff off your desk. The track “0EO” itself kicks things off with a flurry of bleeps, bloops, and beats that feel like they’re being assembled and disassembled in real-time. There’s something almost playful about how Proswell messes with rhythm—you can practically hear him grinning behind the knobs. It’s chaotic but never overwhelming, like watching someone juggle knives while humming a tune.
Then there’s another standout, let’s call it… uh, well, actually, the album only has one named track, so we’ll stick with “0EO.” But seriously, this single piece says more in its runtime than most albums manage in their entirety. The way it layers sounds feels like flipping through a photo album where every picture moves and talks back to you. One moment you’re vibing to these crisp, glitchy percussion hits, and the next, some ethereal synth line floats in like a ghost humming in binary code. You don’t just listen to this track—you live inside it for a bit.
Props also go to Rents for the artwork, which perfectly matches the sonic chaos within. It’s all abstract shapes and muted colors, looking like what might happen if a computer dreamed about painting. Honestly, it’s the kind of cover that makes you want to frame it, even if you’re not entirely sure why.
Reflecting on 0EO, it’s wild to think this album dropped over two decades ago. Back then, the internet was still figuring itself out, Napster was wreaking havoc, and yet here was Proswell crafting something so ahead of its time. Listening to it now feels like finding a note from your past self, except the handwriting is smudged, and half the words are in a language you’ve forgotten.
So yeah, give 0EO a spin if you’re into music that challenges as much as it entertains. Just don’t blame me if you start hearing clicks and whirs in your sleep afterward. Oh, and fun fact? I once read somewhere that Proswell created this album using software older than most TikTok users. How’s that for staying power?
