Seven Spears by Saidrum: A Sonic Jab in the Dark
If you’re into electronic music that doesn’t just sit there looking pretty but instead punches you in the brain (in a good way), Seven Spears by Saidrum is your jam. Released in 2004 under Japan’s Revirth label, this album isn’t your run-of-the-mill chillout playlist or dancefloor banger—it’s experimental as heck, blending IDM, breakbeat, and whatever else Saidrum felt like throwing into the mix. And honestly? It works.
The mastering wizardry of Rashad Becker and mixing finesse from Numb give the record a crispness that makes it feel alive, even when it’s being all glitchy and weird. Let’s dive into two tracks that stuck with me like gum on a shoe.
First up, “Taggswheel.” Imagine if someone took a drum machine, shook it violently, and then let it stumble around drunk while trying to remember how to play itself. That’s “Taggswheel” for ya. It’s chaotic yet oddly rhythmic, like watching an over-caffeinated octopus DJ at 3 AM. The beats zigzag unpredictably, but somehow they glue together perfectly. You can tell Saidrum wasn’t aiming for perfection here—they were aiming for something more raw and untamed. And boy, does it hit.
Then there’s “Godfish.” This track feels like stepping into a neon-lit aquarium where the fish are having some kind of existential crisis. There’s this watery vibe running through it, paired with sharp, staccato synths that sound like alien Morse code. At one point, I swear I heard what could only be described as a digital dolphin crying out for help—or maybe celebrating? Either way, it’s haunting and beautiful, like finding poetry scrawled on the back of a napkin in a bar bathroom.
Now, about that closing track, “Seven-Spears”—it ties everything up with a bow made of jagged wires and static bursts. But honestly, after listening to this album, I found myself wondering: Did Saidrum create these sounds intentionally, or did they just trip over their own cables and accidentally invent genius? Whatever the case, kudos to them.
So yeah, Seven Spears isn’t for everyone. If you’re looking for easy listening, go stream some lo-fi beats or whatever TikTok’s shoving down your throat these days. But if you want music that challenges you, tickles your ears, and occasionally confuses the heck out of you, this is gold. Plus, it came out in 2004, which means it predates most of the EDM crap we hear now. Respect.
Final thought: Listening to this album feels like hacking into a secret server full of forgotten files labeled “DO NOT OPEN.” Spoiler alert—you totally should open them.
