I Cannot Hear The Filthy City: A Noise-Fueled Assault on Your Senses
If you’re into experimental electronic music that punches you in the face and then kicks you while you're down, I Cannot Hear The Filthy City by Shelter Death is probably your jam. This 2018 release from Crystalline Morphologies isn’t just an album—it’s a full-blown sensory attack. Christopher Reid Martin, who wears about five hats here (composer, photographer, probably coffee brewer), delivers some of the most abrasive yet oddly mesmerizing noise this side of sanity.
Let’s cut to the chase. Tracks like "Advents Of Horror And Insatiability" hit hard—like someone took a jackhammer to your skull and then whispered sweet nothings into your ear. It’s chaotic as hell but layered with these eerie undertones that make it stick. You don’t just listen to it; you endure it. That track gets stuck in my head not because it's catchy, but because it feels like it’s haunting me. Like, damn, Chris, what did I do to deserve this?
Then there’s "I Cannot Here My Interoception," which sounds like a broken synth having an existential crisis. The glitchy loops spiral out of control, and halfway through, you realize it’s less of a song and more of a fever dream. But somehow, it works. It’s raw, unfiltered, and completely unhinged—basically everything good noise should be. Every time I hear it, I feel like I’m losing grip on reality, and honestly? That’s kinda awesome.
The rest of the album keeps up the same relentless energy. Titles like "Too Young To Earn" and "By The Time I Get To The Time I Was Away" are cryptic AF, but they fit perfectly with the vibe. Nothing here feels polished or safe, and that’s exactly why it slaps so hard. This ain’t background music for sipping lattes at a café. This is the soundtrack to staring at a cracked mirror at 3 AM, questioning every life choice you’ve ever made.
And can we talk about how Christopher Reid Martin handled everything himself? Dude didn’t phone it in—he lived this project. From the disorienting soundscapes to the stark photography, it all ties together into one cohesive package of auditory chaos.
So yeah, if you’re looking for something easy to digest, skip this. But if you want noise that challenges you, fucks with your brain, and leaves you wondering whether you loved it or hated it, I Cannot Hear The Filthy City is worth your time. Honestly, listening to this album feels like getting mugged by art—and weirdly enough, I kinda enjoyed it.
Now excuse me while I go lie down and recover from whatever the hell just happened.
