Album Review: LW by Дисциплина И Порядок – A Sonic Punch to the Gut
So, you know how sometimes music just hits? Like, it doesn’t even ask for permission—it barges into your brain and sets up camp. That’s what happened when I stumbled upon LW, the 2016 noise-electronic beast from Russian outfit Дисциплина И Порядок (Disciplina i Poryadok). Released under Wall Noise Action, this album feels like someone took a blender full of broken glass, staticky radio signals, and raw emotion, then hit puree.
Let me start with the title track, “LW.” Holy smokes, this thing is wild. It opens with this low-end rumble that builds tension faster than waiting for a text back from someone who ghosted you. Then BAM—layers of screeching synths crash in like an uninvited house party. The chaos isn’t random though; there’s structure buried deep beneath all the madness. You can tell these guys are meticulous about their destruction, if that makes sense. By the time it ends, you’re left breathless, kinda like after running away from something scary but also kinda thrilling.
Another standout is… well, actually, let’s be real here—the whole album bleeds together in this glorious mess, but one moment sticks out. There's this other track—I won’t name names because honestly half the fun is figuring out where one ends and another begins—but around the three-minute mark, there's this glitchy breakdown that sounds like a robot having an existential crisis. It’s haunting as hell, but also kinda funny? Like, imagine Data from Star Trek losing his cool over spilled oil or whatever robots cry over.
What keeps me coming back to LW isn’t just its technical brilliance—it’s the way it makes me feel. Confused, exhilarated, slightly terrified, and oddly comforted all at once. It’s not background music; it demands your attention, almost aggressively so. And yeah, sure, some might call it abrasive or too much, but life itself is kinda abrasive and too much, right?
Here’s the kicker: listening to this album feels like eavesdropping on a secret conversation between machines plotting humanity’s downfall. But instead of being scared, you find yourself rooting for them. Maybe we deserve it. Or maybe I’ve been staring at my headphones too long. Either way, LW is unforgettable—a jagged little gem that cuts deeper every time you press play.
