#19 Feat. Staff Picks in Drum & Bass

Emitted from the deepest reaches of the universe is a tapestry of interwoven electromagnetic spectra for those with the eyes to see it, a collection of purples, reds, blues, and other hues each painted onto the telescopic canvas by the distances that intercede their transmission and reception. Chief amongst these stellar artists are nebulae, swirling gaseous masses from whence are birthed new stars and eventually the planets that shall orbit them, oft referred to as the stellar nursery and seen by some as the primeval crucible of all life. Indeed, these resplendently colorful and churning seas of the universes elemental energies bear the responsibility for all life - that which is known and that which lurks unseen alike. Within their depths are born creatures unimaginable, formed beyond any terrestrial realm and independent of the laws that govern the ways of life upon them. Their hulking bodies are rendered on a cosmic scale, growing to gargantuan size amidst the stellar mists in which they find their homes. There they lie in wait for one who may gaze for long enough at such places to unknowingly summon their presence, a feat granting them passage to the plane material and madness upon their woe-begotten observer. Thus has been the fate of many an overaccomplished astrologer who fails to beware the COLOURS OF SPACE and continues on in ignorance of the horrors that lie within. TASK HORIZON return to EATBRAIN with COLOURS OF SPACE, an EP in which the trio summons forth cosmic soundscapes guaranteed to have a maddening effect on the ears of the EATBRAIN horde. Written by Gwen Kubik

Task Horizon, The Velvet Effect

#68 Feat. Staff Picks in Drum & Bass

Prequel: The Dawning Path or The Mercenarys Oath As the sun rose to crest the horizon and cast long shadows across the desolate plain, five figures shrouded in the dust of their exploits rode towards the rising light. Sonny Jim and Scruggs, two amongst them known for their sharp eyes and quicker guns, led the group of mercenaries. At their sides rode a trio of compatriots; Eli Deadeye Brown, a sharpshooter with a calm and steady demeanor, Big Jack, a towering brute whose strength was matched only by his loyalty, and Finn Redbeard OReilly, a redheaded cowboy with a long, fiery beard and a knack for nitroglycerin. Jim, Scruggs said, breaking the silence. Ever think bout what brought us here? Sonny Jim adjusted his hat, squinting at the distant mountains. Reckon its the same thing that drives most folks—need for coin, and a thirst for something more. Their early days as mercenaries had been a blur of contracts and confrontations. They had carved out a reputation as relentless hunters, willing to take on any task for the right price. This reputation had now brought them to the bustling town of Copper Creek, a frontier settlement teeming with traders, prospectors, and more than its fair share of rogues. It was here that they received their next assignment—a wealthy patron seeking protection for an expedition into the untamed wilderness, and a chance for them to delve into the mysterious lands that lay beyond the known territories of the country that they called their home. Inside the Copper Pot Saloon at the heart of town, a portly man with a nervous disposition introduced himself as Dalton, their would-be financier. Ive heard tales of your exploits. I need men of your caliber to ensure the safety of my venture, came his opening pitch. Though of shrewd business acumen, Daltons tone ran wary in the face of the veteran mercenaries he now spoke with. Scruggs leaned back, eyeing the man carefully. What exactly are we protectin, Mr. Dalton? Artifacts, Dalton replied, lowering his voice to a whisper. Ancient relics said to hold unimaginable power. We believe they are located deep within the Heartland Woods, in territory no sane man would dare venture alone. Sonny Jim exchanged a glance with Scruggs. They both knew the risks, but the promise of wealth and the allure of the unknown were too tempting to pass up. Some days later, as the Dalton convoy embarked on its first forays into the Heartland Woods, the mercenaries remarked on the foreign energies that suffused the trees that surrounded them. Their branches intertwined to create a canopy that filtered the sunlight into shifting patterns on the forest floor. The wind that whipped through them whispered into ones ear as though an everpresent voice, and the deeper that the convoy ventured, the more this voice seemed almost to speak in whispers of an ancient and long-forgotten past. As they continued through the treacherous terrain, fending off wild beasts and under the constant threat of a bandit raid, the group proved their mettle, each members abilities finding purchase in defending their expedition. Sonny Jims instincts gave warning to Deadeye Browns unerring aim, whilst Scruggs expert navigation guided the brute strength of Big Jack and the explosive temperament of Redbeard OReilly against the groups obstacles as a nail guides the blow of a hammer. Deeper and deeper the group ventured, and though they grew accustomed to the environment that now enveloped them none could shake the presence that had followed them within these woods from their very first step. One night, as they camped by a clear stream, Scruggs turned to Sonny Jim. These woods... they aint natural. Feels like theyre watchin us. Sonny Jim nodded, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames. Theres a power here, old and restless. We need to be on our guard. Story by Gwen Kubik

Jakes, Burr Oak, Multiplex, KNARS

#95 Feat. Staff Picks in Drum & Bass

In the long history of recorded music, tales abound of sonic sequences possessed of a supernatural power. Their supposed abilities vary widely, from the summoning of malevolent spirits when played in reverse to the hypnotizing of the listeners mind or the implantation of subversive suggestions hidden within their soundwaves. Such stories are quite often flights of pure fantasy bred from the fears and delusions of those who position themselves against certain musical stylings, but within their tellings lie small grains of truth - for there do exist such sequences of sonic power, waiting in fragmentary records to be unleashed upon the world once more. Musical scales have been crafted to prevent the accidental genesis of such powerful sounds, and even those who possess partial knowledge scarcely seek to pursue their full and terrible truth. Chief among all of these is the most harrowing of all, a bone-chilling tonal ratio that, like the wail of the mythical banshee spirit, saps the very life from the bodies of its victims as its resonances pierce the very brain that senses them. Though once impossible to recreate, the correct sequence of failures in modern electronics now renews the possibility of its generation upon the mortal world. Beware to the listener! For the KILLA SOUND lurks just behind the speaker coil. PROLIX returns to EATBRAIN with KILLA SOUND, the latest single from the Neurofunk heavyweight which delivers on the destructive promise of its title across two tracks that target their terrifying power upon the undead ears of the EATBRAIN horde. Written by Gwen Kubik

Prolix