a lonely atmosphere... a forest on a misty autumn day... constructed by heavy drones, pulsating beat-like structures and lyrics in a unfamiliar sounding language... strops are taking us out of the comfort and warmth of our hiding place called life, guiding us on a dark and also mysterious journey like they did last year on 'likuma burts'. the echoing voice - with a tinge of lament - supports the feeling of being desolate, but the hypnotic eastern cold is so addictive. the breath of wrecked machines seeps through the album, transported by amphoric sounds created through heavy manipulation of the sound of steel drums... 'industrial culture in its initial forms should be a mirror of the past and postulation of the future' according to yoric; the mind behind strops' thought-provoking music. this provocation is being emphasized through the use texts by german poet georg trakl. reflecting the past by literature from a victim of world war I, embedding it in pulsating sounds, this title-less masterpiece demands your full attention. the artwork reflects the music perfectly: arranged hexagonal nuts on a rusty background, referring to a beehive (being the translation of strops into english) as well as the origin of the sounds. clear repetitive structures versus threatening drones and tangible metal sounds; gained out of rusty steel. as simple as the structure of a beehive is, as complex is the formation of what is transported to the listeners mind. every friend of non-easy listening and frowning sound-scapes will be fascinated by this new release on raubbau. the beehive is humming again.
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