Auxiliary Priest makes static-drenched electronic music that sounds as though it was beamed in from distant corner of the universe. And on his recently released self-titled album, the anonymous artist finds rhythm and regularity on the periphery of sustained noise. Slathered in tape hiss and murky layers of dense electronics, Auxiliary Priest’s music is not exactly radio friendly. This is demanding music but not so much that it becomes frustrating. And the reward of finding a slowly drawn out melody buried under a metric ton of distortion and gloom is all the more sweet when considering the effort that you put forth into discover it. On the recent song, “Eta Carinae,” waves of bristling synths and degrading rhythms converge at a fixed point in space and implode, drawing in everything around them. This is the distorted sound of space’s communal memory. Let the noise surge through you below.
