News Alps

It’s weird to think about how being born in another time and place could’ve affected your development. Chris Hearn lives in New South Wales, Australia. Given the kind of racket that he’s making over there, it’s dizzying to imagine the kind of stuff he’d be producing if he’s spent a couple of years playing with noise bands at The Smell or mooching around New York, hanging with all the hipsters.

In truth though, there’s little that could improve the quality of his music – a twitchy racket that belies the fact that he’s essentially just one man with a mini KORG scratching around for rhythms. At his most aggressive, he’s somewhere close to the abrasive brilliance of an electronic No Age in full flight, limited only by the amount of arms he has at his disposal. During his more introspective moments, he’s content to bash around, finding melodies and harmony in the strangest of places, dabbling in distortion and happy to scour through the unpalatable to find something of unmistakable brilliance.

Though a change of scenery might not have done much to alter his music, it certainly shoud’ve changed the opportunities afforded him. Located on one of the coasts of America, it’s hard to imagine one of the legions of limited releases labels would’ve passed up on putting out latest album ‘Alps Of New South Wails’ under their imprint. For the moment, though, Hearn has to go it alone, putting out his fourth effort by himself on 12’ vinyl. Lap it up.