Beau Wanzer’s music sometimes makes me think of the kids I knew growing up who stayed up really late in their parents’ basements to smoke pot, watch B-movie horror flicks and discuss esoteric shit with a side of junk food. In aural terms, the Midwesterner producer makes spooky, straight-to-tape hardware jams that often feature samples of creepy laughter and unsettling vocal snippets, murky sound palettes and oozing rhythms. Take “Groove’s No Zone” from his first untitled LP: as echo-y whispers flicker in the periphery of the mix, a lurching, emetic synth rhythm woos the listener as if it were a sonic fly zapper seducing intoxicated bugs who want to, well, zone out to something groovy.
Beau Wanzer
Beau Wanzer’s music sometimes makes me think of the kids I knew growing up who stayed up really late in their parents’ basements to smoke pot, watch B-movie horror flicks and discuss esoteric shit with a side of junk food. In aural terms, the Midwesterner producer makes spooky, straight-to-tape hardware jams that often feature samples of creepy laughter and unsettling vocal snippets, murky sound palettes and oozing rhythms. Take “Groove’s No Zone” from his first untitled LP: as echo-y whispers flicker in the periphery of the mix, a lurching, emetic synth rhythm woos the listener as if it were a sonic fly zapper seducing intoxicated bugs who want to, well, zone out to something groovy.