Rabit

Texan producer Eric Burton, aka Rabit, contorts industrial DNA into a downright claustrophobic ritual. His music is towered-over by snares that sound like the doors of a gloomy bunker slamming shut. Skittering grime and hip-hop rhythms, punctuated by shattering gun blasts, decay into murky minor-key hauntings. Terrified sound bites flash and turn a dark corner. Like electro-mutational peers Arca and Oneohtrix Point Never, Burton’s compositions expand and narrow, creating exhilaration that can be both sickly and euphoric. This is maximal music built with a twisted intention.

A note accompanying the 2015 LP, Communion, reports that the music was “inspired by issues relating to sexuality, gender, ownership of our natural bodies, societal and governmental injustices, and media manipulations”. The music’s specific connection to these contemporary trends can be hard to understand, but near impossible not to feel. Rather than exploring them through intellectual exposition, Rabit cuts straight to the guts, leaving the listener to react physically to grim sub-bass frequencies and big-screen menace.

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Performing May 28th at The Marquee Ballroom
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