Monotonix

Jun 10, 2011 - Daytrotter Studio, Rock Island, IL

Jun 10, 2011

Monotonix

Tracks

  1. 1 Welcome to Daytrotter
  2. 2 Summers And Autumns
  3. 3 On And On

The Party You're Not Sure If You'll Make It Out Of Alive

Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry

Some people have to sleep with a fan going in their room. They need to hear that oscillating white noise constantly churning, lulling them into their appropriate cycles of slumber. We think that Ami Shaley, the lead singer for Tel Aviv, Israel, band Monotonix - destroyers of nearly everything they come into or put themselves into contact with - goes a different route. He might have a few different things that he turns to for that all-soothing power-glide into his deep, deep sleep. Shaley probably likes to hear a sweet chorus of chainsaws purring right next to his bedpost. Some nights, he might go for switching his bed's customized, therapeutic settings to something that could make the mattress pulse with the kind of nerve-rattling sensation of sitting in the bed of a rusty old pickup truck that's driving over a potholed gravel road. There could be some personal attendants, paid to work the night shift, over on the other side of the room (for safety reasons), smashing fluorescent light bulbs against the wall, one after another, until there are no more light bulbs to smash against the wall. These things could go on for hours and hours, until finally, the rooster crows at the upcoming sunlight and Shaley rises and shines to the break of a new day. Then, during his waking parts, Shaley and Monotonix makes some of those same sounds for paying customers. They swing from the rafters, trying to pull the rafters and the roofs housing the rafters down with them. They ride drums across people's heads as if they were mounted on an elephant. They shatter the bones in their own bodies. They thrash with total abandon. They forget that they aren't indestructible. They challenge gravity and sanity, in equal parts. They call into question the limits of adrenaline and come to the conclusion that there may not be a limit to it. They make music in a whiplash. It scorches. It burns and it's what must be heard in the bellies of all of the fun-loving devils out there. It's the sound of the party that you really want to go to, but aren't sure if you'll make it out of there alive.  

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