Pom Pom, a mysterious outfit whose fondness for parity and repetition certainly mark them with the ‘M’ word but whose ragged productions are stained black with the filthy handprints of their creators. Pom Pom revel in obscurity, welcome more than ever in today’s promotion-obsessed reveal-everything world: their releases are anonymous black-on-black vinyl-only editions, all tracks untitled, defined only by (unwritten) number.
Like Wolfgang Voigt in his Profan guise, Pom Pom rely heavily on samples to create woozy, disorienting textures around which loud drums are pounded in 4/4. Hiss, static and strange clunks make menacing yet entrancing cycles, created from sampled matter completely divorced from its original source, and seemingly compiled with blunt scissors and cheap glue. Rhythms are uncomplicated, favouring the distorted tones of Areal and the dark hues of Berghain, and tracks finish up pretty much where they started, but that’s not to their detriment. There’s a surprising degree of invention and variation within these narrow confines. Read more on Last.fm. User-contributed text is available under the Creative Commons By-SA License; additional terms may apply.