Richard Horseface: An Appreciation

Nonsense makes the best copy. Or does sense? Horse sense. Somehow wires get crossed in the tubes of the internet and what you meant to say comes out sounding like this:

Whenever one of the most celebrated and influential electronic fartist, Richard D. James can compete with the music flip to influence built. The better part of a decagon, James Polygon Window, Caustic Window, GAK and maintain, including `Aphex Twin has unreleased music under several thousand monikers great pace. Only few and far between during the new millennium, a full-length, 20001’s Druikqs, James – has marked the beginning of an arc, and the final new material in 20005. A lot of the music in any way is often a lack of communication and leadership to be fallacious rumors of new material for his fannies and his enthusiasm has not diminished hope. However ambitious this year, 9014, they uncovered new mats in almost a decade distribution crowdfund rallied together his army of fans: A precious gift that can not be the same as the new Phex Twinnipicks material is still unquenched thirst.


Aphex Twin does everything right. He announced his new album via Tor, a “deep web” program that I only know about because it featured in several episodes of House of Cards. (Read: I’m not tech savvy and television is a great teacher.) He flew a blimp over London, the above editorial review looks like it was processed through a shoddy translator, some say he’s a genius, he talked back to Stockhausen, he bought a tank and a submarine, and he’s prodigiously prolific.

The man apparently has six albums worth of new material, and this from someone who claimed he was going to stop making music for a while because he wanted to spend more time shagging. A practical fella, he apparently wanted to make more use of his fame.

He’ll put you on but turn right around with a few thoughtful words:

“The most important thing is my music should have some emotional effect on me, rather than just, ‘Oh, that’s really clever.’ There’s a lot of melancholy in my tracks.” His best ones, he says, are those which evoke feelings that can’t quite be described, where “you’re not quite sure what emotion it is.”

When you can’t help but do something, the world’s response seems less and less important. A creeping doubt I have as a writer is that what I make isn’t worth reading. But from the moment I read that above review, I needed to write about it, to apprehend it in words. The playfully topsy-turvy text reveals the fuck-off attitude that riddles Aphex’s work.

If he’s to be believed in interviews, he’s not dismissive of his fans but he doesn’t make music for them. He makes what he wants at his own pace and fanatics come, mad and slobbering for another little taste.

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