Vacuum: Vacuum | 4ZZZ Brisbane 102.1FM

- A vacuum is a space devoid of matter, the epitome of emptiness and nothingness. Yet one could say this is the antithesis of the Naarm/Melbourne duo, whose self-titled debut album is so full of substance that, after first listen, I found myself wandering down rabbit holes of mechanophilia, Pharmakon, Amnesia Scanner, palliative care, 2000 AD comics and musique concrete. This isn’t altogether unusual: underground and experimental music is a curious thing and Vacuum’s use of natural and unnatural sounds builds an absorbing, dystopian landscape, ready for exploring. The album cover art is enough to pique an interest – the symbolic red and black encapsulates the dark industrial aesthetic of the recordings within, and brings to mind motifs of love, passion, warning, violence, and possession.

Vacuum was born from the imaginations and sonic experimentations of Andrea Blake (Chrome Dome / ASPS) and Jenny Branagan (Nun). Performing together live since 2013, the pair had met a few years prior through the cult record label Nihilistic Orbs and label visionary Shaun South (RIP). With last year’s backing of the Flash Forward project, an initiative of local council to create jobs and showcase creativity in partnership with Heavy Machinery Records, Blake and Branagan were invigorated to realise their vision of an album.

The opening track, Dredd, released as a single with an accompanying video, is a sonic and visual amalgamation of science fiction, fetishism, and horror. The echoes of industry hammer and throb hypnotically while on screen, disembodied limbs lovingly stroke a red-eyed, fume-engulfed machine reminiscent of a Steven King novel. The vocals are indecipherable, unintelligible, and not human. Moving forward in the sonic landscape, Between, provides an air of coolness, the synth serving as a mood stabiliser. Resonate offers a single tempo and monotone lyrics, with alien effect. I’ll Call You introduces a heartbeat by way of drums, heightening into a shudder which fades with the sharpening of metal, the result something like dying in a hospital. Pulse is a rush of cortisol. The album’s only cover song, Dream Baby (How Long Must I Dream) delivers mesmerising lyrics with malfunctioning background noises. The final tracks are remixes of the first four. High tempo, futuristic dance vibes are introduced to elevate the mood, as hooks are taken apart and reconstructed. It is new-age synth filled with optimism, but the eerie way it builds continues to sow discord and remind us that the dreaminess can always been arrested.

In addition to synthesisers and samplers, Vacuum makes use of seemingly mundane raw sounds (a creek, a truck reversing, objects banging together at a construction site) and basic recording equipment (including a plastic cup) throughout the album. Different styles and frequencies orbit one another and create an uneasy perception of time speeding up and slowing down at once. The final product leaves the listener feeling cagey, with visions of a future where technology lords, listening to the cries of something inhuman coming to life, and committing its first unspeakable act.

- Tristan Birrell.