cantor dust

For those math-versed college students who already know the definition of 'Cantor dust,' you might be expecting some sort of over-self-proclaimed math-rock outfit. Relating themselves to Cartesian product is only something a college band or a prog-rock band would dare to do, rarely justifying that subject as a name.

But Cantor Dust, defying it's very own moniker, brings more than mere musical math to the table. In fact, the sounds heard dwelling from front to back within Cantor Dust's latest album, are so singly written by aesthetic that it hurts. To think that musical math has been laid aside for this project, is not as painful as the realization that it is therefore ultimately successful. And while you'll probably be expecting a pop album from this description, know that ambient industrial has a far better connection to the mind of Mark Klassen than anything else.

Shake from your mind the comparisons to Rob Zombie or Rammstein. Shake from your mind the metal influence it takes for an industrial artist to sell out stadiums to angry fans. Even shake from your mind the inconsiderate blastings of numerous noise acts. Note for note, this album is not so much comprised of traditional songs as it is of well-crafted sounds, arranged appropriately into tracks. And even so, it makes a lot more sense to the first-time listener than much else.

Opener 'K Complex' does well to ease the listener into the rest of this album, which ambiently seems to stretch far beyond the left and right channels of the listener's headphones. It's clean, yet tells the listener that he/she's in for an atmospheric audio experience, in which they will be tossed about by fuzzy waves, gusty synths and mystic voices. That's not to say that Klassen is too caught up in his layered delight that he forgets how to entertain more relaxed sound, because tracks like 'Desire Is An Awareness Of Separation' and 'The Wicker Man' would appeal to fans of IDM/chillout. Climatically, shit hits the fan in 'Acceptance Of The Possible Absolute' but most of the album tells a seemingly conceptual story concocted of choice, love and the idea absolutes -- all without a significant lyrical presence.

A feat in itself, this album is an enjoyable experience even when your attention is not up for grabs. Fear not, because enough melodic notes and keys to warrant a public listen are present here, making this one of the least pretentious albums of it's kind. Perhaps it's a bit too immediate, but it shines brilliantly as an introduction to an otherwise distant music genre that demands either an odd ear or extensive exposure to absurdity to appreciate. A bridge to a new world, an epic story with no words or a brief glimpse into Klassen's imaginatively expansive world; the culmination of this album draws you into a new dimension and plane. At the very least, this is a well-produced exercise in untraditional electronic music and it's woven threads of sound and texture remain un-knotted and un-frayed. - The Music Appraisal

Cantor Dust has a penetrating sound, both tense and dramatic. - Stylus Magazine

I’m 85 per cent sure that Cantor Dust, an experimental rock band consisting solely of Mark Klassen, is strangely awesome. But I’m 15 per cent sure that I’m not supposed to think this. The intricate piano playing, epic cymbals and Klassen’s ethereal voice make the perfect synthesis for what I’m 85 per cent sure is a concept album telling the exciting and heart-wrenching story of a guy who gets abducted by aliens. But I still have the nagging 15 per cent suspicion that Cantor Dust is laughing at me while I think about this album like it’s a MENSA test because Klassen’s lyrics don’t always match its epic-Eno-esque resonance: “The last thing I remember was blowing my load before everything faded to black, and that must have been when they beamed me up.” With lyrics like that I’m 85 per cent sure that Blind Date is worth a listen. - The Uniter

Not often do five songs amount to 42 minutes of pop genius — but hey, this is Cantor Dust. This disc kind of sounds as if Bend Sinister and the Blue Sky Addicts formed a super group and played free-form jazz over sound effects. With Open Faced Sandwiches (by a river of lava) being the only song of a reasonable length, these space-age piano odysseys break every rule in pop music — in all the right ways. In The Unlikely Event Of An Apocalypse simply rocks, while Ghosts would make Les Claypool go wide-eyed. Essential for anyone who is into anything interesting.
— Nicholas Friesen - Uptown Magazine (Winnipeg Free Press)