Genghis Tron

Once again, the bell tolls for dorm-rats and jazz-school spazzies to gather ’round the warm natal glow of their computer screens. The Ritilan-vomiting synthspazz of Cloak Of Lovemakes Genghis Tron a safe Instant New Favorite Band for every time-sig-addled nrrd who has forwarded an MP3/mixtape labeled “Ohmigod, you have to hear this band (“this band,” more often than not, meaning Naked City, Mr. Bungle, Meshuggah, Dillinger Escape Plan, Lightning Bolt or Hella, depending on age and broadband connection). Apparently all the young punx appropriating Naked City’s stop-on-a-dime timechanges and genre-conversions for their own evil means haven’t exhausted all the possibilities. Genghis Tron filters their Zornographic thrusting with the Locust’s writhing grind (natch) and Erasure’s—yes, friggin’ Erasure’s—chains of lovable synth-pop! It’s nifty little breaks of new-New Order dance-mope thrown in the middle of otherwise befuddling tracks that separate Genghis Tron from the hordes upon hordes of increasingly tiresome post-Bungle genre-fuckers. Six-seconds of yelped blastbeats slam on the brakes, leaving only the radio’s funky blast of post-Bambaataa sythfunk. Quiet ’n’ bubbly Bubble Core beats are broken into shards by accented Boredoms barf accents. A screwed break appears for no reason whatsoever. Metal riffs devolve info Crimsonesque detours until 90 seconds of rigid Depeche Mode riffs quietly escape out of the back doors, bloody and in tears. Then there’s track two... - CMJ