MiNu Vyrus

Anyone that’s been paying attention to my exploits knows of my brief love affair with the Industrial scene. On a kinghell binge to try and unearth as much local talent in this realm, I didn’t find much apart from a few live acts. Minu Vyrus (get it? like My New Virus) have finally emerged from the woodwork. With their mega-pro publicity shots, super production values and classy album art, it is obvious they are gunning for the stars. But what of the music? This is a weird one. Partially Monstrum Sepsis, the rest feels like Genesis, Ewigkeit and lighter Skinny Puppy meets Aphex Twin and Gil Mantera’s Party Dream. There is an obvious attention to detail in that there are eight-billion sublayers going on. The vocals are processed as hell with a gazilion effects.

In all, this is a mixed bag offering. It gets better as it goes in and by the end of the album you’re reaching the best work Minu Vyrus have to offer. The material is just as haphazard-yet-cohesive feeling as Skinny Puppy (the only one ever to really pull off that flavor), but the floaty, drugged-out atmospheres give it an odd pop flavor. Shit, they even utilize that “Do you believe in love after love” futuristic sheen. It sputters, it blazes, it meanders, then it gets right to work. Weird jaded bastards like myself take note — the next disc these guys drop will own all, granted they keep refining their sound. MinuVyrus.com, fatkidstudios.com, ashesartistry.com | -Ryan Bartek-RDW - Real Detroit Weekly