By Irwin Swirnoff
When the lines of past and future become blurry there's the opportunity for a new world to emerge. The space Eric Copeland has created with his most recent album, Hermaphrodite (Paw Tracks), is one where animal meets machine, melody moves around dissonance, and the constant collision of the past and the future remind you that it’s never just one or the other. It’s always both.
Much like his friend Panda Bear who made one of 2007's best records while taking a break from the Animal Collective, Copeland has created his own sonic achievement while moonlighting from his main gig, Black Dice. There is a cinematic hand at work on Hermaphrodite, which has you in its grasp and offers in return a full, visceral experience.
This LP sounds like it was recording on old analog equipment on its last legs, by someone or something from a different dimension. With hints of gamelan and moments that feel like a secret listen in on a primitive ceremonial tradition, Hermaphrodite feels like a score to a lost film made by Alejandro Jodorowsky and Michelangelo Antonioni. It sounds like the Discovery Channel, shot on old chromatic film stock.
What many folks in the noise world lose sight of is that it’s not just how hard you can hit but how gentle your touch is - so that when you do hit, there's actually something to feel. Copeland proves that he understands when to pull back, when to strip away, when to let melody enter the fold, and when to let it all unload.
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