The Teeth Behind the Kisses
A Single Point of Blinding Light
Sound artist and composer Ben Frost can both scare the pants off you and transport you to a distant place where, for a brief spell, nothing really matters except the aural experience around you—and it’s incredibly freeing. Frost’s work compels the listener to listen—he doesn't make music for backgrounds. On his fifth album, the artist cements his fondness for unexpected textures and drones, loud-soft lurching, and unsettling noise. From the muted chimes and bells set against the percussive clatter and dissonance of the remarkable “Venter” to the sustained, cicada-like hiss on “No Sorrowing” and the high-frequency static on “Sola Fide,” Frost continues to create sounds that feel unquestionably his, as experimental as they may be. “A Single Point of Blinding Light” is filled with mesmerizing, dread-filled, industrial clatter and chaos. “The Teeth Behind the Kisses” is a ghost in the machine, silently lurking and threatening although it’s barely there. Much of Aurora was composed while Frost was in the Democratic Republic of Congo, collaborating on a film reflecting the region’s notorious violence. Forget “Eraserhead.” This is the new industrial revolution.