There are albums out there that make you doubt the veracity of your sonic equipment. You always feel as if you’re missing something, as if there’s something more on the edge of the music you’re hearing. Is it your ears or your earphones that are robbing you of that edge? Or is it simply that the album in question seems to endlessly unfold, holding more and more as you listen? Whichever the case, Kayo Dot has always been able to produce albums that invoke this sensation. From their immense debut works, through all the countless changes they have undertaken, one constant has remained true, an inescapable sense of impossible lushness. Their music encompasses all but leaves plenty of the imagination, a pocked soundscape for your mind to fill in.
Plastic House on Base of Sky is no different. Fueled by Toby Driver’s penchant for the sounds of Susumu Hirasawa, the album is a lush, thousand-times folded sojourn in a neo-futuristic hive city. Whether from the aesthetics of Paprika or the decisively forward-thinking science fiction of Frank Herbert (think of Jodorowsky’s foiled renditions rather than Lynch’s), Kayo Dot have drawn forward a convulsing, neon tinged maze of experimental rock/pop.