Decomposition by Iron Hox

This is the fruit of decay.

For the last three months I've been fixated on an image in my head of an old, barely-intact recording device spitting out distorted versions of the messages it carries. Many of the words are riddled with sonic debris from decades of neglect, some so much so that they are torn apart entirely. However, what isn't able to be heard in words is understood through visceral tone and texture. The listener who discovers this device years later - and decides to find out what's on it - will never know the exact circumstances that birthed these recordings but the sound itself tells much more of the story.

That image began to develop into a wider pattern of thought with time. I began to think about losing relationships and all of the things I said and still want to say but can't anymore. I thought about how isolated I feel sometimes and how difficult it can be for me to get my thoughts out to people in a semi-organized way. I thought about my constant repression of negative emotions and how it feels like it'll swallow me completely if I don't let out it at some point. I felt like that ancient piece of technology fighting endlessly with its damaged, obsolete programming in order to just carry out its simple purpose.

This theme of halted speech and garbled attempts at communication fueled the sound of Decomposition. I tinkered with it over a span of 30 mixes (switching directions about 4 times) but in the end, these three songs - and one instrumental - rang in my head constantly. I ran them through my gracious friend's tape machine which helped me to break down the sound even further. The result is desolate and alien. There is a mangled voice trying to fight its way through but the beats just overwhelm them again and again in a vortex of digital decay. I suppose I set out to make a lost sonic artifact desperately trying to communicate more than just another EP.

So, this is my document of decay. This is Decomposition.



Thank you Beth for helping me understand myself better.
Thank you to Zander for inspiring me and helping me push my sound to new heights.

Thank you for listening.

Overgrown Electronica.

Queer Post-Internet Sludge.