By now, this release being the third installment of Dais’ archival issues of the early work of Genesis P Orridge, we have all come to understand that the records have less to do with music than historical context. We’re not going to get “Hamburger Lady” or anything even resembling “TG” in its glorified form in the least. Instead we have harsh abstraction and poetics of chance. What exists on this LP are recordings culled from domestic, detuned piano layers while living in a filth-ridden, frozen 1700’s era Victorian hell-hole in Hull, England during 1974. Having dragged two pianos into her kitchen Gen, in true Coum fashion, translated everything to a dystopian, dada landscape of post-industrial Britain. Practical uses for playing this LP include; a soundtrack to daily banality in an absurdist sense, faking an art installation, or testing the patience of unwanted droppers by. There is no focus required, other than the reading of Genesis’ always enthralling personal accounts of her life and times, presented with each of these LPs. She describes the recordings as her “Blues” album and that’s an association that comes from atmosphere and not of bars, notes or songs, more in the Jandek sense than the Muddy Waters. You can fairly guess what it sounds like given the instrumentation but that by no means devalues its worth, with the appropriate adjustments…which require an indeterminate amount of psychic/chemical realignment. That’s up to the individual. Once attuned, Sugarmorphoses can yield rewards once you shut off your lights and turn on your dream machines (You all have several, we’re sure) and thank god you don’t live in Hull or anywhere else in England for that matter.

by Swingset Magazine on 9/28/2011 in Reviews | Tags: Coum Transmissions, Dais, Genesis Breyer P-Orridge, Sugarmorphoses