But what was to prevent the ants evolving also?

These are intelligent ants. Just think what that means!

There can be little doubt that they are far more reasonable and with a far better social organisation than any previously known ant species 

Herbert G. Wells

K21 (ANTS)

A(n un)certain entity looks like Leonard Nimmoy—clutching hyper to its instrument of Electronic perversion. This is undeniably a serious business. Beautifully crafted to befit dance music with coruscating breaks and corresponding hollowness in dimension.

  The man’s craft supersedes deification. K21 is an expulse to intelligent dance where his frets and devotions are exhilarating occupations of preceptive drums and perfusions that simulate the effects of—if amid samples—annihilating the organic reach of vocals. The present vocal samples are as alien and fiendish as a morose Klingon—with blood-thirst and war-lust. Rune prevents the music from engraving and etching the auditory preference with inadequately descriptive pounding. The airy ride shuttles from concoction to decantation. Hurtling forth into battle of cymeks.

  As a rhythm of articulation, it freights convening formulations. Preamble openings that play along sotto voce. This is grand and mighty. It is not enough trouble preventing other activities getting in its way. Every sound delicacy  is birthed in a bleeding permeation. Holy shit!—the death march—the storm—the Ajax. Where art thou Industrial freaks. Discretion hath now faced unearthing. Inundated by a linear finish—punish and taper. Inferior ants got no indemnity against the militial—nullify and eschew. This cover art is freaking superb. Close-up and blur. Ajax run the world.

  Confined to a Synthpop furnish is closure Voicesback, and it’s not much of a stretch. Parallaxed by echoing overwolds of sounds. An Industrial rafting appraise that whiffs into synth corruscations. Into submission thou shalt descend. No smarmy.


  Where Harsh Noise offers bleaker and even terminating permeations, a different spectrum broods liquefied chapters seething forth to project a charismatic storyline.
  Acromyrmex reanimates the scenario of Simon in The Double. Fitfully quite, the album’s sleeve renders the same uncolourful hues of gloom as he mundanely cogs his way regularly in the machine. It is in a certain consistency with the tapering tensions similar to a workplace typewriter, only to shift out excruciatingly as time ticks away.
  These subterranean wavelengths take a jab at the upper world incomprehensibly. To ponder on the frequencies of Hive Mind Transmissions may offer a sequential explanation to the unity and hardwired leanings on which disgusting humanity is a slave to. James happens to transform from Simon. The mutualism sets in from a one sided symbiosis, down to James‘ replication of Kleptoparasites.
  Simon’s dismantling never gets undone. A semblance relating to the zombie ants, fungi infected with infested brains, starting with bunged up community, ending with individual explosion. The sad suddenness captured in an iota of Anti-Fungus Mutualism. One must pave way for the other. Exit Simon.



  Alternative can be a place to hide bad musicianship, justified by tag. Or to imply one is different when basically it’s nothing compelling or incorporating very left-hand shit to a genre. It can be a place to be pretentious and get away with it. Mostly. Ants’ release Ants for ant lovers and their ant lovers. The Mad Mane Machine came here for the mandibles. Goddamn it this could well be another garage band. In that light, this could grant a half regarded return. Is it called antrock . . .


  Description: A physicist and a mathematician doing nothing special—not to insinuate its more than one person. What follows is a discography of experimental, Electronic and Noise emanations. Very well wrought out instrumental stuff regardless of bio. Ants is a one man unit. Applicable to endless scenarios other than the final christenings rendered. Noise up and hail the fucking ants.

—The Antcamp