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LXII

by Adult Karate

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    "He rises, afraid to turn off the light"

    So begins "LXII," the title track from Adult Karate's debut EP. Twinkling, woozy keyboards elicit images of sun reflecting off of choppy waves. Building in intensity behind KC Maloney's cryptic ruminations, they finally wash away, diffusing into a sea spray of synth decay. Spare, rattle-and-click percussion takes their place, pitched-down voices bouncing around the interior, Spaghetti western guitar scraping in the empty spaces- "the peace, it grows, it comes and goes."

    Adult Karate is KC Maloney, half of the gauze-and-gossamer duo Radar Cult. Though Radar Cult's sound is fairly spartan, Adult Karate takes the use of empty space even further, hollowing out the skeleton of electronic music- house, techno, ambient- until only the memory is left. These songs are imprints on an empty bed, images on a burial shroud; a wisp of something gone, its impression indelible.

    LXII's middle section in particular channels this austere atmosphere. "Chased" could be described as house music, though this particular house is haunted, chilly, its hidden corners populated by cold ghosts. Guitar washes and minor key piano conjure images of a suspicious figure glimpsed out of the corner of the eye. "Falling on your sword/For things you never got to be". "This Is Never" propels the nightmare vibes forward, its John Carpenter synth washes brushing up against clattering, reverb-laden snares before being overcome by Maloney's vocals, plaintive and distant.

    "Murderer," announced by a lone, mournful trumpet, segues into a strutting, crunchy electronic pulse, building gradually into a moody groove, all blues and grays, a night time drive through an industrial ghost town as Maloney sings about broken dreams. Then, finally, "So Low", aided by the vulnerable vocals of Adeline, closes out the album on a slightly more hopeful note, a slow burn that turns the melancholy organ at its center into an anchor of hopefulness. As Maloney joins Adeline in the track's climax, what began as a forlorn lover's declaration becomes a joyous duet. Like the album's cover, it is a bit of pink, a bit of warmth, peeking out of the blue and gray

    Includes unlimited streaming of LXII via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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about

"He rises, afraid to turn off the light"

So begins "LXII," the title track from Adult Karate's debut EP. Twinkling, woozy keyboards elicit images of sun reflecting off of choppy waves. Building in intensity behind KC Maloney's cryptic ruminations, they finally wash away, diffusing into a sea spray of synth decay. Spare, rattle-and-click percussion takes their place, pitched-down voices bouncing around the interior, Spaghetti western guitar scraping in the empty spaces- "the peace, it grows, it comes and goes."

Adult Karate is KC Maloney, half of the gauze-and-gossamer duo Radar Cult. Though Radar Cult's sound is fairly spartan, Adult Karate takes the use of empty space even further, hollowing out the skeleton of electronic music- house, techno, ambient- until only the memory is left. These songs are imprints on an empty bed, images on a burial shroud; a wisp of something gone, its impression indelible.

LXII's middle section in particular channels this austere atmosphere. "Chased" could be described as house music, though this particular house is haunted, chilly, its hidden corners populated by cold ghosts. Guitar washes and minor key piano conjure images of a suspicious figure glimpsed out of the corner of the eye. "Falling on your sword/For things you never got to be". "This Is Never" propels the nightmare vibes forward, its John Carpenter synth washes brushing up against clattering, reverb-laden snares before being overcome by Maloney's vocals, plaintive and distant.

"Murderer," announced by a lone, mournful trumpet, segues into a strutting, crunchy electronic pulse, building gradually into a moody groove, all blues and grays, a night time drive through an industrial ghost town as Maloney sings about broken dreams. Then, finally, "So Low", aided by the vulnerable vocals of Adeline, closes out the album on a slightly more hopeful note, a slow burn that turns the melancholy organ at its center into an anchor of hopefulness. As Maloney joins Adeline in the track's climax, what began as a forlorn lover's declaration becomes a joyous duet. Like the album's cover, it is a bit of pink, a bit of warmth, peeking out of the blue and gray.

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released August 19, 2016

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Adult Karate Los Angeles, California

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