When you line up the entire Handmade Birds "Critical Fabric - Yellow Series" tape series, the letters on the bottom of each spine spell out "Handmade Birds", which at bare minimum makes the full collection of tapes a compulsive pick-up for those of us collectors / listeners with serious OCD issues. The letter "A" in the series is represented by a massive full-length album from France's harsh noise wall icon Vomir, and it's one of the "heaviest" pieces of sound in this entire series. Spread across the tape's two sides, the two-part epic "Future Dust" is an hour long, a gargantuan static wall swirling with frequency debris. It's another solid release of void-noise from Romain Perrot's long-running outfit, a potential key to unlock psyic terrain through churning massively distorted topography.

Harsh noise wall. The very definition of "acquired taste". Writing about it is always an interesting exercise, as most folks come away with the notion that it all sounds exactly the same if they happen to acquire it. But if you're delicately attuned to the form, each blast of black static swirls, churns, and courses through its own unique currents of movement and shifting texture. Vomir has been obsessively consistent with the HNW material he's produced over the years. Truly embracing the "boring noise" philosophy that older noise outfits like Zone Nord espoused. And man, I love boring noise. Recently, I've been making correlations between the art of electronic "wall noise" and the ambient / phase modulations found in material like the Monroe Institute's Gateway recordings. Totally different approaches, of course, but recordings like what Vomir produce have an almost identical meditative / mind-altering state as much of the consciousness-centric electronic tools that have come out of the Gateway system. Of course, this is just my own personal experience; Gateway protocol adherents would likely scoff at the idea. But listening to Future Dust exemplifies the uniquely immersive power of abstract distortion for me. Perrot drowns the listener in sensory overload, especially experienced at considerable volume. It's volcanic, endless roar of crushing static pouring from the earth, with a ebb and flow as the intensity of the sound subtly shifts over the course of the recording. It feels like an inferno of black fire, emitting a catastrophic storm of large, flickering red embers, torched dust particles, and sulfuric fumes. As usual, this black firestorm becomes hypnotic and all-consuming. Infinite. Pareidolia ensues - high-pitched wails echo in the distance, the hiss and sutter of acid rain falling across the glowing lavascape, a strange wind-tunnel effect drifting in and out over the latter half of Dust's incendiary blast.

Contemplative immolation.

As with the other "Yellow Series" cassettes , this comes in an O-card slip-sleeve that also contains a sticker, a piece of yellow cloth, a roll of delicate yellow paper, a clothing-style tag, and a cardstock tag on a string, keeping in concert with all of the other tapes in this line.