foam fangs could be a term used to describe silks preferred take on that too-easily dismissed 70s dancefloor dementia of disco – the soft bite, love nibble, mirrorball on steady/ready perma-revolve. jesse reiner (jonas reinhardts first mister, alongside past/part-time collaborators like phil manley of trans am and damon palermo of mi ami/magic touch), who never quite had the kranky krinkle of his ohm-ambient labelmates, travels head-on, tomorrowland-style, through long-form cosmic moroder constellations of >foam fangs<. nothing frothy about it, though there is a bit of the rubbery in reiner’s bounce-about, cool, funky kraut-disco. suddenly we are beaming back to a time when the world looked forward, envisioning a 21st century decked with silver, chrome, and neoprene. it is a sonic space both transparent and shiny, the metallic ding and cold ribbon of data, scrolling through infinite space. the opener, >foam fangs<, transports us instantly into an ever-expanding universe of sound and light at once fanning out and folding in on itself. variations on that theme continue as the jonas journey oscillates through the beat-beyond.
