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Mike Patton - The Solitude of Prime Numbers

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Artist: Mike Patton

Album: The Solitude of Prime Numbers

Label: Ipecac

Review date: Feb. 24, 2012


Mike Patton - "Twin Primes" (The Solitude of Prime Numbers)


Itís been 20-plus years since the world at large first encountered Mike Patton, erstwhile vocalist for the funk-metal outfit Faith No More. He was a bulging-eyed California nerd-punk flouncing around opposite a tortured fish and sporting a t-shirt for his lesser-known project, Mr. Bungle. Since then, heís established himself as one of art-rockís most polarizing polymaths, lending his operatic voice to a maddening array of projects while living part-time in Italy and becoming fluent in that nationís language and culture. This time, heís created a soundtrack for an invisible film based on Paolo Giordanoís hauntingly detached novel La Solitudine Dei Numeri Primi, a story of lives that run parallel and fail to really intersect.

The physical release is every bit an art object. Tracks are indexed to prime numbers only, with quick buffers of silence in between, the sort of mischievous compact-disc-format exploitation that was big in the early 1990s. It comes folded in a cardboard leaf. If youíre going to accuse Mike Patton of pretension, go Ďhead on.

What sort of music does The Solitude of Prime Numbers contain? The bouncier, catchier bits (as has been noted elsewhere) sound a bit like rough sketches from Mr. Bungleís 1999 out-pop masterpiece California, hooking with ghostly Beach Boys-isms and then vanishing as quickly as they appeared. The rest is mostly dark ambience, quick pieces that cast thick, shapeless shadows without aspiring to the nausea of Pattonís more aggressively disorienting work. His unmistakable voice is hardly a factor at all.

It is, to wit, a vanity project, the sort of thing that could only happen under the auspices of Pattonís wildly successful vanity label. For the uninvested outsider (neither lover nor hater), itís distinctively spooky background music with a few satisfyingly jarring surprises, nothing to get terribly worked up about. For Pattonís large army of obsessive pupils, itís an essential document of the Master at his most conceptually obsessive, working on a highly specialized venture to his exact specifications without giving a fuck who else might dig it. And never the twain shall meet.

By Emerson Dameron

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