živelná naléhavost a existenciální tíseň
Chaos is the sacred order of the strongest. Ruthlessly tearing, crushing, suffocating – but sometimes it even sets you free. Miraculous moments of unbridled ecstasy then incarnate into fractions of music so massive and heavy that words and paper are not enough – only a trowel, a shovel and a pickaxe suffice. It is with this music through which the duo Unkilled Worker Machine blaze through a cruel world. In the sound of the Unkilled Worker Machine there is no room for even a single molecule of unnecessary air: The dense and impenetrable material of white noise takes up all the space. The social danger of this concept of personal resistance against banal silence lies in its subversive (as perceived) insignificance. But, as the eternal wind slowly and quietly erodes giants to sand, the idols of progress, liberalism and scientific and technological revolutions crumble under the onslaught of a guitar storm. The process, of course, is lengthy, but before us is eternity. And eternity, as we know, does not open its arms just like that for the silly achievements of modern times. Unkilled Worker Machine is the archetypal scream from the womb of a barren and just prehistoric time. Cruel and at the same time sublime music, whose distorted face offers the mirrors of the world only one mask: A dirtied, wise agedness, with a steady and clear view into the bottomless spiral of a liberating thunder. There is no warning. The eye of the hurricane is right here. (Adam Nenadál)
