Pluto’s music has the quality of a planetary emission. Signals emerge from a pall of tape hiss like alien frequencies warped by interference.
Percussive vibrations orbit tones so remote they blur at the edges. It is as if Pluto’s melodies exist beyond some horizon—they are only partially
available to us, distorted by thick ether.
Untitled belongs to a sonic idiom specific to Queensland, Australia—one set in motion by Breakdance the Dawn and refined by Essential Minerals.
Pluto is a part of both circles, pioneering an ur-music where tonality reaches a minimum threshold. On Untitled, he infuses this mode with a raw
melancholy, tempering it into something oddly affecting.
