Callus

Callus begins with a musical grimace. - The solitary drums enter first, their slow syncopation and rifle-shot echo setting a tone of instant, obdurate menace. The cacophony of a crowd and the oscillation of electronics pass beneath the beat, shaping veins of discord and discontent. A guitar shrieks with feedback and snarls with distortion, the teeth bared for the start of some very significant statement. - And then it arrives, the voice of singer, producer, and deeply existential sage Gonjasufi, delivered from the pit of the stomach like a last will and testament. "Is anybody private?" he bellows, his pitched tone suggesting a desperate quest for breath. "Is anything sacred?" - This is the countenance of Callus, Gonjasufi's third album for Warp Records and the most challenging and raw recording of his career. In the past, Gonjasufi's music, however dissonant it became, would faithfully drift ahead, but for these nineteen tracks, created during the last five years and in three studios scattered across two states, Gonjasufi exposes the scars of a lifetime, digging beneath the surface coat of a callus to strike nerves and expose his reality. If the earliest Gonjasufi records suggested an effort to overcome, the scowling violin drone and electronically mangled vocals of "Poltergeist" and colossal riff and crushing rhythm of "The Kill" make it clear that he's now facing them, sans fear or hesitation. This is the other side of Gonjasufi, then, ready to battle for what he believes.

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