Growing up in the Midwest I was acquainted in my younger days with the bleak side of noise music, most of it stemming from mid-90s grindcore side projects and math rock masturbatory vanity endeavors. In other words, I saw and heard a lot of crap and pretty much wrote off noise as a narcissistic and boring genre. After being introduced fairly late in my musical awakening to its brutal sibling, power electronics, I started making sense of things and realized it's not all crap and the stuff that isn't crap can be amazing.

Inside the dusty corner room of a dungeon-like warehouse basement, Karl Giesing dumps out a bag full of pedals, samplers, grimy cables, and homemade synth boxes. Their functionality seems questionable. Giesing, clad in black leather jacket, scratches his goatee, and it starts to come back to him.