Cluster: Dieter Moebius, Hans Joachim Roedelius. That's one hour. Sixty minutes. Yep, thirty-six hundred seconds of Cluster, 90s style. The passage of time hasn't dulled its patina in the slightest. Theirs is the stuff of chronological hijacking, of history suspended, of sounds stolen from the prenatural nucleus of the human bandwidth, stretched, looped and fragmented to infinity. Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Dieter Moebius, travellers in this sphere of movement, have been altering the lifeclocks of their listeners for neigh on decades now. Their 're-surgence' and penultimate recognition in the U.S. as electronica's pre-eminent digital designers led to a first (and last) tour of North America, subsequent live albums, and the ageless document that is ONE HOUR. Encapsulating a Cluster recording, especially this one, can leave the reviewer gasping for expression. Stop-motion twitters exorcised from rusting beatboxes, awesome sounds that suggest the non-air caught in vast galactic vacuums, noxious synth eddies that orbit about a maelstrom of black holes, dilating time-Cluster has forever sounded like no other, the duo's ideas forever embraced in 'tempus fugit'. And once you're in, you're in for the duration.

Cluster: Dieter Moebius, Hans Joachim Roedelius. That's one hour. Sixty minutes. Yep, thirty-six hundred seconds of Cluster, 90s style. The passage of time hasn't dulled its patina in the slightest. Theirs is the stuff of chronological hijacking, of history suspended, of sounds stolen from the prenatural nucleus of the human bandwidth, stretched, looped and fragmented to infinity. Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Dieter Moebius, travellers in this sphere of movement, have been altering the lifeclocks of their listeners for neigh on decades now. Their 're-surgence' and penultimate recognition in the U.S. as electronica's pre-eminent digital designers led to a first (and last) tour of North America, subsequent live albums, and the ageless document that is ONE HOUR. Encapsulating a Cluster recording, especially this one, can leave the reviewer gasping for expression. Stop-motion twitters exorcised from rusting beatboxes, awesome sounds that suggest the non-air caught in vast galactic vacuums, noxious synth eddies that orbit about a maelstrom of black holes, dilating time-Cluster has forever sounded like no other, the duo's ideas forever embraced in 'tempus fugit'. And once you're in, you're in for the duration.
Cluster: Dieter Moebius, Hans Joachim Roedelius. That's one hour. Sixty minutes. Yep, thirty-six hundred seconds of Cluster, 90s style. The passage of time hasn't dulled its patina in the slightest. Theirs is the stuff of chronological hijacking, of history suspended, of sounds stolen from the prenatural nucleus of the human bandwidth, stretched, looped and fragmented to infinity. Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Dieter Moebius, travellers in this sphere of movement, have been altering the lifeclocks of their listeners for neigh on decades now. Their 're-surgence' and penultimate recognition in the U.S. as electronica's pre-eminent digital designers led to a first (and last) tour of North America, subsequent live albums, and the ageless document that is ONE HOUR. Encapsulating a Cluster recording, especially this one, can leave the reviewer gasping for expression. Stop-motion twitters exorcised from rusting beatboxes, awesome sounds that suggest the non-air caught in vast galactic vacuums, noxious synth eddies that orbit about a maelstrom of black holes, dilating time-Cluster has forever sounded like no other, the duo's ideas forever embraced in 'tempus fugit'. And once you're in, you're in for the duration.
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Cluster: Dieter Moebius, Hans Joachim Roedelius. That's one hour. Sixty minutes. Yep, thirty-six hundred seconds of Cluster, 90s style. The passage of time hasn't dulled its patina in the slightest. Theirs is the stuff of chronological hijacking, of history suspended, of sounds stolen from the prenatural nucleus of the human bandwidth, stretched, looped and fragmented to infinity. Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Dieter Moebius, travellers in this sphere of movement, have been altering the lifeclocks of their listeners for neigh on decades now. Their 're-surgence' and penultimate recognition . as electronica's pre-eminent digital designers led to a first (and last) tour of North America, subsequent live albums, and the ageless document that is ONE HOUR. Encapsulating a Cluster recording, especially this one, can leave the reviewer gasping for expression. Stop-motion twitters exorcised from rusting beatboxes, awesome sounds that suggest the non-air caught in vast galactic vacuums, noxious synth eddies that orbit about a maelstrom of black holes, dilating time-Cluster has forever sounded like no other, the duo's ideas forever embraced in 'tempus fugit'. And once you're in, you're in for the duration.


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Last updated: 2022-12-13 08:55:21
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Cluster: Dieter Moebius, Hans Joachim Roedelius. That's one hour. Sixty minutes. Yep, thirty-six hundred seconds of Cluster, 90s style. The passage of time hasn't dulled its patina in the slightest. Theirs is the stuff of chronological hijacking, of history suspended, of sounds stolen from the prenatural nucleus of the human bandwidth, stretched, looped and fragmented to infinity. Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Dieter Moebius, travellers in this sphere of movement, have been altering the lifeclocks of their listeners for neigh on decades now. Their 're-surgence' and penultimate recognition in the U.S. as electronica's pre-eminent digital designers led to a first (and last) tour of North America, subsequent live albums, and the ageless document that is ONE HOUR. Encapsulating a Cluster recording, especially this one, can leave the reviewer gasping for expression. Stop-motion twitters exorcised from rusting beatboxes, awesome sounds that suggest the non-air caught in vast galactic vacuums, noxious synth eddies that orbit about a maelstrom of black holes, dilating time-Cluster has forever sounded like no other, the duo's ideas forever embraced in 'tempus fugit'. And once you're in, you're in for the duration.
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