Forget about Mick 'n' Keef, Autechre, Cam'ron, Tortoise, whomever all gentlemen among many who have shown the world at large a cold-shoulder song or 26. Without so much as a lyric, a guitar, or a defined beat, So Percussion has in "September" the frostiest iceberg in recent memory: an icy klatch of spaced-out bell tones reiterated and reiterated to teeth-chattering effect, as something finger-cymbal edges grazing each other, perhaps? A hesitant, underprogrammed glitch algorithm scuttling, maybe? stirs quietly in the margins. Brrrrrr, indeed.
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