I read in an interview that Flow Child's Kyle Jukka said that he was "obsessed with gooey sounds." I've been thinking about that line for the past four hours now, listening to this session multiple times. You can hear how serious he is about the comment near the end of these three songs, as you hear a sound that makes you firmly believe that it's come from a kitchen where someone is whisking eggs faster than they've ever whisked them before. It's one gooey sound that transitions into the sound of someone who might or might not be stepping out of a swimming pool dripping wet again and again, heading toward a towel.
There are humming, red lights and the sounds of suction cups. There's an amber feel to most of what Jukka puts together here. It's as if he's collected all of these non-musical sounds in a pond of Elmer's glue and pushed things together into collages that seem to make as much sense as they need to for a real feel to come out of them.
There are chimes and robotic insects - the locusts of a night that's built out of hypnotics, Christmas lights, glow sticks and narcotics. There's a freshly brewed pot of spiked coffee over in the corner and the house lights are going on and off intermittently.
Flow Child music gives you a sense that you're opening doors that you're not supposed to some of the time and then others that you're opening, Jukka is hiding behind, offering some fractured observation in bouncing notes that take flight, but only ever give you a fourth of the story. It's an intoxicating rush of blood to what feels like the neck and the mid-section.