Forrest Armstrong, a.k.a. Gasoline Monk, is an artist in every sense of the word. Although stark (and I’ll say) unjust opinions of “electronic” or “synth noise” commonly existence within many circles in the sometimes overtly pretentious music scene, we have something entirely different here. Dislocated Joints Vol. 1 instantly sounds like a labor of love for one man, and the plethora of sounds he is able to mix and mash over a heavy and never ending beat drum. The complications of the album is what makes its so wonderfully unnerving and justifiable.
Dislocated Joints Vol. 1 moves with a rhythm that simply leaves you entranced (all pun intended). But the sounds collaborated within this album are more like jazz than anything else. Obviously not Charlie Parker blowing his horns sort of jazz. But, more of the sincerely mad and overzealous sort of jazz that Kerouac produced in a literary sense. In a way, Gasoline Monk is a true and honest depiction of the modern world’s shift into the digitalized sometimes suffering, and other times exhilarating, conceptions of spiralling or torpedoing into a sea of 1’s and 0’s. And all the way down (or up, however you see it) we will be bless with beautiful .25 second blips of rhythm, hard drum beats, and purely tantalizing synth.
There are various reasons to love Gasoline Monk. Some are obvious traits such as dancability and universal rhythm sections. But, if you really dig deep, and recognize the power of this man’s music and his use of uncomplicated complications, then you might truly understand how this jazz influenced king of DJ’s a genuine artist. Above all, this guy is, to say the least, brilliant.