Like this post if you remember the day DARKSIDE split up, and thought the journey of experimental, moody music ran its course to reach an end that was overrun by black widows (baby) and anacondas that don’t want none unless you’ve got buns, hon. It’s not too late, though. That horrific future is not inevitable thanks to one man named Owen Ross, who appears to be DARKSIDE’s long lost cousin. Even though Ross’ birth certificate proves otherwise, his music, under stage name goste (lower case g on purpose, people), feels just as dark and mysterious as the now broken up electronic group. When I was younger, and a complete stranger to any tunes other than Green Day and Avril Lavigne, I was puzzled by what experimental music meant exactly. Now I’ve learned that experimental music is defined by its songs that last longer than five minutes, unlike most of the men I’ve slept with — it’s also music that sends you on an emotional roller coaster. The longest roller coaster duration in the world is 90 seconds. And to think you spend all god damn day in line under a scorching sun that leaves you with second degree facial burns (if you’re as sickly pale as I am, that is). However, with artists such as goste, that five-minute roller coaster ride leaves you with whiplash that’ll have you wondering: what did I just listen to? Who is this? Ever find yourself in a daydream on the bus or metro with your headphones plugged in, and this one song comes on that you don’t remember downloading, or even recall hearing before this moment? But it fucking rocks your world? You pull out your iPhone or classically chunky iPod to remind yourself of the artist and track name. Oh, right… It’s goste!
goste’s EP, Eugene, features the unforgettable hit “Loadedlikeapistol” — now would be the time to make sure that coaster’s safety harness has clicked as you look down at your feet dangling like a rag doll and pray to all the heavens that you don’t throw up on the asshole who dragged your to Six Flags in the first place. “Loadedlikeapistol”‘s rapid, flickering drum beats, like the wings of a hummingbird, match that heart attack of yours as the roller coaster begins to move further and further away from the ground. Overlapping the chaos and speed, lies an airy, yet darkly euphoric tuner that’s eerie enough to make even the largest of dog’s ears perk up. And then we hear the voice of Owen Ross who enters your mind, almost like a guardian angel, to remind you that this ride you’re on does indeed have an end, and it’ll arrive soon. Like that comforting friend who stresses that this isn’t real life during a bad drug trip, Ross’ somberly pessimistic singing provides the perfect calming contrast to that erratic, increasing miles per hour drum beat, which almost transported you to a Fuck Buttons concert. Ross’ down tempo vocals help you see the light at the end of the tunnel — sometimes referred to as the gift shop you’re forced to wander into after you get off the roller coaster. Like an ice cube pressed against the veins on the inside of your wrist, Ross shoves a breath of fresh air into your chest that makes you feel more present than you’ve ever been before.