Digiplantcore sounds ready to shake the screws out of the speakers. The kick drums have been driven into a thick, buzzing distortion, while Waterflower’s voice switches between deadpan instructions and a strained upper register. Repeated phrases break into fragments that rattle against the percussion. Even the gaps between beats feel charged.
Waterflower is the project of Riga-based artist Sabīne Moore, whose electronic music incorporates plants and mushrooms through biosensors, with ecological collapse providing the background to this album. The language of “Human Failure” and “Reduce Reuse” is blunt enough to fit on a placard. Moore’s delivery gives it an unstable human presence, capable of sounding detached before suddenly losing composure.
“Nature Is Dying A” establishes the pressure with distorted kicks and high-frequency noise. The voice is caught in the machinery – its shouted repetitions adding another hard edge to the rhythm. “Human Failure” brings mechanical clanks and scraping sounds into the picture. Its high, agitated vocal rubs against a grinding low end, with brief interruptions making the return of the percussion feel heavier.
There is a vicious theatrical streak in “Art Bitch.” Moore moves between clipped accusations and a mocking sweetness. The swollen bass and hard, repetitive kick give those changes of character something solid to push against.
“Honesty” is particularly effective at turning repetition into a hook. A vocal loop holds its shape while the percussion judders around it, with short breaks exposing the voice before the kicks return. High electronic squeals make the later passages increasingly uncomfortable. “Reduce Reuse” works a similar patch of scorched ground, chopping its central phrase until the slogan becomes part of the rhythm. The breathier delivery adds an unsettling intimacy to all that noise.
On “Gentrifier,” the brief higher sung passages make the raw vocal outbursts more startling. That movement between restraint and release carries more tension than another increase in volume.
“Move Forward” gives the record room to change shape. Its spoken delivery remains oddly conversational against the bitcrushed plantcore background, as though Moore is continuing a discussion while the room comes apart. Late in the track, the beat disappears and slow, distorted chords take over. The change leaves a heavy residue rather than offering a comfortable breather. Scattered vocal phrases continue through the murk, with the earlier momentum still hanging in the ear.
The interruptions in “Nature Is Dying B” are more violent. Rapid vocal fragments and pounding kicks repeatedly give way to exposed, wailing sounds. Each return of the beat brings a physical jolt, and the pauses make the voice sound increasingly distressed. Its clipped ending leaves the album’s central sequence without much opportunity to settle.
The digital edition adds a Logic Lost remix of “Human Failure.” Echoed vocal fragments lead into another abrasive rush, with broken percussion galloping across the scene. That’s Waterflower: disturbing the comfortable and comforting the disturbed.