The closer you fly toward the sun, the closer your demise-- the myth of Icarus warns humankind of the perils of untempered experimentation and unrestrained pride. It's such a powerful myth because its naked warning can be as applicable to flight as to cloning technology. And to good old fashioned DIY electronica. Just because you can correctly plug patch cords into a dusty tone generator and know roughly when to boost the low frequency oscillator with a high pass filter doesn't give you the moral right to go ahead and perform your atonal interpretation of "The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying." Programming a Roland 909 and looping a diva are no- brainers (guys like Armand van Helden need to get up off their La-Z-Boys and make some music that takes some actual skill); creating "aural sculpture" (you know, "art") from sine waves, leave it to the professionals-- those with season tickets to the Cooler.

David Kristian is such a professional; he's probably on the Cooler's VIP list. He's probably even got his own table and his Cosmopolitan is probably always served super- chilled. But the coolest thing about Kristian is that he's been consulted by film- makers about the sounds that zombies make as they prey on the living and as they extract soft tissue from screaming craniums. It's hardly surprising, then, that Kristian's extreme drum-n-bass recordings for the Drop Beat label, (the Ecotopic Beat and Downpour EPs) are the sound of hard drives going through multiple psychotic episodes. For the Canadian imprint Discreet Indiscreet, he ponied up Synaethesia, an album that invites glowing comparison with early Autechre and the classic artificial intelligence sound of the Warp stable.

Kristian's latest label, Alien8 Recordings, specializes in extreme noise terror. His music isn't terrifying like his rostermates, Merbow, Keiji Haino, and the paragon of the death- folk scene, Koji Tano, but Kristian's discs aren't wallpaper, either. Beyond the Valley of the Modulars is his first beat- centered, somewhat techno-y disc in five years. But all along, he's been keeping an eye on current trends, and now he's ready to wave a raised finger in provocation.

Kristian's techno doesn't rely on preset sounds and pilfered rhythm patterns. All the sounds heard on Beyond the Valley of the Modulars Kristian created using his vast collection of analog equipment. Given the limitless possibilities offered by his oscillating hoopty- doos and gizmos, Kristian limited himself to creating sounds that in some way mimic tones produced by the human mouth. This strategy, while superficially appearing as a pretty small set of possibilities is, in fact, vast. Just think of how many different sounds you can make. Then recall how many sounds the vocal system of Yamatsuka Eye (of the Boredoms) can make. Kristian has a pretty huge sound box in which to play.

And play he does. His last record, Cricklewood, had "art" stamped all over it, from the cover image of a waveform, right down to the mannered titles. But Serious and aloof Beyond the Valley of the Modulars is not. Anyone could boogie to the electro of "<>" or "Whippany II"; the acid squirmings of "Sourpuss" would suit a Josh Wink or Richie Hawtin set perfectly. Meat Beat Manifesto's Jack Dangers would be an excellent recruitment for a remix of "Sound of Clara," which is comprised of Meat- like beats and a 1950s sci-fi theremin melody.

But Beyond the Valley of the Modulars is not just for your ass-- Kristian's cut the rump- shaking with mind food. "Idiotland" depicts as bleak an industrial wasteland as J.G. Ballard could ever imagine (or Throbbing Gristle could ever soundtrack). And for those of you curious as to what Kristian could come up with if he were transported back in time to Lee "Scratch" Perry's Black Ark studio, there's "Flywheel": echoes, echoes, echoes slashed by sub- bass kicks and the abrasive barks of a sickly modulated human infant.

At the moment, I can but yearn for the mind- altering collaboration between David Kristian and Cristian Vogel ("The Multi- Analog David Cristian Vogel Set"?). However, Kristian forbids anyone to sample his work. He may well be the most experimental sound designer you could wish to assist you with your zombie flick, but he's got his boundaries. Unlike some, Icarus.

-Paul Cooper