Otto Von Schirach.com

Neon power ,  dozens  of Triangles  , rollerskating weirdos and synchronized swimmers all the moving to the beat of Otto's drum .  Our Leader from The bermuda triangle  composed all the music for the TM Sisters new project whirl crash and Go .You Will not see a more exciting event on this planet or any other Planet  , in this galaxy and way beyond .  All is not lost and do not fear  If you missed the first 3 performances  because you can catch it again on October 10, at Locus Projects, 155 N.E. 38th Street,  Wynwood Art district .  Read more in the magazine the lead by clicking here

Stylus Magazine review: Escalo Frio
by Todd Burns

Modern art is a tricky subject to analyze. The effects of irony and sarcasm are everywhere. If you take something too seriously, you're liable to look the fool. If you take something too lightly, as though it has no meaning at all, you're also liable to be embarrassed by elements that can be construed in different ways. It is the sign of the times, then, for most critics of different art forms to be bland and forgiving. "He/she/ has potential," "He/she revels in mediocrity because it is an artistic statement," or, even worse, "It wasn't really great, but it wasn't bad either." The unwillingness of the modern critic to take a stand one way or the other is one that plagues certain publications. This reviewer is extremely guilty of this. It would be hard to regard exactly what I think of as a classic album, anymore considering how many albums I have regarded as good in the past year. It comes with the fear of being wrong, perhaps. The fear of overlooking the subject in the time that is taken to review it, in case someone will look over the critique and point out elements of the work that completely skewer the points made. As said, modern art is a tricky subject to analyze with any accuracy when the means and the ends are not as straightforward as they used to be.

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JIVEMagazine.com Review: Maxipad Detention
by PR

Otto is quite simply one of a kind, yet he is anything but simple,” says Mike Patton, Fantomas, Faith No More and Peeping Tom (among others) vocalist and founder of Ipecac Recordings. “He can make your booty shake while crushing your skull. This is my idea of a dance party!” Patton hand-picked and sequenced in his own mix of songs culled from a 38-track disc of new Otto Von Schirach recordings, resulting in the critically-revered album Maxipad Detention.

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Splendid E-Zine Review: 8000 BC
by Jenn Sikes

Like Matmos, Autechre and µ-Ziq , Otto von Schirach makes experimental techno/neo-techno music for musical intellectuals. Avant-garde in its push, 8000 B.C. is a phenomenon that will leave more listeners awestruck than happy. Von Schirach also cites Biohazard as an influence, strangely enough, which means that you may hear hints of thrash and hardcore, and heavy, hip-hop-influenced beats. These highly varied and sharp flavours combine to make 8000 B.C. an unusual and somewhat unhinged album.

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For the aloof in the room, the story goes like this: After a devastating crash in which his "land craft" was totaled and both of his legs were mangled, Otto Von Schirach awoke, six months later, from a painkiller haze, disoriented and confused. The psychological effects of his trauma drastically altered his approach to music: Less melodic, more chaotic, light on the thoughtful, and heavy on the unbridled subconsciousness. The resulting series of three EPs, collected here as Chopped Zombie Fungus, are residual products of Schirach's "accident," macabre and chaotic threads of intravenous beats and bed-pan bass that fold hip-hop, booty house and layer upon layer of processed noise into his hospital bedsheets, soaking them in night sweats and urine.That's the story, anyway. The plot. The reality is that life-altering tragedy has never sounded as good as it does when filtered through Schirach's delusional mind, fabricated or legit. Besides being a fine marriage of product and packaging (both the furry scrotum flipping the bird on the sleeve of the third EP, Earjuice Synthesis and the post-apocalyptic hardware warriors on Boombonic Plague, both designed by illustrator AS1, are an essential backdrop), Chopped Zombie Fungus manages to take the most predictable elements of the Schematic sound and frappe it into something tormented and way outside of the box, a sound as frightening and surreal as it is pop-lockin'.

And in almost every instance, that conversion is a success. Chopped Zombie Fungus twitches its way through the dancefloor underworld, rubbing up against gyrating asses and thrusting pelvi as it searches for the Champagne Room, occasionally grabbing the mic and kicking a rancid verse. The Brian Eno-esque delivery that Schirach exhibits on "Earjuice Synthesis (Urinate on MCs)" becomes increasingly fresh with each listen, a strange sing-song that approximates Bodenstandig 2000 with its fractured, atonal rhythm; couplets like, "Organized bubble bass/ Begin fisting the speaker," become deranged manifestos, lurking behind rumbling bass swells and breaks that writhe and twitter like dying millipedes.

Nothing here could be classified as sunny, and all things are not as they seem; only David Lynch could have daydreamed "Pelican Moondance", a fevered hallucination in which some Sri Lankan ceremonial samba gets wrapped up with an anesthetized, ancient starlet droning "Bessame Mucho" until her throat bleeds, and the aggressive new wave stomp of "Laptops&Martinis;" is just the right mix of mutilated party anthem and breakneck cut/paste lunacy. "Whip Me Down" is less successful, so preoccupied with barking S&M; commands ("Whip me down/ Make me hurt/ Make me bleed/ Touch my tit") that its promising ghetto-tech beats are allowed to wander off into oncoming traffic. But "Boombonic Plague" recovers the ball with the grace of a quadriplegic prostitute, cramming in enough cum-soaked booty house and disembodied demon children to rival GGG for sheer sensory perversion. No wonder it's the cut that kicked off the series.

If there's a weakness to this compilation, it's not fire or decapitation or a shotgun blast to the dome, but the complete lack of restraint Schirach exhibits on many of the tracks. For sure, all three EPs are a product of frenzied, albeit revelatory, self-indulgence; but when things get out of hand, the listener gets buried alive beneath the studio noodling. The barely together "Sliced Mucus Farts" dries up quickly while "Granny Foot Powder" falters, suffering from too many aborted passages. I'll admit that it might take me years to decipher what's going on at the recess-and-Thorazine core of "San Lorenzo", but it seems like extraneous information, one too many B-movie sequels. Then again, more than an hour's worth of carnage takes its toll on a man. The sickness of it all leaves you stumped.

As any of the undead realize, things are better ripped apart, split into pieces and gnawed at patiently. Taken in pieces, the true depths of Otto Von Schirach's scheme are better comprehended, easier to swallow and easier to flip than skip. The aim of Chopped Zombie Fungus takes time to absorb, and some cuts (like "Facelift") suggest eggs being laid under rotting logs, waiting. It's something for which Lucio Fulci and Gescom combined may be no match. This collection is Where the Wild Things Are; only the monsters are horny, hungry, and fighting off Atomic Zombies on the shore of Bikini Beach, amped up on pheromones in Clockwork Orange skivvies.

Otto, you done did George Romero proud.

Juan Loumiet is on a busy streak. Besides running his venue, promoting shows, and spinning beats, he is finding time to drop deep tracks on his label Basshead. Right now he has this piece coming from Miami's own Otto von Schirach. It's a double-A side with two big-time club bangers, showing von Schirach's more danceable side while retaining some of his quirkiness. You might have heard von Schirach or Jose el Rey dropping some of these future bass tracks out and about and thought, My, what the hell is this low-end glittery awesomeness? Cop online here.