Because I Hate You is lost and perversely playful; the psychologically shaken rants of a court jester losing his head, channelling anger into theatre and vice versa. Rhythm comes in debris and splatters – coughed up squelches of synthesiser and bass drums, funnelled up the stairways that lead down to Tokyo nightclubs – while sinister B-movie strings paint the ominous shadows of monsters waiting to strike, cradling L’eclipse Nue in a tension that, for all the static and screams attempting to punch holes in the cathartic membrane, never really gives way. It’s a busy record with a rickety rhythmic shape; the sound of a mind trying to structure itself in the midst of inane distraction and various psychotic haunts, with jarring synthesiser motifs and church organs scanning like flashlights over a junkyard of feedback and processed field recordings.
“I’m just waiting for the death machine” he brays, screaming with the looseness of someone swinging their own sanity above their head, possessing remnants of a fucked up lullaby too – but who’s really listening? Each vomiting squawk meets only an immediate, ceramic reflection (from within a cramped, dimly lit bathroom perhaps?), alluding to the complete lack of any recipient to L’eclipse Nue’s hysterical discharge. It’s a purely self-destructive process; negative energy isn’t expelled but momentarily regurgitated and swallowed back down, gradually turning its host’s insides to mush and bile as a vicarious listener looks on through an unseen crack in the wall.