Another week, another tech bro triumphantly declaring music solved, with hyper-individualisation via AI just around the corner. This obnoxious class of talentless grifters is obsessed with optimising everything, art included, and misses the point entirely. We want – no, need! – art to be messy, incomplete, and flawed.
Take Institut für Feinmotorik, originally from Germany’s Black Forest. The collective have spent years paring their sound down to squeaking, sparse forms that sound like mechanical contraptions in their death throes, indebted to both post-Cagean traditions and the Profan school of minimal techno. Their main medium? The Octogrammoticum – an orchestra of eight recordless turntables augmented by the scraps…

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