Self described epileptic dance music, raw and unfiltered.
After being diagnosed with epilepsy at 33, Our Carlson turned to making jagged dance music as a form of deliverance and defiance, as a way to connect with others who have felt burdened and wrongly done by the systems in place in so-called Australia.
Slugging it out on the hardcore scene before transitioning to a more electronic forward focus sonically, the latest album merges performance art, punk energy and electronica. Carlson uses his voice centred in the mix, unvarnished, which allows the expression of anger, confusion and anxiety while critiquing disability experience and social structures.
Our Carlson’s debut album, OC Spray, captures the essence of so-called Australia after midnight. The dry humour, the exhaustion, the resilience. The music feels rooted in outer-suburban and rural so-called Australia, the slang, accent and rhythm of the speech. There’s no cultural posturing, no borrowed cool.
The album is a testament to perseverance in the face of adversity, about finding beauty in the static. That’s Carlson’s magic trick: he turns despair into communal energy. The bass rambles, the vocals snarl and the synths drag like high beams on damp bitumen. Amidst the frenzy, the heartbeat of hope persists.
The record opens a lot like a riot and ends like a group hug. In the end, Our Carlson isn’t offering escape; he’s offering unity. Carlson stands for the messy truth, for accessibility as rebellion. For the belief that a dance floor can embrace every body. The album feels alive, like it’s always on the verge of falling apart. O.C. Spray is proof that honesty can still be loud and that survival, when shared, can sound a lot like joy.
Words by Tommy Boutros