Through the jam sessions that erupt out of basement house shows, kicked over kegs in Oakland, and a desire to create something humanistic behind instrumental machines; Oshin, the 2012 release from the Brooklyn Zoo’s own supersonic and mostly instrumental band, DIIV is a wonderful display of abstract ideals printed on a multicolored sick-screen canvas. The print has been replicated thousands of times, but still feels unique under the guise of DIIV and the evenly distributed weight of appendages and extremities.
From point A to point B, DIIV can be explained as an experimental indie sound that works to shape and define a stronger sense of power through longer, almost stoner rock tracks. In a grander-term, Oshin is simply magnificent in everything from the cover art to the music within that shadowed outline that represents creativity within the workplace. The track “Human” comes to frame as an extension of only nearly three minutes, but creating a global grasp on these formalities that DIIV tends to de-construct. As the sculptures of sound are being built up around and the layers of DIIV are starting to become exposed and mined, the resources and materials that are discovered feel rapidly inspiring and successful.
Either laying on a roommate’s floor stargazing or traveling through the city, DIIV can capture this world wide web of ability that extends to cover more than just a record with music. The walls of noise that surround the listener are more liquid than solid, creating a full feeling of warmth that transfers from track to track, song to song, where more than enough emphasis is put in place.
DIIV synonymously builds a house of support systems around them. With less of frantic display and more of their laid-back nature that is approachable and manipulates a positive cloud with their music. Oshin plays best with the eyes closed, taking in every piece of what DIIV offers through selective progression and careful lacking of plans.
Not only are they capturing through speakers, but seeing them in a live setting creates a personal attachment to their animalistic movements where smoke-filled dens are the only way to roll. The noisy, but ultimately substantial record does not pull any surprises, but the album is truthful and continues to adapt even until the final moments where the music fades into the alleyways of sound.