“As a debut by his label, Augsburgian Martyn Schmidt is bringing home to me a fellow traveller from Frankfurt, who has already actually been described as a literary human-machine. As a sound poet, curator, wearer of caps, co-founder of the Gruenrekorder-collective and by his activities with the jazz-poetry-performance-group „Sounds like Poetry?“ and the electro-fluxus-improv-group „Watercoloured Well“ Huelstrunk is a beyond the Rhein-Main-region profiled somebody.
Schmidt launches him as a baggy mouth and sound-poetry-looper who, only using his vocals and a loop-station, fathoms the bottlenecks and shoals of enunciation’s ocean, pulls burbing Arp’s beard; always at it, without having to gargle with any trendy recreational drink.
His time lapsing Zick-hiti-zopp-version of „Seepferdchen und Flugfische“ with its Bumbalo-bambo-groove is a direct homage to Dada-Hugo, other moldings of his oto-rhino-laryngologic sound poetry are even more quaint. As a gospeling repeating rifle he’s vexing between „I’m searching“, „I know“ and „I believe“ the gods’ heavenly trinity „ruapS“ „müüü“ and „ottogott“. He mixes up gasping yapping and mongolian alarm of sirens with scruples about John 1,1. After this, all lip services concerning the logos seem to be what they actually are. Dazzling zinging provides the tongue a new sharpening, but yet she is animalic-motoric comic-onomato-poetry’s court.
The maw oozes a mooing foghorn’s orchestra, he’s becoming a prayer mill, kibbling „ottogott“ into pieces: „Oh my god, where’s my dog.“ „Moaning poem“ is being cranked with closed mouth, the finale is being snarled and spun around with a sisal-sesame-mantra, interspersed with declamations à la Christoph Anders, then whirls into a swooshing boom-boom-maelstrom. Then, all of a sudden, it exposes itself as roaring silence. Hindermost, there is a collective repetition’s hula-hoop. Whew, ever since Jaap Blonk I didn’t hear such an inherently consistent „voicism“.”
Rigobert Dittmann, Bad Alchemy #81
