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The Hafler Trio, "Fuck"
Following logically from the female-centric Masturbatorium, the lengthier and more complex Fuck (1992) shifts the focus to male sexual energy, which manifests itself in considerably more visceral and aggressive music.  Having exclusively heard Andrew's more abstract late-period work before I finally got ahold of this album, I was completely blindsided by its explosive and visceral nature.  I like it– brute force suites The Hafler Trio beautifully.  This album is great.
Andrew McKenzie does not waste any time with foreplay on Fuck, as the first half blasts into a hot-blooded coital frenzy after a mere 40 seconds of ominous droning.  It isn't an especially abstract or intellectually detached dose of aural sex either–McKenzie could not be more blunt in his attempt to musically approximate an impassioned fuck.  Naturally, such an endeavor has huge potential to be an embarrassing, unintentionally comic fiasco, but Andrew puts on an absolute tour de force and it is absolutely overwhelming (particularly played at maximum volume, as urged in the liner notes).
The backbone of the song is a beat that deftly replicates a rapid heartbeat that grows perceptibly faster and faster as it unfolds/explodes.  That unrelenting pulse gives the piece a very tense feel and a palpable sense of danger, as it sounds like it could all derail into utter chaos at any moment.  A lot of that illusion is also due to the escalating mayhem surrounding it, such as Andrew's rhythmic moans and gasps, the sinister and hollow-sounding roars in the foreground, and the grotesquely amplified cicadas and woodpeckers that seems to be trying to burrow into my goddamn brain.  McKenzie and his fellow mixers (Zbigniew Karkowski and  Hilmar Örn Hilmarsson) completely outdid themselves here–the first part of Fuck bursts from the speakers with singular violence and clarity.
After getting about as crazy as it possibly can, the "lust" half of the album gradually becomes slower and calmer until it is ultimately winnowed down to just Andrew's breathing.  That breathing then segues seamlessly into the album's languid, post-coital second half, which provides a much needed oasis of calm after the savage ear ravishing that preceded it.  It doesn't stay post-coital for long though, as a bass-y processed moan coheres into the slow and persistent rhythm of yet more sex.  It could not be more different than the first half though, augmenting its languorous cadence with only a pleasant shimmer and multiple layers of steady breathing (presumably all Andrew's, though Annie Sprinkle was intimately involved in eliciting the source material for the album).  It all stops without warning in the middle of the piece, leaving only the ambient sounds of the rural night, a sloooow heartbeat, and some haunting distant murmurs.
I am not quite sure what McKenzie was trying to do thematically by ending the piece with such eerie ghost-like moans, though I suspect it represents a slow fade from consciousness into dream.  Regardless, it sounds great and it is a perfect note to end the album on.  Also, the ambiguous shadow it casts at the end of a such a tranquil and organic stretch is naggingly and deliciously mysterious.  I can find absolutely nothing to gripe about here: Fuck is one of the most coherent, striking, and immediately gratifying albums in The Hafler Trio's vast and elusive oeuvre.
(Note- this album is currently out of print.  Also, the third part of The Hafler Trio's improbable trilogy of sex-themed albums ( I Love You) has never been released.)
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