“Sometimes it helps to close your eyes.”

Diastolic Murmurs formed in 1985. Adam Bohman and Richard Crow began their findings inside Philip Wachsmann’s near-legendary Electronic Music Studio at the City Literary Institute, London—an electro-acoustic lab now erased, but still resonant.
Their practice is pseudo-medical, visceral, and invasive. Objects—preferably damaged, broken, or discarded—are opened up and interrogated. Contact microphones are directly injected. Sound is extracted, not performed. What emerges is an inner, occult anatomy: rupture, friction, residue.

This method became Live Electronic Dissections—audio-visual performances informed by “theatre of cruelty”—and a parallel body of home recordings made at the Institution of Rot, Finsbury Park. These works circulated quietly on limited cassette and CD-R editions, passed hand to hand, archived imperfectly.

Not industrial by definition, but undeniably aligned. The group’s severe output—early releases, tape covers, photographs, posters, collages, zines—shares a bloodline with transgressive industrial and noise culture. Bohman and Crow remain obsessive home-tapers. Early material still festers online, preserved by tape archivists such as Mors Mea and Celestial Railroad. More recently, certain fragments have resurfaced via Nostalgie de la boue, Psych.KG, and scatterArchive. There are rumours that their seminal debut Electro-Medicine may yet be exhumed by Hospital Productions. No confirmation. No pulse.