Sparkling Wide Pressure
Press the Reverse and Give Me the Tape [CS; Lillerne]

Frank Baugh, in addition to running the most-excellent 3-inch specializing CD-R imprint in all the land, Kimberly Dawn, has made a modest name for himself in the ambient music realm by producing tapes just like the one I’m listening to and reviewing for you right here and now. That’s not to say that he’s a guy who’s in the habit of repeating himself, but that is to say he’s in the habit of being incredibly consistent with his work, spinning yards of audio-yarn with his guitar and pedals, swirling moody ambiance between folk and soft-pop stylings. And of the five thousand or so Baugh-related releases out there, although I’ve only heard a small fraction of them, I’m inclined to name Press the Reverse and Give Me the Tape my favorite, if only for the reason that it’s the best-of what’s best of what Sparkling Wide Pressure is all about. Which is truly a tough thing to describe, a sound that belongs wholly unto one person and one person only. But I’ve yet to hear anyone match Baugh’s wonderful way, a way that is on full display here with a fluid vision and rounded arc — guitar, tape loops, found sounds, some synths and a desperate and distant vocal haunting the entire mix. It’s delicate, thoughtful, full of sadness and love and heartache. It flows like your backyard creek, and rocks like your grandmother’s rocking chair on the porch. Its skin is withered like an old newspaper, and its blue eyes have tears in them that refuse to fall. Wind blows through its hair, and the sun is rising off to its West, warming the Earth around it to the touch. Memory itself as an agent of pure meditative speculation; that seems to be the best I can do to sum up the Sparkling Wide Pressure thing. It ain’t perfect, but it’ll have to do.

Cerberus

Cerberus seeks to document the spate of home recorders and backyard labels pressing limited-run LPs, 7-inches, cassettes, and objet d’art with unique packaging and unknown sound. We love everything about the overlooked or unappreciated. If you feel you fit such a category, email us here.

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