Blip sorcery. Squelch seduction. Two measures. One measure. The “beat.” The “leads.” The “melody.” Steady creeping. Space nautilus. Demon semaphore. Quicksand villa. Tape seam. Tape dust. Tape spawn. Spew deputy. Pan pots. Manhole midwife. Webster’s Dictionary defines unguent as “n. an oily substa—” oh, god, what’s happening to my legs (?) make it stop (!) — no, no, I realize now to just let it do its thing. I have faith that nothing will go wrong. I creep into the alcove, cover my lower half in sawdust from the bag, and try to just wait it out. I cannot see the moon from where I am laying. “There was a band/ playin’/ in my head,” and it was one man looping Sidrassi tones and alien signals into, like, songs, but maybe closer to episodes.
Unguent crawls out of the Philthdepthsia underground clutching his head and also 100 tapes in a box. I approach him and hold both hands out, palms up, but already have $7 folded into a neat square in one of the palms. This is how to initiate the handshake. Mid-handshake, I whisper all of my pertinent details. Unguent assures me that he will withdraw relics from his Refulgent Sepulchre and convey them to me as soon as, like, soon, but that it can’t be now. He strokes the box. “Not with them looking.” I look around and think there is no one else here.
Some copies of Scanners remain, but I dunno, I bet not many. E-instructions are available to complete the grip.
Fault Lines [even-track sampler]
Willfully stuck between the mineral and metal, this particular soiree of travelers (known as the Fault Lines) have hiked their way down into the Earth to scour and sniff out the most unheard of sounds. Teetering on the brink of madness and genius, these few are daring to dig into dark psychological depths, deep in doubt and dehydration, while trying to avoid fate by drawing upon the inspiration of pitch-black atmosphere. The Fault Lines’ group discussion is all about chance and destiny, though most of these traveling artists speak in tongues, if at all, and instead veer off into unpredictable territory, which in turn complements their intention. Starved of originality and nutrition, this wide-eyed team glows only in their collective mind. They stretch the ability to perceive beyond what is visually imaginable by tapping straight at the core. OUR pounding core. And are potentially bringers of new land. Who knows? Pack Projects knows.
Fault Lines 12-inch has been pressed on clear 180-gram vinyl, which is limited to 150 copies, including a custom ink-printed jacket, insert booklet with text and photos from writer Jen Hutton and composers, and a full-color immediate digital-download postcard. Composers consist of Morgan Gerstmar, Molly Allis, Jenica Anderson, David Paha, Jules Gimbrone, Aidan Reynolds, Max Wanderman, Odeya Nini, Marcus Rubio (Choco’s own m rubz Grinder), Todd Lerew, Alex Black, Sarah Faith Gottesdiener, and Óscar Santos. Ships out “on or around” September 29. Dig in and stream the even-numbered tracks on this 11-song compilation below:
• Pack Projects: http://packprojects.us
You kids and your damn retro-kitsch format fuckery!!! Normally, I’d give a wipe when yet another x-wave hisscore outfit decides to press their latest EP as an ultra-limited cassette release with no vinyl or CD in sight.
But Chasms is different. I really, really, really like them. Have ever since I watched the video for “Darker Outside” and streamed their 2012 cassette/digital release When It Comes. I like them even more now that I’ve watched the brand-new video for “Not in this Dimension” and streamed their new EP Riser, which (surprise, surprise) is also available in the physical form only as a cassette from some super lo-fi Tumblr label.
That’s cool and all, but what does a no-tape-player-having dude have to do to get these two cassettes re-pressed together as Sides A and B of a When It Comes/Riser LP?
Chasms’ newest EP Riser on Dream Recordings is available for stream below:
As puffs of smoke pour from the evergreens, beaming headlights cast eerie shadows and a (familiar?) specter sinks into the very darkness from which “Inframince” emerges.
With less than a month to go before its release, Syzygy is now available to pre-order from HEM, and as Dalt prepares for her European tour with Julia Holter, TMT got in touch with the Berlin-based musician to shed some light on her infrathin, woodland experience.
We recently announced that you would be touring with the wonderful Julia Holter, who also features on Commotus. How much of an influence has she been on your work, and what are your anticipations about sharing a stage with her?
Julia has an admirable and rare capacity to make pop music in which expectation is morphing incessantly, music that runs on its own, that doesn’t need to go back necessarily to something already explored. Those things to some extent are now part of my music process. Or at least when in doubt while structuring songs, I ask myself: do I really need to go back to this melody?
I can’t wait to start this tour with her, it’s really really exciting.
The premiere for “Glosolalia” was very well received. What does it feel like to finally have some material from Syzygy in the public domain?
Strange. Ideally, I would have preferred that a first approach to the record was as a whole. Syzygy at some point became this structure that was running on its own, with an autonomy gained by integration. When isolating tracks, I just wonder if they still contain a certain identity to the whole. I really don’t know what one can extrapolate from them to that existing whole from which they were subtracted. There could be hilarious extrapolations, that I wish I could know, but that unfortunately I will never know. To my friends, I’ve only shown the whole record from beginning to end.
Your new video for “Inframince” has a very unsettling theme, where you only appear for a few short frames. What can you tell us about your aspirations for the video?
This may or may not be me; if there’s something we (directors Alejandro and Luis) wanted to explore in the video was this thin line between what you see and what’s really there, what light reveals or what shadows hide, the boundaries and the edges in dark-luminous worlds. These ideas are just other possibilities of the “infrathin” concept. Duchamp said that this notion was impossible to define; one can only give examples of it, like the warmth of a chair that has just been left, when the tobacco smoke smells also of the mouth which exhales it…. from there, with just a little of creativity, you can set a universe of infrathins.
“Inframince” is the second song on Syzygy, and it makes an immediate departure from the prickly heat of “Glosolalia” into some kind of gorgeous, drawn-out humidity. What can people expect to follow on from that once the album is released?
“Inframince” departs from “Glosolalia” to an interlude called “Soliloquios.” The interlude then gives life to the next track “Vitti,” which is a kind of homage to Monica Vitti for her part in the movie Deserto Rosso. She’s trying to survive in the modern world of cultural neurosis and existential doubt. But! But! There’s still a possible exotic paradise after that; Not everything is necessarily delirium here!
Lucrecia Dalt’s Syzygy is out October 15 via Human Ear Music.
Tim Hecker is impatient. He’s got a Halloween treat for you, but he just can’t wait until then, so you’re gonna get it on October 14 instead (SORRY!). While he knows you were looking forward to a bag full of Twix, Snickers, Gobstoppers, Butterfingers, Nerds, or whatever, he has something even better for you: Virgins!. Now, don’t get too excited — I know what you’re thinking, pervert. No, it’s actually an album of music on CD (yes, people still make those) or LP (yeah, those too actually), and in keeping with the tone of the season, he’s dropped this little teaser called “Black Refraction.” You can watch it in all of its blurry, swinging thurible, cathedral gothic glory above. If you’re still disappointed, I’m sure there’s a gas station right down from your house where you can find any one of the aforementioned candies for about a dollar.
Compound Form [excerpt]
I once saw Coppice (duo consisting of Joseph Kramer and Noé Cuéllar) perform a great piece utilizing a pump organ and analog electronics at the typically laptop-heavy Spark Music Festival in Minneapolis. The striking parts about Coppice’s set was how they didn’t make their electronics the focal point of the piece or transform the pump organ into something alien, but instead naturally expanded the acoustics of their instruments.
On Compound Form, the duo continues to explore the possibilities of expanding acoustic sonorities through the use of subtly placed electronics, and the results are stunning. The sole 30-minute composition that makes up this release ebbs and flows through rich drones, fractured melodies, and airy moments of near-negative space. Throughout, it’s often hard to tell when the natural sounds of the duo’s prepared pump organ end and when the electronic alterations begin. Despite this seemingly limited palette of sounds, Coppice excel at creating a surprisingly diverse tapestry out of their tools of choice in a manner that resembles the instrumental expansion of Pauline Oliveros’ accordion works and Jason Kahn’s percussion recordings.
Compound Form is out now via Triple Bath. You can listen to an excerpt of the album below: