It wasn’t until years later, when the great-grandchildren of the great-grandchildren who got lost behind their great grandfather driving to find his dad’s old house foundation, including the fruit cellar. At the time they were looking, only the fruit cellar existed — just barely — almost petrified in the land where the wood was encased by cement, still slightly stained by berries. Although, it remained unseen until the great-great grandchildren finally found it; the highway stretched now atop of the great-great-great grandfather’s foundation. The fruit cellar still a dent in the side of this hill, the only hill in this flat of land. Above it, a tree with gnarling branches. Stone shelves still protruding, cracking at their ends, and the bottom of a doorframe, still hanging onto a hinge where a door once swung. So the great-great-great grandchildren smoked a little, drank a little, turn’t up a lot, and dozed off into the side of this hill, as the memory they never knew fade with their stewed minds.
Rito by the duo Gruta, comprised of Cadu Ternorio + Thiago Miazzo, bares similar nostalgia of soundscapes that once were and now are just barely traversed in the realm of audible sculpture in 2016. Tape stretches like old school Nonhorse. Squeaks and crackling crawls like demo-tape Hair Police. Entrenched keys you once heard in a Wolf Eyes 15 ltd 12-inch that nobody really knows about but you and listener-fam. Gruta is going grey with wisdom in noise. And the memory of Rito just might get you back into the harshness of experimental WON. Get shredded via Brava:
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