This is what you heard in the background while cooking last night instead of listening to “Suppression” by Profligate:
Grey’s Anatomy: Episode 20 (aired April 4, 2013)
“Why can’t I stay here like we did last night?” -boy
“Well, that’s not going to work out.” -man
“I don’t want to go with her. My mom and dad are here.” -boy
“Listen, okay. They’re going to give you a great dinner and probably give you ice cream for dessert. And let you play video games.” -man
*boy breathes deeply a lot*
“Hey. Hey-hey-hey, it’s going to be fine. I promise.” -man
“Okay. Is that… better?” -other man
“Yeah, ah-but, um - practice it a bunch more times. The faster you get in and out, the better your outcomes will be.” -lady
“Promise me you’ll kill me before I start forgetting where my keys are.” -other lady
“Of course” -lady
“…I don’t want my kids to go through what I went through.” -other lady
“Don’t worry. You had me at lethal injection.” -lady
“Wow is that my door-prize?” -dude
“Just so you know I was working with these two Syrian guys today, and they hardly get any supplies any more.” -chick
North Korea, amirite? JK… Cool Ranch tacos hurt you. What’s creepier: hearing this dialogue or potentially being on a video camera in this here “Suppression” video? Regardless, Profligate been tearing it up. Everyone should own this 12-inch. It’s at 45 RPMs & cheap. “Suppression” is off ex-Night Burger fellah’s 12-inch Come Follow Me on More Records and Hot Releases. It’s dark and far from fuck-off.
The fine line between getting up and falling asleep in terms of this track “Raise” is directly in its name. Bitter Fictions (Devin Friesen) does a real interesting job of distorting the line between awake and asleep, not only in the track, but also in the video. Unsure of location and vision. Not entirely trusting reality, but being forced to as a reference point. Thought drawing upon conclusive colors opposed to finding a new one and selling it to Wal-Mart of China. What can be reality in an immersed world of electronics? Plucking? Yeah, it’s there, with a dash of strumming, maybe. The measurement of time and repetition of modality. Yet, is that any different than sleep? Can one keep track of dream-time compared to real time? Nahh. Or can Bitter Fictions provide the answer? It’s merely thought provoked if the provocation was once in thought. Does it spin or twine? Ideas come into a succession of layers, and filing them down is all at once preposterous and vision-defining. Feel it throughout Bitter Fictions’ new self-titled LP out now.
• Bitter Fictions: http://shakingbox.tumblr.com
a i r s p o r t s
First I was gonna start this blurb off with a “more cowbell” reference, and then I realized that is super lame. Then I wanted to talk about how much I love that early-80s synth “cowbell” sound that we still hear all over the place, and how it really doesn’t sound like a cowbell at all, but is so unmistakably TR-808. But then I realized I don’t know enough about synths to say that, and one of you readers will probably be all like “Aaaactutally, that sound first was heard in blah blah blah.”
So instead, I’ll just tell you that the newest track from French producer a i r s p o r t s features a hell of a lot of nostalgic analog percussion, and it builds into one of the best raise-the-roof-in-your-desk-chair tracks of the year so far. As a “taste of what’s to come,” a i r s p o r t s has released “Feelings” on SoundCloud to get us all psyched up for an immanent release.
• a i r s p o r t s: http://airsports.bandcamp.com
Spoiler Alert VII
Spoiler Alert is a Memphis, Tennessee-based blog/posse that emphasizes the city’s small albeit blossoming electronic music scene. Curated in large part by Clifton Anthony, who also boasts a deep list of monikers associated with the blog, Spoiler Alert has created a community of like-minded producers who meld trap beats, hypnagogic synth trails, and a clever blend of hip-hop and video game love to put a twist on the sound Memphis is famous for.
Their seventh mixtape has been curated by T∆NDEM and includes music from many Memphis producers, lovingly wrapped in psychedelic 8-bit bacon, doused in codeine, and served with a side of some fancy Japanese sauce. It’s a blood bath of hetero-ghetto-new-age-trap. This ain’t some chopped-and-screwed, 20th-century revival muzak-ass shit. The only vapors here are coming from your roommate’s vaporizer. Weird hodgepodge samples abound. Everybody gets a slice. You dig?
• Spoiler Alert: http://www.spoiler-alert.net
Last year, Andy Stott’s magnificent Luxury Problems blew open the ears of many listeners to new possibilities for vocal performance — or, at least, new possibilities for vocal performance in the context of electronic music. In fact, more than expand the spectrum of mere “possibilities,” Stott’s album appended certain responsibilities to the treatment of the human voice in that particular realm of dark, chasmic sound. More important than reciting mere hooks or spitting looped phrases, the human voice became a tool of texture, of pure expressive force, not to be demoted to a mere messenger of morphemes.
For some listeners (this writer included), this may have been a lesson only recently learned, but surely many of Stott’s peers have known for a while. Rainer Veil — a duo from the North of England and one of Andy Stott’s label mates on Modern Love — certainly understands it. The entirety of their new EP, Struck, is available for your substantial streaming pleasure via Modern Love’s SoundCloud, embedded here. But, more specifically, allow me to direct your attention to “Bala,” the album’s centerpiece, its longest and epitomizing track. In particular, pay attention to the human sigh (at least what I assume to be human) that drops through the mix about 30 seconds in. A more sustained vocal performance shortly follows, but it’s this nearly percussive, lurching breath that makes me fall fully for the song. Rather than serve the tenuous gods of lyric, or even melody, the first sigh of “Bala” has a characteristic most like the ploughing of a ridged brushstroke, displaying a painter’s own impact and presence against his canvas, otherwise smooth.
Soooo many people fucking their neighbors. Don Draper and the broad from Freaks and Geeks with black hair. My pal fucking his (not single) roommate. I’m sure Grams has a thing with the dentist next door. A college pal of mine married his next door neighbor, as they started sleeping together three months before she broke up with her ex. Fucking, A-bomb of all people is seeing the 40-year-old down the block from the house he owns. My coworker wants to get up in my desk neighbor. Kevin Bacon always inside his old neighbor while tryna get back his wife in the Following. And aside from my Grams, I don’t think any of these people are Christian. Or at least, they aren’t now. Also, nooooobody likes plums or peaches like Matthew Papich (Co La). Err, maybe he doesn’t like these fruits?
Same time: my girl now was never my neighbor. She also don’t believe in Christianity. I mean, neither do I, but I do have a witching-hour, in which I usually get bombed-out wasted for two or three hours after my girl hits the hay, and I listen to music and write or game or sit. And thinking of my praise that way, I worship that moment in which I’m merely my girl’s neighbor. As if I’m a roommate, thinking of the love I have for my roommate, religiously sipping on [whatever booze is in the pantry] and puffin’ on that LOUD. Usually my pals are bitching at me through an online microphone to turn down my music. Personally, Co La for me has been in my catalog for a minute or two. So when the new Co La LP Moody Coupe drops May 7 on Software Recording Co., my stereo will track out HARD.