The Fig of all Ferns & Celsius
Last week, Terlu released two separate albums on Exo Tapes, The Fig of all Ferns and Celsius (what an overachiever, am I right?). Each, you could say, represent two sides of a coin. Both sides are aged and well travelled, scored and marked by knife cuts, but one’s been turned upwards on the ground, exposed to the sun a bit more than the other.
The upturned side, The Fig of all Ferns, features moments reminiscent to the opening loop of Black Dice’s “Kokomo” (see: Update Dream State); that is, if the audio had be excavated from the bottom of the Amazon river and not properly dried out. Skunky cadences chase after an uncatchable end result while keyboard melodies emerge from beneath the muck, only to be replaced by new ones in a moments time. Nothing sticks around for too long, like ants scurrying to do their duties, always changing and moving, but still remaining elementally the same. And The Fig of all Ferns is a diverting listen, too. Not all doomy and gloomy. Aguirre’s head-space, this is not. It wouldn’t surprise me if some of this was lifted from an old unreleased jungle themed video game.
The unexposed side (are you as done with this metaphor as I am?), Celsius, is longer in form, and isn’t necessary dark in an evil or heavy way, just tenebrous and nighty-er than The Fig of all Ferns. The synths this round are more contorted and stacked and higher reaching, and the pulse of percussion is absent, leaving loops of note-strokes to lead the way down the audio path, allowing Terlu’s fingers to get good and saucy overtop. And your speakers are not blown, by the way (which was my initial reaction). That’s, like, how it’s suppose to sound, you know?
The Fig of all Ferns and Celsius, in concept, are each simple as a dimple, but still engaging and repeatable. I’m smitten as a kitten with them both. They’re out on that hot and popular format of cassette in editions of 35, so go on and get you some!
“Just a Taste”
The combination of a mysterious rock band and Juiceboxxx’s ever reliable Thunderzone label is a match made in heaven. Through his work at the label and Thunderzone Radio, Juiceboxxx has proven himself a tastemaker of the finest rock, hip-hop, and everything in between. The video for “Just a Taste” consists musically of a repetitive riff and the singer belting out the titular phrase, while the visuals are lifted from some forgotten horror movie, as some punks are being pursued by a giant dog. If you’re familiar with Thunderzone you know that all of this is very tongue-in-cheek, but insanely fun, nevertheless. Cock Rock is coming soon, and be sure to keep getting “Just a Taste” until the LP drops.
• Thunderzone: http://enterthethunderzone.com
Weak Left Input
Whhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhho’s into getting lethargic this Friday? Feeling the pensive wake of this week’s heat wave? Or basking in the chilliness of some cold spell a that breezed past a few of y’all states? Personally, I’m just looking forward to when my heartburn subsides. Wait, wait a minute. No fucking way it worked!!!!!! Not only is James Fella rereleasing his 2009 CS Weak Left Input on vinyl via Gilgongo Records (CD available here), but thankfully, since he’s keeping this burning in production, he’s figured out the audible solution to agita!
The cover art is legit too, and appears unchanged since the original release. What I mean: the lines are definitely not parallel to the releases’ physical/edge/sides/corners, and the title listed jaggedly within these lines. Thus, providing a solid visualization to the sculpture James Fella has made in Weak Left Input. So scope Gilgongo Records October 1 and spin away all confines of space constriction and acid reflux. In the mean time, feel it digitally (streaming) below:
So nasty!! Fuck what you can hear. How does this music breathe with you? ‘Cause I feel like if there were music I needed to get my blood flowing while remaining in a pretty mellow mood, it’d be Anenon’s “Karma.” Especially when I’m at fashion gatherings – I mean shows in NYC/BK – I feel like I’d be set right at ease listening to Anenon live. Which is why I already pre-ordered me a copy of his newest LP Sagrada to blast out and echo across the NYC skyline. Should be appropriate, considering Anenon (a.k.a. Brian Allen Simon) owns the label Non Projects, and the LP’s release date is September 24, which is just in time for the perfect season in the city! People are hardly OUT. It’s chilly/brisk and nothing is sticking to you. Just bring around your portable LP suitcase and start spinning Sagrada as soon as you get it! If I hear you playing it, I’ll knock on your door and invite you for a vape or two!
Thirty meters beneath the surface and I’m starting to lose it. I watch my arms flail with the tide like they belong to a stranger. The decision to dive deeper or to come back up is easy. It’s nice down here. Why leave? I am not leaving.
Having mastered a strain of kinetic technoid synthesis equally fit for the party’s twilight hours and the slow walk home down the boulevard, Ricardo Donoso dons an oxygen mask and sinks into the murky water off the coast for the first full length LP under his Scuba Death moniker.
Forty meters down. I haven’t been drinking and I haven’t been smoking and I haven’t been modulating my consciousness at all on my own but the ocean takes care of all that. My gauges are so far away and the bottom is so far away. I am ready for everything.
Donoso’s Scuba Death compositions unfold as miniature narratives animated by creeping analog thuds, obscured synth pads, and overlapped percussion patterns. His wide mixes cohere across underwater field recording interludes and swathes of near silence, while each burst of rhythm jolts our senses back to life. When we’re not asphyxiating, our heads bob. When we’re not moving, the tank drains.
Fifty to seventy meters and I just don’t remember. There’s something I should be doing. I am here watching the bubbles escape from the valve. I’m hearing pulses. I’m at peace.
Stream Nitrogen Narcosis in full below, and follow the spiral down. Donoso’s senses of momentum and structural drama guide us through dips and surges of BPM as our perceptions narrow to a pinpoint in the darkness. When the epic “The Rapture of the Deep” hits, we feel it. The hi-fi bass swells and disfigured synth squiggles vie with the hi-hats for our final moments of attention before the fade. One potential option: hit play again, and spend another 35 minutes submerged.
Nitrogen Narcosis breaches on September 1 via Seattle’s finest zone merchants Further Records. You can preorder the LP now.