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.
Eventually, darkness will consume us all. No matter how hollow your superficial shit deepens itself in a wallow of weeks-old wading milk (what; all for the sake of alliteration). Bath tubs filled with unimaginables. Casinos left empty. Funds applying to pieces that are of no consequence to future intent. Don’t matter how well you word it, if you’re calling yourself a D-List celebrity, you’ve already become a meta-ghost in a world of opinion that matters as much as, “Get outta the fucking way, I gotta get home and enjoy my life!” It’s chill. Let it all eat you alive.
Slowly, life always recollects itself, and I’ve always found solace in Dirty Beaches’ music and videos. Above is the Dirty Beaches a teaser video (shot by the beach dirtier himself, Alex Zhang Hungtai) from the upcoming instrumental album STATELESS “COMING SOON, FALL 2014” via Zoo Music Records. It’s been a minute since his FIRST fully legit INSTRUMENTAL album, which was a pink tape on Night People records, and totally dope and darker than any meta-self absorption you can muster up. Keep on the look out for that good-good..
Mind bent on permanent static. Flirting with the murky top, but drifting further and further away. Going out deep. No paralysis. Cloaked frames of chance, shining through darkness. Space and Time: earthly words for immaterial vastness. Other human, bawdy boasts of absolutes will be crushed under the thumb of Street Thunder’s sound. Pure sound. Taking you away. Beauty pokes it’s head out, as does ugliness. Overwhelmed by continuation. Growing older as you float. Clipped of youth at every second. Unconcerned.
Cassettes of Galaxies are still available. Reckno is to blame, and I’m pointing my happy little finger at them right now.
• Reckno: http://reckno.bandcamp.com
“Sun Moved the Oceans”
The dynamic yet vintage-tinged video for “Sun Moved the Oceans,” promoting the album Golden Eagle of Illumiation by the U.S. trans-dimensional shaman Steven Siciliano – working under the moniker Sunfighter – combines breathtaking vistas of deserts, mountains, clouds, lakes, and plains with the kaleidoscopic, abstract visions recalling the original, organic visuals for the first psychedelic concerts in the 1960’s, which get more prominent, even aggressive toward the end of the video, attacking the watcher with a barrage of almost epilepsy-inducing flashing visuals straight from Ken Russell’s Altered States. Music wise, the song occupies the territory somewhere between the classic Germanik desert worship (a’la Agitation Free, or, more lately, the desert kraut jams of Datashock), and the stoned, heat-processed drone rock of stoner rockers or the sun worshippers from Barn Owl in a happier mode. Fans of more old-school-styled psychedelia will fit at home here, especially the fans of classic sounding organs, which are so abundant here it will make them orgasm all over themselves.
There’s an unusual tenderness hidden in the background of Gut Nose’s newest release Filthy City. This tenderness is exactly what builds the world around the music that comes and goes as it pleases throughout the release. Weather it’s the street, wind in the night sky, or shuffling on pavement, it’s eventually and brutally stricken from ears as listeners are directed to hear [noise pollution] or [harsh] or [violence]. And the atmosphere of Filthy City is well represented in Gut Nose’s first single from the LP, “Unknown Allure.”
What a track title: “Unknown Allure,” embedded in a release that is entirely driven upon a self-visualization of a city torn to filth. Ooze dripping down the pillars of an overpass. Something is rustling before a shadowed figure facing it under the train-track staircase. Paper ruffles past a pile of rocks. On ‘em is a bruise of color and a woman either crying out for help or in pleasure. Will you help her? There’s a number on the back. Follow the “Unknown Allure” to it’s core.
Gut Nose’s newest LP Filthy City is out on Styles Upon Styles Records September 9, featuring “Unknown Allure” streaming below: