Two Bar Loops
Just as the Wolfman in Monster Squad has nards [Editor’s Note: Bort just unwillingly became best pals with my fiancée], so does Frost. Except instead of nards, Frost has beats. For days. And his chosen formula of beat formulation is that of dusty stank. Hardly is there a dearth of dusty stank on his Two Bar Loops tape, either. Shit’s so funky, it could make a waste collectors’ eyes water. Matter of fact, I was playing it at work the other night, while my co-workers and I were trying to get the fuck out of there, and I turned my back for one minute, only to find Frost turned off and this shit turned on. Needless to say, ‘twas grody fuckin’ Jodie. I guess it was sorta like passing a dead skunk during a car ride with your family: they just hold their fingers to their noses, griping about the stench, driving ahead to more familiar smells, while you sit in the back and silently smile.
Unfortunately, the tapes for Two Bar Loops are all gone, but if you’re a fan of mellow loops and snares that pop like ruptured blisters, the whole thing is streaming below.
Boiler Room: Dirty Tapes 004
What the fuck is Boiler Room? It’s a television channel, right? Sorta like a very specific YouTube channel, mebbe. And Boiler Room spots can pretty much pop up and happen wherever, I’m pretty sure. Just as long as you coordinate with someone AT Boiler Room prior to it happening, is my working assumption. So what’s stopping me (other than NOT wanting to shit on Dirty Tapes, because –CEO– Daniel runs more than just a label, but a threshold of outlets in the constantly shifting community of BK-beats) from picking up Lord SMS off Evergreen Ave., grabbing Miles’ roommate with a camera in Long Island City, plugging in all the production equipment, and doing a Boiler Room set driving around NYC for an hour?
That’d be tite, with all the luxurious views paired with the spine splitting beats of Lord SMS mixed with darling piano that’s inevitably crushed by relentlessly looped vocals and: New York City. Also, as you can hear a lot of his Boiler Room: Dirty Tapes 004 set is off the new WONTON SWOOSH EP. But completely in a live modality like no other audible hyper. You can have people jumping ALL over the stage pressing buttons, but very few can pull off the sonic showmanship of Lord SMS. I’m booking him as DJ for my wedding next October. His reply, “No requests!” :)
“Drink and Try Not to Cry”
Angela James swills her misery like a pro, exposing its various hues, imploring us to join her in its strange, revelling gratification. She reminds us that there is something uniquely (and usually only briefly) satisfying about indulging in a hard bout of melancholy. A schadenfreude of the self, shared for reverberation. Angela James gets drunk to be nobody, anybody, not somebody.
This is a portrait slipping in and out of focus, an intake of breath before the shudder. Its palette is written in steel guitar and sloping vocals, drenched in gratuitous reverb. There’s no real metaphors here, just a disarming sincerity, a capturing of affect so explicit in its mood that at times it feels almost dishonest, like a diary written with the hope of being secretly read.
The collage of heartache is complemented by Jordan Martin’s autumnal textures, layered over sleepy shots of the Californian mountains. James’s deadpan shroud ebbs in and out of place, lending to the air of calculated sorrow: sadness seized and dissected before it can properly take hold.
While many find comfort in such moments at the cemetery of Country cliché, James’s power is to channel the sounds and emotional honesty of such a musical canon in a way that doesn’t feel trite, wandering and wallowing at the same time.
Smitten in the closest contact obtainable, the crackling across you imagination is less tangible audio and more-of: dream reality. No real narration. Labyrinth-like and cornered, dead-ended and portioned, the #GEMINISS takes listeners to a zone located in a reflection of negative-battling-imbalanced light. Colors run together. Hot and cold are better senseless. And like a child’s crayon book, proportions of almost-right; the area of your computer that you rarely visit, but when you do, it’s like witnessing a wonder of the world. Hidden, existent, and beheld in time. Smurphy awaits the exercise.
This new #GEMINISS by Smurphy can’t resist popping off. No tom-foolery. Gimmicks unrecycled. Knotted in sound as sculpture. Check it out via N◆A◆A◆F◆I streaming below:
A quick flip through the Catherine Debard’s moniker, YlangYlang who released Am I being overdramatic on the ever-persistent Ailanthus Recordings last month, and we find the Montreal artist keeps steady an appreciation of space, interstellar and intrapersonal. In past, now sold out, physical releases like Cottonmouth see-er or Tune your eyes into kaleidoscope vision, we’re brought into Catherine’s headspace. Feeling free or shackled, depending on the decorations.
Off her new album, the shuffled lullaby “Oh Moon” is lifted by Catherine’s voice that’s hovering carelessly around your room. Turn the lights off, let your eyes get glossy, but squint enough to see the video. We have Japanese candy sashimi tutorials, trees, Catherine Debard’s prayer hands, an artists rendition of the moon – it’s a all-inclusive bedroom show for anyone who can’t get up to Montreal.
Toronto’s Inyrdisk Records is making a limited-run of Am I being overdramatic CDs and it comes out this week! Plus, peep Pyramid Island / Parallel Beaches, another #rare album she released on the Montreal label You can’t help but feel hypnotized.