Jonathan James Carr
Well Tempered Ignorance [CS; Field Hymns]

It’s tempting to write some kind of analysis of this tape’s title in relation to Bach’s “The Well-Tempered Clavier,” since Jonathan James Carr is a classically trained pianist and because, you know, the title. But alas, it is entirely impossible. Made marginally famous for his komische-kraut synth stylings in his regular deal, Seattle’s Brain Fruit, Carr’s debut cassette is an open-structured study in sheer impatience that blends free-jazz with synth-drone (somehow), melodies and unstable hums butted up against each other in some of the most claustrophobic psychedelia known to mankind. Textures, colors, tones, scales, swirls, sparks, spittle, splatter. Not necessarily in that order, usually one or more of those things are happening at the same time, adjectives ramming into each other with blind abandon at breakneck speeds. Your neurons may have a tough time keeping up with side-A, but side-B is a bit more “tempered” as it were, a creamy blend of streaking synths and rolling bass tones with the drone pulsing and engorging and growing and working itself out, sweat glistening off its weary brow. Both sides have enough circular motion to them to leave you dizzy and maybe a little sick, so hang onto both handrails and feel your mind explode as you escalate the figurative steps to Pluto.


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