Sparkling Wide Pressure - Golden Thread (Kimberly Dawn 3" CD-R)

Here's an interesting one. Basically a remix album, this finds Frank gripping some recordings made by a friend of his, Blake Barton, and using them as the source for this little 3"er. Strange sounds abound, but it all has the distinct feel of a Sparkling Wide Pressure release, a testament to the strength of vision practiced by Baugh.

The little thing starts off with some looped smokers-cough vocals that growl over and over while clanging guitar sort of rebounds around beneath. Takes its time spreading out, but when it does it sprawls all the way, lending itself toward drawn out percussion and semi-tonal murmur. Starts to really lift-off about minute eight, when the tin pan, rain on steel rhythm accompanies some increasingly sci-fi laser drones that shoot right out, emitting toward some sun without a glance back. Real spaced stuff here that serves the noggin well if it's incorporating the proper ingredients. Baugh's control of the material is clear too, as he really lets each little part evolve all on its own, some heading toward the trees, others dipping deeper into the oceanic bowel systems, and some skipping the life step and turning right into pure energy with its eye on the quasars. As the whole thing pitters out, it sorta lets slip each part at a time, leaving the skeleton but getting rid of the muscle so all you have left is this odd space of hollowed out activity that you can still bend; it just can't do it willingly anymore. Has to lay there limp instead until someone else comes and gives it a bend. By the finale the thing's disintegrating between your thumbs, dust-to-dust, but man what a journey.

Second track is a little more neon, even nearly dancey, with little statements of melody below ping pong ball rolls and reversed plate clatters. Sort of gentle-ish before it slips into pure sound zones for a stretch, weighing still while the blade gets closer. Might as well be the sounds of some Rube Goldberg machine in motion, spewing out Seussian sludge till the nimblequacks emerge to sing their songs of peace. Short and sweet, but again, it sure is sweet.