Mark Bradley - Absolution (Basses Frequences CD-R)

Here's another platter for your brain matter, but only if you feel like squishing it to ooze and letting it have a looksy around the premises from the floor. Mark sent me this one a little bit ago, and it's been a delayed delight, especially what with the incoming chill and overextended thrill associated with teaching in the winter. Perfect stuff for elimination of all things detrimental.

Mark's hardly a newcomer though, as he's been popping stuff out for a while on labels like Reverb Worship, Blackest Rainbow and the way-back reviewed Existential Cloth stuff. Which means this is a tried and true tactic, and little could be thought of as trieder or truer than Bradley's laser beam ambiance. With crystal clear precision, Bradley let's it all slip in and out of focus with little regard for the fuzzy affect so often opted for in the scene. Instead you just get shifting planes of lunar lines, lunges of transparent diamonds that reflect so much light that they vanish as quickly as their image gets back to your eye. Split between four tracks, each as iridescent as the next, the whole album virtually melts upon touch. From the shards of "Evolving" to the gentle treatment of vibrato on "Harmonium," the whole work feels far more about the space you're sitting in than the sounds effect. Just let it spill on over and have a go at some manna. It's all for the taking.

The longest work here is the third offering, "Unison," which shimmies around some vacuous nexus like magnetic quarks lured in to inter-dimensional portals. Long and slow, the thing hardly lies still--it just stills the mind while it switches modes with glorious acuity. In the 5th dimension, these pieces are downright quick. Just slows down in translation. "Absolute" closes in satellite managerial moves, blipping and shredding its way out of the steel and into the black. More in line with the Old New Age than the New one, this stuff rests squarely on its blankets of sound--I dare say it's downright cozy in there too. Killer tin package on this one as well.

Dylan Ettinger - Fruit Bats (Curious Lacunae CS)

Just in from Foxy Digitalis:

Proving to be one of the more consistent offerers in the tropically-minded vein of experimental sounds, Dylan Ettinger has broadened his output from his own El Tule label to recent releases from the likes of Not Not Fun and this one, on Curious Lacunae. Meshing his palm-tree aesthetic with a crude, tape mashing sensibility, Ettinger's sound is considerably woozier than many of his contemporaries, reading more like the post-margarita memory of some chopped up circus night in old Cancun.

A lot of the stuff on this tape is actually quite subtle considering its clear overall angle. Small sounds and miniature transmissions are frequently hushed and stoic, writhing like jellies on the sand. Daytime comes, bringing with it the parasols and pina coladas, but at night the moon's glow still gets the crabs out for their crustacean cuisines. It's these moments that are best too, floating in the same waters as Dolphins into the Future and Ferraro without sounding too deeply rooted in it. If Ferraro's in Long Beach, Ettinger might be in some secret Canadian bay where tiny whales sing effortless lullabies. It's nice stuff, and careful at that.

The carnival always returns though, steel drums clanging away in riotous revelry. But the underlying interest is in the little things, the blurts of sound coming from beyond the waves. Ettinger's willing to let it all speak for itself in that way, presenting a scene and examining it one piece at a time. Yet the squids are always of greatest interest, and Ettinger seems more than eager to let them fill the vast majority of the tape. Without the contrast of sounds these synthesizer drifts wouldn't hold the same weight, true, but it's nice to see him work where he knows his strengths are. A carefully done release that exhibits further growth from this up-and-comer. Nice.

Waterside Gala - Composure & Recreation (Roll Over Rover CS)

Here's another go that I'm sure people are psyched for. And if not, well, your problem I guess. Cause ROR's back with new offerings and that's cause for celebration in my book for sure. Figured I'd open the batch up with this one though, as it represents a new project from some familiar faces, and isn't it always nice to see your buds in a different light? Whole new deal. Waterside Gala is actually the duo of living room lunar king Sean McCann and Kellen Shipley, whose previous release was reviewed quite favorably over here for a bunch of legitimate reasons.

Civilized cover, no? Well, partially. The people look pleased enough, but where are their faces? And why's the water so splotchy? What's in there anyway? Finding McCann and Shipley meeting each other somewhere between Bennie Maupin (or Chick Corea, if the reference is better), Leroy Jenkins and La Monte Young, the sounds speak to that more or less on the opening "Scotch & Soda." One too many cocktails deep at the Society Ball, I suppose. Beautiful bowed moves on the opening alongside lone sax lines and synth sprawl. Very strange and restive stuff that moves toward an earned passivity by side's end. Action without reaction can only go so long before nap time, you know? The important thing is it speaks for itself while it can.

Flip side features "Guest of Honor," a considerably more crotchety go that sees the crowd getting sloppy and sounds getting floppy. Overlapping horn lines and thick bows attempt arranging themselves over junkyard searches. What are they looking for? Haven't the foggiest. But the sound's coming from somewhere. Real nice loopings that never get caught up in their own mess, instead presenting and slipping out, each giving their compatriots time to have a say. Real nice stuff that sits pretty where it is instead of flipping over itself time and again. Summer's over, November's here. Don't let the soporific chill get you down. Sleep on, Gala, the season is upon us. And don't get your head stuck in the water wheel while you're down. Short tape, small run. But (of course) nice stuff from a considerably excellent batch.

51717 - Sch (Gel CS)

Sequestered in my abode due to borderline dire health circumstances, but luckily healthy enough to take a minute to catch up on some long neglected merch that's been coming through. Wanted to start with this one, which I actually lay down the dollars for, but I haven't really heard much hype surrounding this label and I think it deserves some. Gel's run by former Racoo-oo-oon member Daren Ho, whose solo output as Driphouse has gotten some fond criticism, but everything else on the label seems like it's been largely ignored which has got to--GOT TO, I say--stop. From the production of these things--transparencies with print--to the sounds, the label's put out some monster stuff already.

This one is a real mystery from a band with a numeric name. Don't know anything about the unit other than the presentation here, but it's a real solid go of it. Stripped back high end oscillator stuff it sounds like, but real drifting and lilting--far removed from American Tapes high end pummel. Just little drippings and smatterings of elevated pinpoints on F.Y.P.P., which sounds like some beautiful and lush pop track if everything but the most frozen tones were stripped away and left for dead. "Trust Track" has a similar effect, ultra minimal cymbal smatterings over some dual chord synth and wordless mermaid wallowings. Anybody seen that newish Werner Herzog flick "Encounters at the End of the World." Good flick, but a lot of this stuff reminds me of the ultra haunting undersea seal screes that the scientists listen to, seemingly for hours, heads pressed into the ice in some proto-primitive ritual of Zen archaeology. Hey, how bout that?--thar she blows! "Like Pink Floyd or something..." Hmmm, I think not. But the frozen tundra idea is alive and well here, as is the isolated foreignness. Good god.

Flip side's got more offerings, including part two of the aforementioned "Trust Track," which is less bare but equally there. They seem pretty relentless in their refusal to build beyond skeleton structures here, and it's a fine resistance. Not much else is needed. And again, gotta go back to the fact these guys are largely working in a preconceived form--there's an element of new age fetishism here to be sure, but it's so controlled and weird that it changes things up to keep it mere ice crystals in the wind. Chilly in the way that heats my hearth slow and steady style. Even gets into some sawed off singer stuff, like some little girl's voice drifting into the netherworld as a saw's taken to her torso. Grim? Sure, but it's all air at the end of the day I suppose. Almost reminds me of Peaking Lights without the glow, or Pocahaunted with snow. Slow go bro. Whoa. And dig the drum machine weirdness on "Sma," bra. Special mention too of the art--the transparent element and black and clear color mode really fit the bill here in a way that goes beyond the tape "looking like" the music. All builds on itself for a super package. As with all of it really, so have a have.

Expo 70 - Corridors to Infinity (Sonic Meditations CS)

From Foxy Digitalis:

Expo 70 is, by now, a fairly well regarded name in the world of kosmiche/drone world, and truth be told the hype is well earned. Few have explored the outer space ways in recent years with such consistency and direction as Justin Wright. This hour long tape, presents two side long tracks, remarkably recorded in the same day. With this much time to work with, Wright and his compatriots are able to stretch out, in and over each other in the name of some truly zoned excursions.

The first side belongs to “Meetings of the Lunar Bridge,” a duet between Wright, on guitar and drum machine, and McKinley Jones' Moog. The results are fantastically rich, and far fuller than most would assume was possible between such a limited instrumental lineup. Opening with a punch, the side soon slips into a meditative drift aided by Wright's loping pulse, which enters and dissolves at will while the two veer around, peaking first at this sun, then at that moon, and that quasar, and that nebulae. Hubble happenings to be sure.

The flip side, “Black Pyramids Under the Martian Sun,” adds Matt Hill's organ to the mix, which fills the sound out even more. The trio's smart though, knowing full well the freedom this allows. Rather than lifting off together they fade in gently, playing little and merging textures as they trod towards their soupy abyss. A beautiful side and release overall, with stellar artwork to boot.

Padna - Siberia/Hinterland (Stunned Records CS)

Here's another treasure trove uncovered on the remote beaches of Stunned. Padna, who as far as I know hasn't ever released a thing on this or any planet, emerges out of the grove fully formed and truly unique here. The solo moniker of Nat Hawks, who also works in the swell group Christian Science Minotaur (whose release on Peasant Magik earlier this year was a big winner in my book), this situation is one of stripped down and subtle play that nestles inside the funny bone and tickles till it hurts.

The almost hour long excursion is split into two side long works, which are in part broken down further. Siberia, the opening offering, takes the chilly countenance of its title and turns it on its head, presenting the blustery winds of its locales tundras, but also revealing its hidden gnome dwellings and elven passings. Electronic bloops emerge like pointed red hats, tiny and faint among the blizzard, a lone passerby riding a snow fox and whistling as he does so. There's a definite combination of feels going on here, with a heavy Tomutonttu vibe but less crazed and acid-drenched. Think Tomutonttu played by some loner electro-buzzer whose trying to play a "joyful" tune, but can only muster moves of slight lucidity. Eventually the dude gives up and heads face first into the glaciers, finding dense and ancient smoke under the ice. Some golem's thrill nest no doubt. Light to dark, sure, but the feel is remarkably consistent.

The flip side takes us to Hinterland, whose opening strums find an oasis of beach beauties bathing on some far off peninsula. Quickly come to find the peninsula isn't so much a land mass as the tail of some gigantic sandy ocean roamer, and you the mere passenger, so as said beast decides nap time's over your in for the ride. Much briefer cuts here, as if you're getting a repertoire of the world's offerings one stop at a time. Only you only get the pit stops--travel time is frighteningly forgotten. So instead, here's a chorus of jellies, wrapping around each other while the light glistens, merging them into one. And over there's a whale leaping towards the some festering sea gull, who taunts the leviathan with its jeweled amulet. "Metronorth," (yes, the bits are individually titled) doesn't so much recall the commuter line as it does the tracks, rust covered stretches of steel that rumble in communication at night. Between the opening number, "CCCP," "Tapewars," "Metronorth," "Norbit," "Funnystoned," "Newpaltz (For Mother 33)" and the closing "They Shut Off Our Gas," you actually have, more or less, an eerily similar trajectory of my mid-Hudson valley college career. Played tapes, took Metronorth, saw "Norbit," "Funnystoned," girlfriend lives in New Paltz, and boy did they ever shut off our gas. Weird, though I suppose that's a similar scenario for many a Hudson wanderer. Great stuff, lively and always in motion. A real voice, and one who I'm sure will get a bevy of offers post this. Maybe Tomentosa? Find it whether you're a fan of Sick Llama or Es alike.

DNT Sale

Yo folks. Likely going to get a review or two in later today but first wanted to clue people in to a pretty great sale going on over at DNT. Tynan just had his place ripped off, so he could use the dollars, and the prices are pretty unbeatable on some totally worthwhile stuff. Check it here:

Sun Araw (feat. Matthew Lessner) - In Orbit (Stunned Records CS)

Okie doke, back on task here after a rough weekend of student break-ins and cranial breakdowns, but here I be and off we go. New batch of Stunned material arrived on my doorstep a few days back and it's another head spinner to be sure. Figured I'd start with the most well known of the offerings, a point indicated by the increased print run (222 copies) and near immediate selling out. Sun Araw's been making a bit of a splash in the last year it seems, and good for him. This is more than another lad resting easy on the tropical bandwagon. It's a cog in the wheel itself, whose veins run far deeper than mere easy-living vibes--look no further than the yesteryear offering of The Phynx for proof.

While that disc had a kind of acid kraut feel to it, Cameron Stallones has veered into balmier waters since, but not without losing his sense of controlled cajoling into mental pockets hitherto left cool. And maybe for good reason. The first cut, "Luther," has all the slowed down, 60s psych sneer of a band like the Seeds, just stripped back and numbed into submission. As if they've acknowledged that the only freedom is of the mind, so kick back and enjoy the journey. No attitude, no sexuality, no condemnation. Only solo flights to lunar landscapes. Float on maestro, float on. And while you're doing it, blast some of that hot air in my direction, will ya?

Major achievement of this stuff is how little it takes to make it all happen, and how patient and slight the general arch is. Smooth as a balloon, the thing practically reflects light off it, a big sphere of sound that moves forward like a boat drifting in a tidal pool. It might get somewhere, but that's not necessarily any different, or more significant than its original locale. Till it all turns klippity-kloppy for a hot minute after having pulled up on dry land for some cosmically inclined fire pit ritualism.

Flip side rights it into a jolly good romp on "That Geosynchronous Feeling," which bounces about in a droning, yodeling, joyful glide that avoids some of the proto-primitive tendencies of a lot of stuff that works with the same materials without taking it there completely. Instead these dudes just ride the wave from beginning to end, that vibrato guitar surfing along atop a constant pulse and cascaded vocals while some organ drone just hums around behind. Great sound, and probably my favorite thing of his since Beach Head. But maybe I'm biased--the beachier the better in my book. Especially as the cold stretches it's icy fingers my way. Burr?? Stallones says nay.

Black Eagle Child - Two Days (Black Eagle Child CS)

Was looking around for a couple of Stunned tapes that I haven't gotten to yet from a ways back when I remembered that my sister stole my car for the week, and they've been holed up in there for cruising for a time now so they'll have to wait till the weekend I suppose. Thought I'd put in a word on the new batch though, which is of course already almost gone but hey, better late than never. It looks killer as always.

Of course good things come to those who leave tapes in their car, and I had to hit up the review pile for new options which reminded me of this beauty from Michael Jantz and his rightfully respected doings as Black Eagle Child. I had gotten in touch with Michael about doing a Wet Merchants release and he was nice enough to throw a couple releases my way, so here be one. According to Michael these two sides were each recorded in one take over Two Days close to his daughter's birth. Just a delay and acoustic guitar, the sides are simple and elegant excursions into repetitive and lush beauty, at once minimal and rich. Totally of the earth stuff that glides out from the speakers like honey over wax. Terry Riley's guitar counterpart, only with a softer melodicism. If this were released in '68 people would have been dropping and rolling around to this for sure but avast, we be in the new millennium now, so it'll have to happen alone between me and the headphones.

It seems arbitrary, but the fact that Michael was a new father when he recorded this makes a lot of sense. It's soothing stuff, almost lullaby-esque in its apparent ease of movement, but also contemplative and thoughtful. Especially the second side breathes in an open air, fresh as dew manner that's neither pointed skyward nor internal. Very content in itself. Beautiful little package too, with dainty flower cloth and felt cradling the red tape close. It's so cheerful it's almost cute. Though cute is far too belittling for sounds this complete. Lovely, and available a number of places if I recall.

Lifetones - Quivering Mass (Holy Cheever Church Records CS)

A lot of folks've probably been wondering what happened to ye old Ear-Conditioned Nightmare of late, and rightly so. Been straight bogged down for weeks now, and anytime I get a moment I have to take it for the noggin rather than the bloggin. Not to mention a new acquisition, namely this old 82 soviet synth which is oh-so-scrumptious and pleasing to knobify. But fear not, the blog ain't dead and it won't be so long as I have something to say about it. Which gets me to the point I suppose. The review.

Truth be told I've been playing this tape so much lately it hardly feels new anymore. And in the grand scheme of Holy Cheever it actually isn't, as it's way back at catalog number 028 (up to 033 now, which by the way is a free download that'll only be up till the 20th of this month, so go get it quick at the new address--). Still though, it wasn't so long ago that I got this number in the mail, and it's a nuthouse. First off, it's over an hour long, which is lengthy by most any standard. But it's also a new group consisting of Matt Endahl and Riggs, with Endahl on Fender Rhodes and Riggs on the trust axe. Sounds like it has potential to be a real jam out right? Of course not. The thing is called Quivering Mass for chist's sake. Starts out in this low murmur rumble with high tones coming in and going in a totally mesmerized and totally zonked manner. And yes, I use the term zonked to describe a lot of stuff. But this is ZONKED. Like Sunn 0))) without the Sunn or the 0))), just hollow volumes beckoning the heat of noon. Really amazing stuff that slides out and into more weirdo territory right quick. Can't believe that's an electric piano going there... totally whacked sounds that are subtle and dry and fresh as fungus. Each little pocket they hit is a total vision, pittering life forms (man, tough to avoid the title of the work in the description ain't it?) just futzing about in the slime. Amazing.

Best part is there's an hour of it, so you can really commit to the vision. They hit some high points here and there, staying still and bouncing between one another, but the transitions are where it really gets kooky and fried. Come hither sounds of the future. The world is ready to unite. Like the soundtrack to the pre-post-2012 mindstate, and it's right as acid rain. Grab it, for my money it's one of the best things Cheever's done yet. Which of course is saying A LOT.