The Torrey Pines are sick around the neighborhood. There’s a tree bug that’s going around and will undoubtedly lead to a lot of tree trimming this year. No one to my knowledge seems alarmed by the browning and pilfering piles of pine needles amassing around us. Our trees are fortunately cared for in this time of crisis, but that doesn’t mean one won’t fall or a branch won’t suddenly impact the disc golf hole we set up in the barren orchard (Tabs Out West Coast HQ is perpetually stricken by drought). Public displays of grief over the friendly giants as well seems to be at a trickle; this sucks because it causes a nine-car alarm in my mind that I can’t shake. Change is coming and I’m not privy to it.
It’s why I take my silent grieving towards a tape as private as Little Prince Sigrid’s My Ghost’s Boundaries Are My Horizon, the latest dispatch from the venerable Katuktu Collective. LPS may not be a tape enthusiast household name currently, but her C40 could render her one such. Her six song tape is a compilation of droney organ noises, bolstered up by a sparse astral drum here or ambient horn or wind instrumental beamed in from another dimension there. She sings and contemplates over these instrumentals in a fashion akin to a lullaby. Everything feels made for contemplating and finding your way to a smile.
Sometimes that makes for tracks like “Milky Weather” or “Cloudy and Opaque”, which stretches her droney, harmonic delivery into a tangible hand stretching itself out towards you. Yet, those are the short ends of a tape that opens with a ten-minute mantra entitled “Grief Lessons” and includes a ten-minute sparse, “Untitled” exploration. It’s a leap of faith that could glue you to your headphones and have you humming and harmonizing to that drone and Little Prince Sigrid’s earnest “come on” spirit. If the previous tracks were a hand, this is a full on arm. “Untitled” meanwhile shimmers as a mediation, reminding me of the immediacy of those darn trees…
First edition of 50 copies, 25 on red glitter shells and 25 on blue/green glitter shells at the Katuktu Collective Bandcamp
There may be no other trio that quite embellishes the synthesizer like the Bitchin Bajas (seriously, take a look at that list – posted below for posterity). Cooper, Rob, and Daniel haven’t exactly been MIA since Bajas Fresh, their 2017 release that studiously tinkered and refined the sound until it unfurled into the crispest of loops. They make solo albums on Astral Spirits, go fill in for Tirzah at p4kfest, and sometimes get to hang out and craft pop ditties with Haley Fohr or handle production (scary stuff) for Bill Nace. They still love a good tape release, whether that’s through the research & development of a CUTS self-release or returning to Drag City with this here Switched On Ra.
Whether or not Switched On Ra is a stealth response aimed at rectifying Barack Obama’s failure to put Sunwatchers’ own Sun Ra tribute (Ptah, The El Daoud) on his 2019 playlist may be too hard to call. In fact, it might just be more a continuation of Bajas Fresh’s own Sun Ra tribute, Angels and Demons at Play, which reimagined the fickle, jazz piece as a steamy jungle odyssey; an arrangement true to the spirit of its source as much as the Bajas own lineage. Plus, you have the reference to Wendy Carlos’ own analog synthesizer wondries, so there’s a lot we need to consider here. Also, it was all recorded on “8-track ½” [tape] @ 15 IPS across June of 2021,” in case you are a nerd and love to know just how the lads do it.
Yet, with all of this as a possible MO in mind, Switched On Ra still has that immediacy of an old pal. It’s at once warm, jubilant Bajas, just with a level of macroscopic tingly majesty dedicated to these Sun Ra compositions; it’s specially electroshocked at times! As a result, expect less classic Bajas looping, with more an emphasis on odyssey-oriented listening imbued. Where this sound is going is maybe still towards giant vast cosmos–or potentially a land of interlocking, gravity-ambivalent spiral staircases that function like a jungle gym. The anomalous sounds that each Sun Ra tribute provides here is its own zonal bazaar and good golly. I just want to be there harmonizing in a vocoder with ‘em. In fact, as I clank this out, I suppose I’m kinda entranced watching the left and right levels on the hi-fi trying to force myself there. You should try that too.
Tapes available at the Bitchin Bajas Bandcamp Page. A portion of the proceeds for Switched On Ra will be donated to The Prison + Neighborhood Arts/Education Project.
