Tabs Out

10.13.20 by Matty McPherson

Sans Irréalité is a new tape label based out of Baltimore, Maryland with intentions to release “interesting electronic musics, tellurian and interstellar.” Their inaugural release, Meshes of Exotopic Escape, from Baltimore stalwart, Gram Hummell, nicely fit in all three boxes (and not just because it was released on 4/20). Hummell is able to traverse eclectic territory without giving a damn nor forgetting to better the collective vocabulary prowess of the Tabs Out community!

Take the opener of Side A “Telesm for Three Voices”. I’ve no idea what a telesm was until I spent ten minutes on dictionary sites to discover that it’s a talisman-huge score! The track opens with fridge buzz static waves, as if my boombox was having trouble playing, before being hijacked by someone that states, “I’m going to attempt and communicate with you telepathically”-and it’s none other than top dollar vocal synth, Microsoft Sam! Hummell (through MS Sam) discusses dystopia in meager 2019 words and ideas, before letting everything disintegrate into harsh noise…and then rebuilding itself with vocal samples turned dance a la The Field. Part-brainwave, static transmission, and post-field recording glitch synth bath, the expansive ground covered on “Telesm” is traversed with featherweight precision. Nothing ever feels out of place or poorly contrived, it just moves at the pace of Hummell’s brain.

Side B’s “Interlude/Korybantic Dolphin Dance/Heka.dylib/Dog Solitude/KDD-2” might be a string of five tracks or a genuine attempt to simulate the struggle of this aquatic techno lifer in under 15 minutes. Either way, close listens show how Hummell can traverse genres like its freeform lsd tv, no problem. Interlude may be quick, but through Korybantic Dolphin Dance (hey another word!), the track enacts an elliptical patch of head scratching pulse shimmers, xylophones, and hi-hats. You could make a dance vid or sacrifice to a (lowercase) god this part, real easy. Either way, it sets the tone for the back half’s pull to the womb. With a synth that recalls Pacific State and a callback to the Korybantic Dolphin Dance part of the track, Hummell lights up the dance floor, if only momentarily before a droney disintegration pulls the track to the finish.

The nature of this tape, which can descend from harsh noise to synth euphoria like you just fell down a trap door, have made it an excellent relisten. Perhaps it is perfect for your 1 person 2020 dystopia dance party in your roommate’s closet even! Get hip.

Top audio quality imprinted azure cassette with four-panel artwork. Edition of 50.

10.12.20 by Matty McPherson

I assure you that Cranky Bow is not trying to rob you of any pleasure during the “Blue Ball Session”, an unnamed two part odyssey from the twisted mind of Gábor Kovács. His reputation over the last decade has been a steady one, transitioning from one alias to another moniker without ever stopping a consistent output of abstract and devious technological music-for European labels of course! 

“Blue Ball Session” sees Kovács going one step further with the Cranky Bow moniker, introducing elements of library music while keeping things in a delicate lo-fi balance. Part 1-perhaps better known as “There’s ‘Hell’ in Hello, But More in ‘Goodbye’”, opens with a “Goodbye!” that last 400 times as long as an Irish goodbye, with the faint pulse of what is akin to train wheels on the tracks. As it traverses away past the salutation, it becomes apparent that you, dear listener, have arrived at a resting place. A light synth welcomes you to a burial ritual in the graveyard of broken dreams. As it mutates and welcomes in odd percussive elements, the track still never loses its simplicity or desolation. The spaciousness provided by the track is indeed perfect for that room clean or when you need to find your dead wife in a small American suburb.

Part 2, also known as, “Cranky Bow is murdering the Hannah Barbera sound effects library!” is much more playful with the samples and noises that appear. No longer are you in the graveyard, but in the haunted train track (with a light piano playing) and…“is that the sound of an energy charge or spring loaded trap going off?”-I don’t know either, but it keeps the haunted train track piano going until suddenly the track introduces a warped library sample of horns, organ, and tip-toe indebted percussives. It’d fit like a glove in the hands of Jules Dassin, perfect not just for those noir soundscapes, but the tension offered from the heist. For the track’s back half, the tension seamlessly builds with the percussives and horns becoming less tethered to typical sound structures, popping in and out like it is death by a thousand cuts. As it ends with a vocal sample of a man speaking, probably sitting at a jazz lounge contemplating the things only a man can do, for the first time during the tape, you feel safe.

Library music is still a genre I rarely interact with across these cassettes. Understandably so, this is music made for the cheapest of cheap seat shows or the b-movie. Yet, seeing Kovács’ ability to squeeze it for the tension while stripping these samples of their temporality has kept me coming back. Talk about  “Goodbye!”

From Vadlovak Records