Tabs Out

Channelers – Entrance to the Next
12.3.18 by Ryan Masteller

It’s not always a good idea to walk through unknown doors.

No, Laura Palmer, don’t go through the door in the picture on your wall that Mrs. Tremond gave you in “Fire Walk with Me”!

Well, we all know how that turned out. That was probably a door best left alone.

The door on the cover of Channelers’ excellent new tape-release-equivalent-of-a-blazing-peace-pipe is much more inviting, much less scary, and certainly infinitely more colorful. It’s a door you WANT to go through. The other side of the doorway is blue, and there’s a glowing golden orb hovering to meet you. What’s scary about a hovering glowing golden orb?

Nothing.

Sean Conrad’s been doing his Channelers thing (and his Ashan thing, and his Orra thing, and probably other things) for quite some time now, releasing most of his wares through his own Inner Islands imprint. He’s absolutely perfected the art of meditative sonic companionship, popping release after release out into the world like his tape deck is giving birth heavenly cherubs. His music is perfect for several things, among them “grounding,” “finding center,” “celebrating the natural world,” and “working with the incorporeal.” What that all means, basically, is that he provides soundtracks for finding yourself within your own head and your own heart. These are benevolent intentions.

Unlike anything that happens in “Fire Walk with Me,” pretty much.

Still, “Entrance to the Next” continues his tradition, with music that is “thoroughly embedded in the practice and process of improvisation.” Conrad speaks of “surrender” and letting the mind and physical manipulation of whatever instrument he’s playing become one, creating secret pathways to peace and contentment that you can unlock with a Channelers tape. It’s a pretty simple process really – you pop the tape into a cassette player, press the play button, and then zone out for its duration, or even longer if you want to just let the thing repeat for a while.

Beautiful pastoral landscape soundtrackery for transitional mental states? Yes please!

la plimbare – l a p l i m b a r e
12.2.18 by Ryan Masteller

Mostly you get the sea – that’s not surprising given the recording process and locale of la plimbare’s debut, re-released on cassette via London’s ACR. That’s because Romanian artist Diana Voinea, aka la plimbare, compiled her field recordings “in the town of Constanta, Romania – on the shore of the Black Sea.” Surely the vast expanse of water, dense with its own weight and pressure, glistening in the midday sun, would make its presence felt on something so indebted to it in its creation. If that Jcard artwork is any indication – and it is – Voinea was equally enthralled by, awed by, immersed in, and vastly removed from the location of her fieldwork.

You can even imagine the sound of seagulls squawking at points, flying over beachgoers, shitting on umbrellas, eating discarded sandwiches, and generally being a supreme nuisance.

What’s great about “l a p l i m b a r e” is how effortlessly the sound sources are mixed with Voinea’s accoutrements, as she displays a light touch when compiling the tracks. The sounds of the ocean and the beach blend with the ambience of the town itself, at different parts of the day, in different weather conditions. Voinea’s able to complete the picture of her surroundings for us, presenting them as sound and letting our imaginations fill in the rest. There are even three remixes appended to the original release, as Rui P. Andrade, Nate Scheible, and Endurance basically mold the time and space presented by la plimbare to fit their own worldviews (to delightful results).

You can still grab one of the edition of 70 pro-dubbed C81 cassettes from ACR, but you better act fast: only 12 left as of this writing!