Tabs Out

Harold Turgis – The Sentinels

1.6.22 by Matty McPherson

I am sent an astronomical amount of things and I have to tip my hat to the individuals that brave import fees and customs checks to bring something to Tabs Out to have sent across the country for play in my Yamaha; you all are heroes in my eyes, people that truly believe that the right ears will get what you are doing. Anyone who reads this though should know, I’m not always the right ears, and that I come into 2023 with a chip on my shoulder and a belief there is more out there than I am often immediately able to give credit for.

In 2021, I did receive a tape from Harold Turgis, and let my biases get the better of me. Turgis is “members” of a post-punk band known as Hygine. An act that existed at both ends of the 2010s, early as an act pushing records out on La Vida Es Un Mus and Static Stock, and on the other end in 2019 emerging as on Upset! The Rhythm. In that time, a figure known as Pat Daintith emerged that provided keyboard and seemed to be doing something of their own under this Harold Turgis nominer. Harold, I know at the time I was undervaluing your Satellite: 1997-2021 compilation. The fact that the Quietus decided to cover The Sentinels release already warranted a “hmm, I should probably see if I got that in the mail” from me sort of confirmed that I’d been a big dingus here. Turgis has been staunchly off the books when it comes to social media–sans using Twitter dot com to express a fascination and affinity for modernist architecture. But neither the Satellite comp nor “the Sentinels” wasn’t pressed on brutalist grey or modernist carbon or what not. He used a half red, half black shell, and his cuts of ambient synth charging and drum experimentation that sorta teetered a weird unclassifiable realm.

Side A’s tracks were edited all as one piece and side B itself is just a long form. But it does pay off. Side A is able to metamorpihize through almost-industrial experiments and video game interlude music that seems too cunning for its own good. And it is! Especially as it coalesces into The Sentinels (West) and The Shining Pyramid, where it feels a little gurgle-laden and aquatic, as much as sandpaper laden and splashy. It makes for a gripping seventeen minutes. Although, the journey of Xeethra seems to warrant the tape itself. Picture yourself on a train coming back from the new year’s festivities and passing through a series of crossing and unregulated stops. The kinds where ghastly aberrations and misnomers seem to haunt and almost pierce the veiled windows. All while the gentle lulling and loops of the train’s systems continue on schedule. That’s what side B sounds like, and if you learn to conquer your demons (via going downstairs to the cabin car for a 22oz bomber), you’ll actually find that you can get quite a lot of work done; especially as it lulls and bobs into a stable reference motion. The kind of reference point that seems to play out in reverse and lull you into a breathing routine and blissful out of body state. It’s a morose loop at first I’ll credit that, but it’s stability and near-trancey qualities it gives off as it pushes down into a blissful state warrant me genuinely curious as to what this Harold Turgis figure is all about.

Limited Edition Tape Available from the Harold Turgis/Noble Lowndes Annuities Bandcamp

Ethan W.L. – The Pink House

1.5.22 by Matty McPherson

It’s early January and new things are afloat everywhere. We turn our attention to Seattle, WA, headquarters of the esteemed Drongo Tapes operation setting up for their 47th release and 1st of the 2023 season. What’s this? They’re asking us to turn our attention to the Green Mountain State, Vermont, for a selection and smattering of selections from a film entitled the Inventor Crazybrains and the Girl Called Bird, aka “The Pink House?” Color me intrigued, Drongo, color me intrigued.

Ethan W.L. is a sizable portion of “the big nest” recording project, although Ethan set out for Vermont in 2021 to help film and compose a score for an independent feature. And lo and behold, he brings a series of riches and “film appropriate” American primitive guitar finger picking back not just for the silver screen, but for our own home listening. No such thing exists in the big nest catalog, partially because Ethan really had not pivoted with such devotion into playing acoustic guitar. The acoustic was acquired last year at a thrift shop, and that which became a catalyst for a series of sonic explorations deeper into folk, bluegrass, and blues music that the big nest catalog has yet to feature.

The Pink House does have function as the film soundtrack it was composed for; in particular humongous pieces like Bird that seemed designed for room tone droning and Nora’s House, which has rustle and bustle, is reminiscent of the ambient dread that Marble Hornets had tapped into over a decade back. As well as his first two pieces, “I Will Rise” and “The Pink House” that amply build off Traditional Melodies, while checking the boxes of someone creating motif-oriented, thematic musics. “Ompompanoosuc” is a piano piece that lets its notes often breath and reverberate as a balance from the guitar, while also serving to highlight an emotionally broad moment. Yet, the decision to provide these pieces, especially in their placement, gives Ethan’s exploration more resonance. It feels as much a document of personal discovery and tribulation to a tradition that found him, begets over an hour of jams and fingerpicking that could become your own winter delight. And therein lies what makes this sudden shocker of a release, only seven days into the year mind you, such a delight.

The few big nest-esque moments come near the end, and leading to them is a humongous trove of stunners. And without traditional percussive, Ethan’s ability to pull tenacious thumps out of the guitar give each track robustly rudimentary pace and melody. character that savors long after the campfire. The harmonic razor-fingery loops of “Mad River Lament” present one such dance. Meanwhile, rustic blues that peek through the chords of “Appalachian Gap”. The yearning, steadfast run of “Indian Love Call” that paces itself in adding small surprises and a tempo kick that feels of it is detailing a small tumble. The process is often similar between the cuts, but the change in tuning and reference points give a flair.

Perhaps it’s best documented and captured on White River Rag’s. The dilatory pacing harkens to a sweet spot between High Aura’d’s works for Unifactor and Astral Editions, as much as the blues traditions that 75 Dollar Bill can be tethered to. The tracks incorporates a spectral drone that hits akin to a low winter sun coming through beams in the house, before finding a galloping pace that giddies-up with finesse. It still drops out of a shock, coming back in more ragged glory during its finale. And there, I’m left more curious than ever as to when the big nest is incorporating acoustic guitar into its field of vision.

Edition of 75 available at Drongo Tapes’ Bandcamp