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3.4.22 by Matty McPherson

God bless the postal workers that have to put up with the label boss who shows up with an arm, leg, and nut’s worth of Luxury Elite cassettes for shipping. Any time the producer decides to log on and team up with a label for a new surprise, shit basically prints cash–as well as hundreds of postal labels (protip: use pirate ship). Naturally, if you blink you will miss the release; she’s been doing this for a decade and clearly has mastered what audience to court. This kind of MO is still running in vaporous circles as far as I know, and that Luxury Elite happens to have a quality control on the hype and her releases find themselves ending up on Crash Symbols (or in this case, Doom Trip), has tantalized me for a bit. It’s a sign of appreciation and trust, as well as a quality label/ethos endorsement. So naturally when blue eyeshadow popped on the feed only a dozen minutes after coming out I knew I’d be making a blind buy on my first luxury elite release.

Blue Eyeshadow finds us a decade into the project laying down mid-80s period synths, drum machines, and brass instruments looped into poptones with a kind of certainty parallel to what was afforded to Green Gartside. This took me out of my initial going-in projections; I had expected a more…glitched and vaped out vibe. Underneath the lushness there are moments as such scratching through the crevices, but it is first and foremost a piece of new golden instrumental dreams. It’s with that sonic language alone that the tape is able to succeed as a lovely pastiche–albeit one meta enough to practically become a perennial 80s pop tape that enacts its own Mandela effect; you know these songs by heart even if you have never heard them. 

Yet, what more is being conveyed underneath these tracks that lyrics cannot warrant?  Big sloppy dopamine rushing instrumentals can seem so one sided, but luxury elite swaggers in ways that perhaps suggests we’re bonded to these sounds and that they can articulate nuances that words might just really detract from. Abstracted and left to the listener, blue eyeshadow can at times be a touching treatise on romance in an abstracted, yet picturesque, aspiringly universal experience.  From the blushing “psychic bond” and sensual “afternoon swim” to the jaded late-day haze of “commercial break” and the crystalline meandering of “empty lobby”; there’s a canvas of images to navigate your own memories within. A well warranted excursion giving me much to think about.

Edition of 200 SOLD OUT at Doom Trip Records (maybe more will show up later? Who knows!)

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2.28.22 by Matty McPherson

It’s been alluded to consistently that both HQs of Tabs Out are asynchronous, lethargic monoliths. Really only the asynchronous aspect is of any inherent value or truth. May god forgive us for being akin to a message floating freely in a sealed, alcohol free Heineken bottle at the pace tapes are acknowledged. Often as a result of that though, the asynchronicity can spill over into an inkling of the lethargic quality when you see a post like this: one that confirms some soul (me, it’s me!) finally listened to a sold out tape from last year.

I’m bringing this up because it’s that month of the year where a bunch of eager beavers trade lists of around two dozen albums they’ve never heard and do 280 character reviews of each one per day. Am I suggesting this is a bad thing? Well I genuinely can’t fault people for wanting to explore music they don’t know. I suppose I feel that the potency of an exercise like this is mishandled when every list I have seen seems EXTREMELY not interested in looking through music coming out on private press tape labels. Should they be attuned to that in a time when people still cannot fathom music existing off of Spoofy? [sic: this is an intentional misspelling] Really, I suppose I’m just a little cranky by that lack of bonkers digging that has practically been a privilege for me. In all honesty, if you have the privilege to listen to a lot of music each day, as long as it’s not a chore, you should do it. Plus, you’re writing and if you do that for yourself another net gain.

As of the time I’m typing this, I’m still fresh in a late 2021 mail bag that is quickly providing a new sense of emotion and internal knowledge that I didn’t have a year back. Emotion in the sense that some shit just makes my blood boil and I have to eject;  you think I have government mandated break time for this? Internal knowledge in the sense that I have a greater sense of what I want when I’m hearing a tape and if it’s connecting. When both aspects combine, the result is likely along the lines of Matthew Ryals’ Voltage Scores.

I suppose I was craving Eurorack. Everyone on the posting website loves to contemplate, tease, quantify, qualify, etc the rack. What is it about this machine that scars all of you? Honestly, I imagine that in an alternate timeline, there’s a Spongebob episode where Squidward teaches him how to use a Eurorack instead of making a marble statue. However, if that existed then we likely wouldn’t have Ryals’ games of musical pinpoint hopscotch double jumps. Voltage Scores is full-blown cybernetic synth shocks and mirrors, unabashedly confident in the pleeping and plonking that it swaggers through. Supposedly, Ryals had been in a free jazz mindset crafting patches that were meant to be captured and improvised in real time. Voltage Scores alludes to this in the form of casually letting listeners in on what take Ryals has captured; most were within less than half a dozen times (and only Lost Connections appears to have been realized on the spot). 

Ryals’ conception of free jazz ethos on a Eurorack does not invoke sudden brass fantasies, just that sound can be as colorful and freewheeling as that era. Both sides brilliantly bounce between small splashes of downtempo clattering downtime that go toe to toe with jittery, bright dopamine-tinged synth bops.  A bonafide standout emphasizing the latter types of tracks is “anthem for socialism (take 9)”. Not only quippy in its title, Ryals’ locates a strangely airhorn-esque, puffy synthesizer that builds and builds and…eventually does become the music of its own self-sustaining utopia, even glitching out into the fray. The cohesion that both sides warrant as well deserves it’s praise, seamlessly hiding those edits where a track may have no longer been realized and keeping the energy up at all times. Tickling my need for bonkers sound and deft pop structure, Voltage Scores didn’t just emotionally grasp me where I like these things to meet. It  practically turned me into a cat with a laser pointer, which is what I suppose a viable Eurorack modus operandus could afford 🙂

C46 // Edition of 50 pro-dubbed tapes. Art & design by Gabriela Del Valle. Sold Out at Source

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2.24.22 by Matty McPherson

“I always happen to be like the inaugural or almost-inaugural release on these tape labels! I don’t know how it keeps happening.” I’m paraphrasing a snippet of a conversation from last time I had a chat with Patrick. It was in regards to the fact that a LOT of tapes that feature Patrick’s dabbling in free jazz have comically low catalog numbers (seriously, do the numbers). It’s a streak that’s more funny and coincidental than anything else, yet it continues with CAT 008 on Topo Press. The latest “low catalog number Patrick Shiroishi free jazz tape” is sometimes hot and swinging, always devious, and perhaps (most importantly,) a real exploration of the duality and tenacity of the sopranino saxophone.

A dueling sopranino saxophone tape isn’t the newest idea under the sun; of course, everyone knows that it’s about WHOEVER is on the bill. And Shiroishi being joined by Jeff Tobias is naturally a bloodbath massacre for the ages. Both are officially seasoned Astral Spirits veterans as much as poly-instrumentalists and their Los Angeles recording session is a premiere time for the two to just cut down to the current state of things and start landing JABS! Hell, the Shiroishi/Tobias sopranino effort doesn’t even open with a stretch break, warmup or round 1 bell. And that’s not a bug nor a feature, just a straightforward blessing! Straight layers of saxophone into sweltering noise not far removed from a cosmic modular synth place us en media res. The first track captures a tad of Shiroishi’s intensity from Oort Smog while Tobias, too, plays on offense. It’s a massive change of pace from Tobias summer effort on AS, no longer playing catchup, but actively countering Shiroishi or actually layering with him to lay down bona fide power combos. The second track is more spread for both players, less offensive and more towards the defense with each other in a friendly sparring manner, actually letting off small doses of playful notes.

So naturally, it all comes down to round 3, but by this point, Shiroishi and Tobias aren’t out for blood. They’ve swapped recording rooms and in the smallest of spaces, they’ve gone nimble with the ambient and textured sounds they can wield on their sopraninos. Pushing for a reserved form of cooperation, it’s an abstracted account of shadowboxing if you will. Quixotic quips of vapors foreground the piece while the occasional, melodic gaggle finds its way to the surface. It doesn’t dance but for a mere few bars and yet the patience is measured, blipping and chipping as the two improvisers find a shared communique to relay. 

If you’ve continued to be in search of a more varied and loose “this is what we’re feeling RIGHT NOW” tape of two A-level saxophonists, yeah this’ll tickle your fancy. Just don’t expect any winner to be crowned out of this dueling feature–twas was never the point! Although rumor has it “the pair intend to record a follow-up sometime in the year of our Lord two thousand and twenty-two…”

Edition of 50 available at the Topo Press Webstore Page; Streaming on Bandcamp

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2.16.22 by Matty McPherson

I recently upgraded to an Xbox One, putting me only about 8 years behind the current swing of things. My issue is that I refuse to actually use the console for any bloody games; I’ve chosen to cite the “screen configuration” as my primary issue, but I think I’ve just simply moved past wanting to go dive off the deep end with a game. Also, the dishwasher nearly burned the house down and so I need to play “Dishcleaner Adventurer” for the foreseeable future.

I do like that game a lot though, as it leaves room for a tape. Although I find myself wanting to revive the old Oblivian lady elf again with the couple of spins Un1ty Flute has received. Maybe you heard of Hundred Waters and have enjoyed their music from a halcyon era ago. Well, this is frontwoman Nicole Miglis, in a deceptively distanced space of music. Her batry pwr project is centered around one limitation: using electronic gear that runs on batteries in remote places. Except Un1ty Flute didn’t quite come out like that – it’s a sudden spur-of-the-moment kind of recording that Leaving Records graciously has brought to us.

As a C30 goes, it leans into proof-of-concept territory. Side A’s title track purposely tries to pull you down to the swamps of Florida, recontextualizing it as a majestic airy land. In its own way, it reminds me of both the aforementioned Oblivion soundtrack, while also sneakily integrating field recordings and wistful sounds that could have come out of a rare Environments tape (for my money, it’s the one in a Country Stream). At first, I didn’t quite believe this was real, nor that actually this genuinely had THAT potent of a utilitarian function here. It’s not a piece of music that can just be summoned, but only felt out to its terminal end. Side B, simply titled ii, is much more in a contemporary sphere. Miglis has DJ’d and soundtracks her days, and this side of the tape errs more towards the “battery powered” electronic aspect that could return in a future from here. It all gravitates around a simple piano loop and an ethereal vocal. Two pieces come to mind: early Ana Roxanne and Jessica Pratt’s Opening Night intro from her 2019 album. Likewise, once I actually found myself in the rhythm, I was a little dismayed. I still had a mountain of dishes to go and no more ii to take in!

Edition of 250 from Leaving Records.

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2.14.22 by Jacob DeRaadt

I had no knowledge of this project before being sent “ANIMAL” by the label, Orb Tapes. The seven tracks are divided into “Scenes,” somehow that really appeals to me, not labeling things songs but rather a glimpse into a world.  

Right out of the gate, “The Hunt In the Woods” has a lo-fi industrial dirge that has me hypnotized, slowly dissolving into crackling whispers of broken electronic pulsations, like wires short circuiting in sewer water. There’s lots of space for the dissolving sounds to interact, some call and response with the juxtaposed textures. Each track has its own distinct flow and tonality rather than one long continuous jam session, something I can appreciate as a listener. The element that unites all of the pieces sonically is the slow, steady percussion underpinning each “scene.”

Later on there’s gently rustling detritus paired with simple digital rhythms and bowed instruments. None of the compositions overstay their welcome.  Some of them border on the cinematic, which might be a dirty word for some but is welcome to these ears. I look forward to hearing more from this project!

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2.8.22 by Matty McPherson

In 2019, Full Spectrum Records released Infinite Futures, a mongo two tape compilation that acted less as an excursion of how far the label had come and more of a forward thinking look at where sonically everyone on the compilation was headed. It only takes about ten minutes before you end up at the claire rousay / more eaze piece that acts as a nifty summation of where the two were sonically in 2019 (spoilers: it’s neato ambient). It’s tempting to state that it feels archaic compared to where they are now; after all, the women move swiftly enough to have opened the year with a guitar pop ditty that could have been set for a 7” on Run for Cover. Yet, returning to that FS Piece, I’m surprised by how much it still parallels their current present moment. The synths are still a dead-ringer, just as much as the plethora of noises; although perhaps most notably is that the track really entrances listeners by its own being as a liminal, momentary piece of sound that just sucks you in! This is a fancy way of saying that it is a conversation first and foremost.

2020 saw the two’s collaborations continually teasing an ASMR-tinged, emo-frizzle fried notion of “pop music”, perhaps most explicitly set forth on “kyle.” That track does appear (in basically the same form) on their C30 Orange Milk level, album level statement, Never Stop Texting Me. Visually it’s on brand (and another good leap for Seth Graham’s current graphic design emphasizing beastly, omnibus cryptid critters). Sonically… it’s thirty minutes of major key synths, bubbly bass beats, ambient dirges, and beguiling collaborations. More or less, this is their tweets, amongst other digital ephemera being beamed into a consensus online sound of this moment. Somehow through it all, it is rather face-to-face; able to both kiss off with flair while bringing in a lyrical camaraderie and sincerity that references each other, their pets, their woes, the day that comes after Bandcamp Friday Eve. Naturally, that translates to a most personalized sonic listen that couldn’t be less afraid by the prospect of having a conversation with its listener first and foremost.

Perhaps that comes from the fact that both took a “where I end and you begin” MO to the formation of tracks. Both claire and mari have their own wheelhouse of points that one can sketch out and the other can seamlessly fill in; it’s not so much that there are sudden left turns as much as the two genuinely have a musical level of chemistry that even all the Mario Baseball characters are jealous of. For Never Stop Texting, auto-tune vocal fries (harmonizing!) & bright, symphonic synths (with zany effects for days) dominate the foreground of this sound first and foremost. Paired with a reverent level of lived-in pop-punk recollections catching those sketches, it colors them into actual pop songs. Yet, it’s not all a pop-punk album using the chorus breaks for soaring epiphanies. Afterall, there are still tracks like “camille” or “missed” that linger in abstract spaces, reveling in the found sonic crevices of a conversation of what’s going on one room over. 

Naturally though, the preservation of that open-ended, sauntering conversation within a Pop level statement makes for such a noteworthy, unique Orange Milk catalog release. The label has released comparable sonic titles akin to this, like Recovery Girl’s 2020 tape. Yet even while there are parallels, both are ultimately delineated by different sonic and metaphysical MOs that reveal themselves to different listeners. I see 2010s club and PC music as a prime directive of the kick-punch fury of Recovery Girl; whereas with never stop texting me, I see a timeline from which deep listening strategies AND P.O.D.’s Youth of the Nation and Puddle of Mudd’s Blurry (amongst the Billboard Modern Rock no.1’s of 2000-2007) might just be considered sacred texts. Chisel away at the latter hard enough until they shine (not whine) while bringing in the latest in laptop music innovation, and never stop texting me might just be a prodigal renovation and re-calibration of what once may have seemed a stylistic void state into a crystalline summation of the present. Conversations like this album leave you waiting for the next buzz.

Cassette Available at the Orange Milk Bandcamp Page

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