masteller

espécie de fé – I. a fé que vence
6.12.18 by Ryan Masteller

I’m going to be honest with you: OTA could release hours of endless tape of the sound of wind barely blowing, and I’d still be all over their cassettes if they looked like this. Once again, each of these cassettes, released in a batch of thirty, contains on its cover a thirtieth of an overarching piece of art that, when viewed as a whole, is stunning. There it is, right up there at the top of the page – the whole thing. Flávia Cassiano, responsible for that lovely acrylic and pencil drawing, should be proud of the result. Each one of these tapes, even with a fraction of a greater whole representing it, is a work of art in itself.

But (at least some of) you probably don’t buy a cassette tape just for the artwork, so it’s worth noting that listening to espécie de fé (“kind of faith) as he/she/they unfurl what are essentially two sidelong 24-minute sonic tapestries is just as much a treat as it is to peruse the cover of “I. a fé que vence” (“I. the faith that wins”). Slathering a vast array of vocal samples all over a variety of sound sources, espécie de fé attains a kind of enchanted transformation as the voices lose their connections to human mouths and become ominous and/or absurd instrumental elements. It’s a good thing that I don’t understand the language(s) being spoken, or else some of the magic might be lost upon these monolingual ears with the comprehension of words. What results instead is a dreamlike trance, mystical revelations revealed over the passage of time. Either that or I’ve been subliminally compromised for evil. In fact, here is my debit card number and PIN, my master…

Remember, there are only thirty of these, so hit up OTA now before these beauts are gone…

The New Me – A Beach to Walk Upon
6.8.18 by Ryan Masteller

“Behold, the new me…”

Your pie face radiates misty introspection as you wander the sandy strip of coast, the waves eroding the shore ever so slowly as you contemplate the day that they reach so far inland that evacuations become necessary. Several self-improvement false starts later, and the only thing that makes any sense is the chilly sea, the heavy gray clouds, the mist and salt blowing in the breeze. The taxi you hired several sleepless days ago, and to whose caffeine-jittered driver you are paying a small fortune to for his services (no idea why you don’t just rent a car at this point), waits just beyond the dunes. The belief that “you’ll actually feel better” repeats as if on an endless tape loop in your head, and you still believe it, even though you’re hungry and tired and the gulls are obviously whispering about you among themselves as they rest there on the beach. That sandpiper just flipped you off with a toe.

Mind blank as a fart save for the weird loops that your life has become, your footsteps begin to echo in your ears, which is pretty impossible because you’re walking on the beach. Halting, you stoop to the ground and grasp handfuls of sand and broken shells and seaweed, stuffing the material in your pockets and going back for more. “This – this is the new me,” you determine, your new sand life substitute a richer, fuller experience than anything that’s come before. Your brain tracks like a warbled synthesizer run through a broken reel-to-reel, and you wonder if you can see the taxi from the top of the dune over there. Maybe you can also see the Iberian Peninsula – you MUST be on the same latitude, if your internal compass is to be believed. But, given the state of The New Me, the old me version 8.12 or thereabouts, it would be surprising if you can see your fingers in front of your face anymore. Well, there is a bit of fog. That probably rules out Spain and Portugal.

“Keep off the gott-damned dunes!” a mustachioed gentleman bellows from beside the dinghy he’s repairing. Or is he a pistachioed griddlepen? Words are meaningless now.

Herds are greening test plows, and you can Gorilla Glue your face to this webpage for cassette buying adventures. Irrational Tentent?! I thought it was a mirage!

Deterritory – Invisible Migrations
6.6.18 by Ryan Masteller

They called it “Deterritory” for a reason, because the borders broke down. Luis Gonzalez, aka Lavas Magmas, aka Deterritory, busted em right up, sent in the wrecking balls, disarmed the militias. “Invisible Migrations” was the result, a heart-pounding, pulse-racing sound document of hidden transit, of crossing lines of demarcation that had previously been “off limits.” People unite, ideas are shared, growth and evolution occurs. “But Ryan,” you ask, “is this whole thing gonna be some social commentary on toxic nationalism and runaway capitalistic tendencies? And if so, can I stop reading?” Oh, you, reader; not even a little, and of course not. But you’d better be prepared for this new cold war, one against the poor and the immigrant.

Deterritory is READY. He’s got his chilly synthesizer rig, his 808s and 909s (OK, whatever drum programs he’s using, I’m no expert), his probably angular haircut. Maybe not the haircut, but still! “Invisible Migrations” is a throwback to the eighties club days when the former punkers found some electronic gear and birthed the genre so eloquently and appropriately referred to as “Post Punk,” capitalized here for maximum resistance against societal norms. But Deterritory fills in the rough edges of serrated darkwave with absolutely mesmerizing psychedelic krautrock passages in the middle of this tape – in fact, the two tracks that make up the creamy center of the 4-track album comprise like a whole two-thirds of the thing. I want them to last forever.

Make the whole tape last forever for yourself (or at least until you ruin it after leaving it in your cutoff jeans pocket during one of your infrequent laundromat trips) by purchasing a copy at Lavas Magmas’s Bandcamp page. You can root around the Hideous Seed Blogspot too, but good luck trying to buy anything there. Hope those border crossings work out OK for you!

New Batch – Astral Spirits
6.4.18 by Ryan Masteller

Nate Cross at Astral Spirits is like J. K. Simmons’s malevolent “Fletcher” in the super rad film “Whiplash,” the Svengali behind all the great current jazz acts. I bet he gets all slappy with his drummers and stuff too, and with all that tape cash coming in, he can afford to force-manufacture his own “Bird” without the threat of consequence. You gotta break some eggs to make an omelet, am I right? A jazz omelet.

I’m just kidding — I bet Nate is a superb individual and a gentle soul. Still, those piles of cash are pretty tall.

Now that we’ve established with facts and figures and charts and graphs [*image missing*] that the Austin-based label is a jazz behemoth along the lines of Blue Note (and in almost every way has surpassed those clowns), let’s see what they have for us this June, shall we? (No, Mike Haley, I DON’T want to listen to your Wayne Shorter and Mingus bootlegs. GAWD, for like the thousandth time!)

 

ANDREW BARKER & DANIEL CARTER – POLYHEDRON
Andrew Barker did NOT sling a cymbal at Daniel Carter’s head during the recording of “Polyhedron,” that I can almost 100% assure you even without any research. But these two guys, whose playing days go back farther than I can even imagine (and I can imagine pretty big numbers), do us, the listeners, one better by slinging IDEAS back and forth at one another, batting them around the studio with masterful complexity and lithe reflex like pro tennis players (let’s say Pete Sampras and Rod Laver). Nobody gets hurt in this process. In the end we’ve got four fantastic odes to musicians whose careers cast shadows over Barker and Carter, inspiring them and subconsciously guiding them: Roy Campbell, Sabir Mateen, William Parker, and Charles Waters. Barker and Carter have a kind of mind meld going on here, like Spock did to McCoy as he was dying in “Wrath of Khan,” but way more pleasurable in this instance, like they’re sharing conscious thought rather than personal history (although there’s probably some of that too). The result is an ebb and flow of sax, clarinet, trumpet and flute against drums, a push and pull as the duo explores the space they’re creating, alternately expansive and claustrophobic, but always fully forward in momentum. In sum, this is how you do the duo record the right way.

 

MOCKUNAS / MAZURKIEWICZ / BERRE – LIVE IN WARSAW
Liudas Mockunas (clarinet, soprano and tenor sax), Jacek Mazurkiewicz (contrabass, electronics), and Hakon Berre (drums) show us how jazz is done Eastern European style on “Live in Warsaw,” a percolating cauldron of activity that constantly shifts and morphs with the mood of the players, of the room. Because yes, this is a live document, and thus it’s a snapshot in time, a relic of sounds in the air combined into a whole. The trio is workmanlike, exploring the ground they cover like archaeologists, but they’re also philosophical, allowing for the “spirit to move them,” as it were. By the time side B’s “Rzeka” builds to its towering climax, we tape listeners are fully envious of those who caught the crew live at Mózg in Warsaw on October 18, 2015. I guess, if we allow “Live in Warsaw” to fully overcome us, we can say that we were a part of it in some capacity, psychically maybe – we can beam our good vibes of this event to others and plant extrasensory suggestions in them to buy this tape. And the other three here too, for that matter.

 

LUKE STEWART – WORKS FOR UPRIGHT BASS AND AMPLIFIER
Luke Stewart has been “performing various portions of [‘Works for Upright Bass and Amplifier’] at art exhibitions throughout 2017.” I’m wondering, with the intense frequencies he emanates with the titular upright amplifier, whether he’s invited back to said art exhibitions once he’s played them. I can imagine the curators, sweating profusely and checking their watches as Stewart’s churning rumble shakes priceless vases and vibrates the most artistic Picassos in their frames, the tones undulating through the floor and walls like an earthquake on the San Andreas Fault. But Stewart doesn’t care – he wants it all to come crashing down into a mesmerizing debris pile, the greatest works of art repurposed into fragments humming with energy. That’s what “Works for Upright Bass and Amplifier” will do for you at home as well – “Play loud!” says the label, and watch your priceless heirlooms crumble to dust in the face of sheer bass power. The experience is totally “off the chain,” like Guy Fieri says.

 

JOHN MCCOWEN – 4 CHAIRS IN 3 DIMENSIONS
Sigh… what do I do with this? How do I comprehend the dimensionality of chairs? And at what point does a chair warrant consideration beyond the capacity for human understanding anyway? I am mad befuddled, a condition not helped by all the clarinet-masquerading-as-a-synthesizer drone ol’ John McCowen, aka He Who Put Me in This State. That’s right, McCowen approaches his instrument of choice here as if it were a Doepfer A-100 Analog Modular System (or, I dunno, a MiniKorg – I gotta admit, I’m not real knowledgable). Performing live drones as if he wanted to upset the very elements of terrestrial existence with their vibrational qualities, McCowen dreams of chairs existing in volatile states, not quite here, not quite there, certainly not perceivable with even the most cutting-edge scientific equipment. He gets under your skin with these drones, upsetting your thought process. … Oh, “FOUR Chairs in THREE Dimensions”? I thought it was the other way around. I feel so foolish!

New Batch – Plaża Zachodnia
6.1.18 by Ryn Masteller

So, what, do we in America think we’re the global leaders in experimental music too? That’s it, I’ve had enough. All this foolishness has got to stop. Music, as we’ve seen, is a global endeavor, and it only highlights the connections we have to one another, the similarities we display in response to external stimuli. Case in point: Poland has just as vibrant a music community as the United States, maybe even more so, judging from the brazen display of Polish label Plaża Zachodnia’s Bandcamp footprint. I’m just going to let them do the talking for a minute, because I’ll end up getting an American flag in my mouth or something and cock it all up. Here goes, no interruptions: “[Plaża Zachodnia is an] independent music label founded in 2015 focused on releasing modern Polish experimental and improvised music albums including genres from electronic through psychedelic rock to free jazz and noise.”

I did it, made it all the way the way through with my dignity intact.

These two wild, wacky tapes are firmly in “experimental and improvised music albums” focusing on found sound, object manipulation, and electronic output. While they might not exactly be Polish through and through, they are still proud examples of a wickedly vital scene, one that stretches internationally. So let’s all hop off our high horses and put aside national narratives and have a good time fiddling with our tape players until they play these two cassettes properly, OK? I’m serious, nerds, make those things work. You’ve got pretty much the only primer you’ll ever need right here.

 

JAZZNOIZE & MIGUEL A. GARCIA – SUVCLATTERS
Jazznoize has a real name, GAWD: Sergio Sanchez; and Miguel Garcia has a fake name, GAWD: Xedh. OK? Get past it. Together they’ve made “suvclatters,” a tape fully identified with both, whether pseudonyms are splashed across the j-card or not. And this is the outlier – these boys are from Spain. Still, their drones aren’t for the uninitiated, as the artists explore frequencies that aren’t easily tolerated by the untuned. From the moment “a schrecestign” emerges into longform gestation, growing with intensity as it bullies its way across your speaker system, warping and oscillating as it goes, you know you’re in for a deep dive. And Sergio and Miguel do not disappoint, ripping holes in space-time with their dynamic and devilish vibrations, from “neutrionn” to “slo emisioner” to “epidinitianiek.” Lots of descriptors are thrown around the press release for this tape, stuff like “intense,” “immersive,” “adventurous,” “etc.” (there’s probably an “etc.” tossed in there somewhere), so I barely have to do any work like consult the thesaurus on my phone. But don’t take my distinctly American short-cuttery for granted – check out “suvclatters” for yourself if you can muster the energy to get off your couch, you stoner.

 

EARTH UNIVERSAL – “CURTAINS OF SILENCE HUNG ABOUT THE THING”
If anyone was gonna make extraterrestrial contact, it was gonna be Earth Universal. And by “anyone,” I mean anyone between Earth Universal and Jazznoize and Miguel A. Garcia, mainly because of Earth Universal’s use of shortwave in their compositions. Sounds like deep-space transmissions. Which is cool. And if we’re going to get all Star Trek on you, all Asimov, all “Childhood’s End,” then we’re going to have to recognize that extraterrestrial contact is the thing that brings humanity together. Not climate change. Not Bitcoin. Not Trump. No, extraterrestrial contact, and that’s FINAL. So Earth Universal is basically speeding up the process, and we’re really, really grateful. Jeff Gburek and Hubert Wińczyk “[emit] various organic and electronic signals from the ground to the sky to represent the diversity of life forms here,” for the sole purpose of giving any non-Earth-originating beings an idea of what to expect. I’m telling you, I’m not joking: “Curtains of Silence Hung About the Thing” is a varied and vibrant paean to Earth life and communication, a fitting ode to whatever you run across or whatever you imagine. The horrific, the weird, the sublime – it’s all represented. And side B “contains tracks inspired by the RE_WOLTA theater performance, which is something that you’re going to have to look up in your spare time, because I’m not paid by Tabs Out. But for Earth Universal, this is a fantastic tape, and I recommend you have at it posthaste.