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Seth Kasselman – Anteroom in Birch

3.19.21 by Matty McPherson

Yes, Warm Climates continues to remain a finished project post their 2013 Sun Ark cassette. Although, main songwriter, Seth Kasselman, has continued to channel Warm Climates’ stoned frivilosity in his own approach to future music endeavors. Kasselman may not hang out on his blogger like he used to — he’s digging up lost sounds every first Saturday of the month at 10PM PST on Nett Nett radio — while his UR Sound label drops is the occasional homespun goody. Last December though, he logged back on with Anteroom in Birch, a web of four electronic synth pieces crossed with tape hissed music concrete. 

You might be thinking that 4 pieces is enough to figure every trick that Kasselman has up his sleeve; it’s still quite tricky to pin down, as each track brims with an amalgamation of ideas that are ever-shifting; don’t expect one track to hold itself together for ya! Side A’s two tracks “Degrees Of Used To” and “Are Lemming”, both feature cavernous drum arenas that are mystical and foreboding, and Kasselman mends both soundscapes up to climb towards the heavens. For the former, it means leading into a blistering synth drone, while for the latter, it continues to build an angular and playful dash of electronic bleeping n’ blooping. 

Track one of side b is where things go haywire. Worlds collapse and rebuild like sandpaper for the first half of “Roadmaster Stitches”. Yet, just when it all seems that the tape is about to explode and disentangle from the deck, Kasslman arrives at a plane of clarity…on what sounds like an unstable 32 KBps connection. Of course, it continues to build like a spire, rumbling until it bursts! That sound of an unstable connection encompasses the last track “Centipede Cathedral”, which sounds like the aftermath of watching a spire go kablammo–or web page after web page of pop up crunchfire. Expect this time, it finally reaches a semblance of genuine peace. For the last several minutes, the track floats on the water, without a care in the world.

Edition of 50 available here

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Jet Jaguar – Quiet (1999-2019) & Dan Melchior – Odes

3.3.21 by MattyMcPherson

You might remember Cudighi Records stopping by Tabs Out half a year ago to talk shop on a handful of their releases. A sampler platter if you will. Anyways, the label is hustling strong. You may have noticed “German House Muzik” dropped Bandcamp Friday, February edition. Although, I’ve been returning to a couple of ambient tapes released last fall on the label: Quiet (1999-2019) and Odes. If you have been looking for reflective zones to wander through, I implore you to follow!

Jet Jaguar – Quiet (1999-2019)

The Jet Jaguar (Michael Upton) catalog is intimate already, encompassing CDrs and personal Bandcamp sketches; of course though, twenty years is a lot to parse through. Yet, this close focus, emphasizing on how electronic dance “has been getting quieter over the years” offers a terrific gateway into Upton’s sonic universe. In between choice cuts and new mixes of old Bandcamp tracks, Upton revels in the changing relationship with his music upon this retrospect. 

The electronic guru’s compilation centers around his most blissed out vibes: sparse loops and aqua tinged synths, with the occasional fickle string or vocal element coming in. It is a minimal template, although deviously easy to find yourself lost in. Those new mixes of old Bandcamp tracks subtly subdue the pulses of the bass (n’ sometimes drums!), letting vaporous keys move to the front and hold the sound steady. As Upton settles on the right snare or maraca, the elastic qualities of this ambience fills the sonic space like a streetlight. Bits of radio chatter provide a bit of urban psychedelia in the mix, but these tracks sound like the last vestige of a drug comedown; they are absolutely chill, I promise. For those nights when you really want to reach for hushed spaces, Quiet will take you there.

Dan Melchior – Odes

Dan Melchior dedicated Odes in the memory of his late wife (and Ruby Falls vocalist/guitarist), Letha Rodman, who passed back in 2014. While Melchior’s garage rock and guitar work has been all over numerous underground labels, opening track “Louisiana Honeymoon” tips the scales. Downtempo, meditative zones that slowly unravel with Melchior adding small mesmerizing flourishes; it is a vivid sketch of what once was, but has been lost.

Recorded as if it was made under candlelight, Odes is stripped down to the bare essentials and feels like it was torn from a sonic journal. With just a “partially working 4 track… and karaoke machine that had very good reverb,” Melchior has fantastic control of this fragmented sonic space. Sometimes he summons vicious bolts of guitar noise on the track “Jaguar Girl” or stretches out how many hypnotic inklings can fit into the world of “Night Song.” Either way, these songs feel featherweight and I was left moved by the emotions of these pieces. They are truly intimate prayers; best experienced at the end of the day, when you can soak in the ebb and flow of these patient compositions.

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Good Willsmith – HausLive 2: Good Willsmith at Sleeping Village, 4​/​25​/​2019

3.1.21 by Matty McPherson

A HausLive entry beyond the inaugural Sunwatchers Live at Cafe Mustache cassette has been long overdue–all things considered. Likewise, the same can be said to Good Willsmith! The brain terraforming trio of Doug Kaplan, Max Allison, and Natalie Chami have left a few breadcrumbs here and there beyond their 2016 release for Umor Rex. It was that release which acted as the culmination of their early cassettes, touchstones for what Hausu Mountain was to become. Thus, a “gen 1 bootleg” of their 4/25/2019 Sleeping Village concert is the perfect opportunity to return Good Willsmith to HausMo for the first time in over 5 years (!), check what they’ve been cooking up, and perhaps even welcome a newcomer like me into their cinematic universe.

Naysayers may complain that it’s a tad bit short with only 4 zones and a banter track (Tabs Out podcast soundboard, take notice). However, these are pristine on-the-spot-NO-OVERDUB sensations that further the band’s commitment to leaving no zone untouched. The free-flow of “Dolphin” goes between synthesizer squeals and a sick “Jerry Jam”; “Not Your Kids” sees Kaplan going into full bar rock mode, with a fantastic guitar wail taking center stage;  “The Burning Orphanage Sidequest” lurks and falls collapses in real time, like an actual side mission gone awry; “Third Eyebrow” is perhaps the most playful of them all, with funk riffs, electro-clash ambient, and drums that’d make you swear you actually put in the OST for the boss stage of an unreleased Rareware platformer! That it ends with the promise of Guerilla Toss as it reaches the leader tape only left me savoring more.

Ages ago, Doug & Max said this in an interview with a japanese blog:

I think the sound of Good Willsmith is very representative of what music we like to release on Hausu Mountain:

⭑ music performed live
⭑ based on noise and texture
⭑ diverse
⭑ hard to describe
⭑ changes in atmosphere and moves between different vibes very fast…
⭑ can be heavy, noisy, beautiful
⭑ combining electronics with non-electronic instruments
⭑ is improvised

Their HausLive 2 refreshes that template, with the most jam heavy badassery on HausMo in a hot sec. The ascendance of Good Willsmith is back, pushing towards territories unknown. And it may just have even given the HausLive series a possible modus operandus as a guide to the best improvs in Chicago. Well played, Good Willsmith! Best grab this before it disappears into the wild.

Edition of 100 available from wherever you acquire fine Hausu Mountain goods and services

Diana Duta & Julia E. Dyck – Wave Debris

2.4.21 by Matty McPherson

I may be late to the party, although I’d still like to declare that more tapes should be dabbling in areas of scientific study. Yes, we have perfected the 60s golden age aesthetics (via Jamie Zuerveza’s Astral Spirits tape art) and modular synthesizers run amok on almost any bandcamp baddie’s page. What I’m talking about are tapes that build off of 20th century scientific finds in manners that are as paranormal as they are sleek. Diana Duta & Julia E. Dyck’s Wave Debris embellishes this area of study across its two sides.

Both sides are dedicated to a live (25 minute) and studio (23 minute) rendition of an improvisation entitled Wave Debris. For this piece, Duta & Dyck tapped into English scientist Elizabeth Alexander’s research on “radio frequencies emitted during sunset”, adding their own “field recordings, feedback, and readings from Ron Silliman’s Sunset Debris”. While Alexander’s pioneering work in radio astrology dates back to World War 2, she shifted to geology in the years after. Her untimely death in 1958 has meant that few people have been acquainted with her research, despite it having provided a stable reference point for analyzing the stars.

It is fascinating to see Wave Debris utilize her work as a radiophonic framework in two dutiful directions. The live rendition (performed at sunset from a GDR watchtower) begins with a faint hum as a magnitude of field recordings begin to flood the space. The light ASMR qualities of the field recordings render the sonic space an amorphous shape. At times (especially early in the performance), Wave Debris feels like it is stretching to the heavens. Yet, as the piece continues, the introduction of an omnibus modular synth and the Sunset Debris readings hit a unique space–not quite close but not quite distant enough; a claustrophobic plane akin to Red Desert’s most lurching moments. It fades quietly like a candle succumbs to the winds at dusk.

The studio variant (also performed at the same time) is more vaporous and crackly. At times sounds dissolve just as soon as you begin to circle in on their qualities. Unlike the live version which captures the transcendence of a particular moment, the studio variant uses modular synthesizers to build up towards something greater. The faint hum of those sun radio waves may seem a little more linear, acting as a fabulous guide for your ears towards outer zones. In the last third, it begins to feel like a rainy day on the factory line; it’s a slow buildup that turns into a bulldozer that nearly consumes you full, before closing with a Sunset Debris reading that functions as a denouement; “Did you feel it? Did you find it? Did it fit the picture?” are a handful of the thoughts it leaves you with as it suddenly cuts to black.

It’s a shame that Wave Debris is currently sold out on the Crash Symbols page. No release from their 2020 catalog has quite enthralled me so vividly, while also acting as such as a wonderful guide to the way science intermingles with music in paranormal circumstances. The spectral qualities are far beyond any science  science fiction you’ll read this year, I can promise you that. So, here’s hoping they can strike up a reissue with even more Elizabeth Alexander stickers!

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Pet Peeves – Mild Fantasy Violence

1.27.21 by Matty McPherson

Post-Punk is in crisis!

Instead of improvising to find new exciting terrain, the kids have taken to deriving this sound to its “type beat” status. BLEH! Meanwhile, the seculars and science skeptics continue to cast doubts on the merits of Math Rock! As if this music actually involves calculators and computers and not a big brain! How can we move past these quandaries and do they perhaps involve a little TV-7 FV?! For Pet Peeves (aka Alex Maerbach and Joe Cavaliere), the answer is a resounding YES.

Mild Fantasy Violence shipped in October’s 4 tape bundle on Personal Archives. One foot is steeped in the improvisations Personal Archives is known for; the “songs” are really just a holy trinity of amped up speedy fast guitar, thump-thump-thump drums, and spoken word interludes. It is high octane. Blind listens literally pull a wombo-combo–you’ll find yourself latching onto one of Maerbach’s wry, winding riggs as Cavaliere accelerates the drums to their breakpoints, before suddenly SNAP! “It’s gone”. Yet it always shifts right back into place, never failing to look forward, as you (the listener) stayed locked into its hypnotic pacing.

The tape has a wickedly amped up approach to punk, even as it likes to stretch out into the 7 minute mark. Sometimes, Cavaliere tries to throw in as many drum fills as he can, and the result is like finding the secret zone in a level and blasting all the baddies (“Bonus Area (Unlocked)”). Other times, both Maerbach and Cavaliere put on their best syncopated feet forward and see how long they can hold it together before it all falls to shambles (“Routine”). Whatever the case, there’s no shortage of noise nor excitement at where the tape leads.

The mending of those improv and punk spheres make the tape a rewarding left-field punk excursion if you have been waiting for a danceable punk that is trimmed of all the fat. Especially if you love an excessive amount of killer loops and mathy maneuvers across its 8 tracks.

Pro-dubbed cassette in an edition of 50! 

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