masteller

Reece Cox – Broca’s Talking Candle
9.5.17 by Ryan Masteller

“Broca’s Talking Candle” is a handy artifact in Final Fantasy IX that you can use while searching for lost treasure with your Chocobo… Wait, is that right? That’s not right. Sure, it SOUNDS like something straight out of FFIX, but “Broca’s Talking Candle” is actually a recording made by Reece Cox at an exhibition where he was surrounded by sculptures. And the resulting sounds were released on cassette tape on ARs Media. That’s why you’re reading about it right here! It’s a tape, not a magic candle! I’m such an idiot.

Broca – there’s a lot to unpack here, but Broca’s Area is “responsible for the formulation of verbal communication,” and it is there that Phineas Gage got himself impaled with a railroad spike sometime in the year of our Lord 1848. He didn’t die, but the accident resulted in “Broca’s aphasia,” a condition whereby sufferers “can comprehend incoming verbal communication but cannot formulate verbal language themselves.” Yowza! So basically, if I applied this to myself, it would be like me listening to Reece Cox’s “Broca’s Talking Candle” and not being able to write anything coherent about it, or at all. (Sort of like what’s happening right now.) But wait, there’s more! The sculptures that Reece Cox was surrounded by at the exhibition, held at the MAW Gallery, 56 Henry St. SE, New York, NY, in the summer of sixteen, reflect the disorder. I wasn’t there, you guys – I can’t account for any of it. I’ll buy into it though.

Cox sure captures the feeling of this condition, of sound entering and being understood but without the ability to reciprocate. There’s uncertainty, tension, even dread at not being able to understand Broca’s aphasia or, with understanding, bear it. “The compositions were arranged using midi mapping technology to create sequence structures from the human voice. Each composition uses the same sequence through different routings of a modular synthesiser [sic], mimicking the distortion of information processing that takes place during the cognition of a person suffering Broca’s aphasia.” (I don’t even know why the hell I’m bothering to write something new about this – ARs Media’s done it for me!) So the question is, then, is Reece Cox recording these sounds to tape so that listeners can get an idea of what this condition feels like, in sound form? Or is the intention that only those with Broca’s aphasia can truly grasp “Broca’s Magic Candle?” Only one way to find out – jam a crayon up my nostril as far as it goes and see what happens! (Please do not try this.)

ARs05 comes on gorgeous heavy cardstock, the whole thing like a sepia photograph. Buy it or else!

New Batch – Aural Canyon
8.31.17 by Ryan Masteller

Texas-based tape label Aural Canyon began life with the Benefit Compilation for Planned Parenthood, which, I mean, c’mon, at this point you either choose to help people or you’re out. Why would you not want everyone to have access to programs and services they need, regardless of what you think? I promise I’m not going to get all soapbox-y, so I’ll stop there, but kudos to Aural Canyon for the initial baby step in the right direction. Turns out that initial step pointed to an initial tape batch that’s also hell-bent on helping people of various configurations, so let’s give our attention to the REAL American heroes sloughing through the emotional muck instead of those abhorrent fatcats running the place.

I can’t say it enough – HELP PEOPLE. Whenever you can.

(Speaking of helping people – as Aural Canyon, and all artists involved in this batch, are Texas-based, we can’t help but consider those in need in the wake of Hurricane Harvey. Please visit the Red Cross page, or the page of your organization of choice, and lend a hand. They need all the assistance they can get.)

In huge, all-cap letters emblazoned across the label’s Bandcamp description you’ll find the following “mission statement,” I guess you’d call it: “DEEP AMBIENT / DRONE HAZING / SOUND BATHING.” I’d add to that “RECOVERY MUSIC,” and that’s not just because City of Dawn’s tape is called “Recovery II.” From what I gather, each of these tapes serves as a balm for its creator in some way, whether intentionally or not, and the “RECOVERY MUSIC” on each is an outward gift to listeners to use as their own therapeutic tool. So let’s heal ourselves with whatever can be found at the bottom of Aural Canyon, shall we?

 

CITY OF DAWN – RECOVERY II
Damien Duque of McAllen, Texas, records as City of Dawn, and “Recovery II” is his hymn to the autistic. Duque has autism himself, and over the years he’s used music as a release for the anxiety and depression that accompany the condition. But this, here, is a celebration; so celebrate life with autism, because, in the words of Duque himself, “Autism is not a disability, it’s a different ability! Autism is not a disease, so do not try to cure us. Please try to understand us.” It’s easy grab on to what City of Dawn is working with here, as guitars, synthesizers, and found sound function as a euphonic bed to rest on; you can join Duque in the euphoria and immerse yourself in and become part of this vision. It’s like Sigur Rós lite, if we only had the quiet moments without the occasional bombast. Recovery II is an unexpected treasure.

 

VISJØNER– SELF-TITLED
Minimal techno and IDM is the name of the game for euphoric clickmeister Robert Thompson, aka Visjøner (aka, in other circles, Mojave Triangles, Quartz Safari, and Paa Annandalli, depending on what day of the week it happens to be, probably), and you may find that I use a variation of “euphoria” for all four of these tapes. This one gets slapped with the tag because although it’s techno, and the beats are decidedly of the 4/4 variety (one could certainly crank the bass on this one to make an impression with their subwoofers on their tricked-out ride), the melodies and textures gleam like a galaxy swirling out into the cosmos. It’s the kind of music you can close your eyes to and just get transported, man, to a far-out, faraway place. Visjøner is the captain of your rocketship, and you can forget all your troubles, because your destination will have none of them – you can start over. Yeah, that’s a shiver of enthusiasm that just coursed through your body. Ride the wave.

 

TANNER GARZA & FUNERAL PARLOR – DARK DAYS
OK, so – Dark Days documents severe depression, and despite that heady topic, and the artists’ “unhealthy fascination with the macabre,” the tape is surprisingly accessible and welcoming. Melancholy, sure, but who/what isn’t these days? (See spittle-flinging rant above.) Garza and FP (aka Josh Doughty) swirl lovely synthesizers, gentle guitar, and sparse electronic rhythms together into a cloud of shoegaze-y ambient, all textures, all the time, “Better Daze under These Gray Skies” seemingly the centerpiece, the hopeful foretelling of, ahem, better days ahead. Till then the gloom envelops us, but we’re not alone – we are accompanied in our dull ache by the duo, and … is that a porn sample? It is a porn sample, on “Neon Flesh.” Huh. And … not out of place, which is equally weird. I guess sex can be therapeutic too, or at least the idea of an intimate relationship can be applied as a spiritual balm. I think, anyway. I’ve moved on, blissed out by this thing, an experience I’d never expected something called Dark Days to initiate. Euphoric? Damn right.

 

ADAM PACIONE / DEREK ROGERS – SPLIT
And here we come to the part of the program where we are fully healed and sent on our way, out into the world to spread the good news and great joy of the warming glow of Aural Canyon’s warming glow. Adam Pacione, dear man, you’ve done it. Thirty gall-dang minutes of the most gorgeous ambient drift this side of the aurora borealis, EUPHORIA IN EXCELCIS DEO. “Midnight Summer” is the exact opposite of an endless bummer, a heavenly presence smack in the middle of a MASH unit, doling out benevolent miracle after benevolent miracle. Derek Rogers, with “Sun and Sky, Mirrored” parts 1 through 3 keeps wheeling in gurneys of the afflicted, and he and Adam keep tossing those gurneys aside as the afflicted emerge fully healed. It’s no wonder – each side of this split is an example of a master at work, total drones washing equally over body and mind: aural convalescence. Keep it coming, you magnificent bastards you.

 

Phew. Each gorgeous tape comes in an edition of 50. Get on it.

Ant’lrd – Cherubian
8.29.17 by Ryan Masteller

The Ant’lrd way is the way of continental drift, where masses slowly take form before stasis gives way movement, almost imperceptible at such a grand scale. I once likened Colin Blanton’s tunes to hurricane-sized atmospheric disturbances, visible from a great distance, slow-moving, but enormous and overwhelming. And even though “Cherubian” tackles the everyday – love, daydreams, houseplants, marimbas, “Zoned Hugs N’ Harmony” – it still manages to sound way bigger than maybe it is. Perhaps it’s because its sonics penetrate us like molecules to our most basic level, drifting in sunbeams and filling all space. It’s the fullness of this penetration that grants the music its size, as we perceive it as an unending part of everyday life. We should also remember to thank Odd Nosdam for his mastering work on this thing.

But Blanton’s the main attraction, the hero, neck deep in a buttload of releases but emerging to continue blazing his path of unparalleled ambient superiority. “Cherubian” is a fine addition to this collection, a pink masterpiece even (the tape is pink – wanna look at it some more?), loops and synths and samples moving through a vacuum before colliding and bursting into every color of the visible spectrum, maybe even some others. That’s what you want in an Ant’lrd release – an overwhelming multisensory experience – and “Cherubian” delivers as if it’s an entire heavenly host of its titular creatures descending upon humanity and proclaiming “Peace on Earth, good will toward men,” like good ol’ biblical doctor Luke. Or Linus! At any rate, it’s like I’m filled with some sort of light when I listen to it, and I’m huge, and I’m about to burst and become one with the universe – all this from a record containing a track called “Water the Houseplants”! Great trick, then, Mr. Blanton, for imbuing the everyday with such magic.

Moss Archive is a phenomenal label, and the hand-stamped edition of 100 is almost all gone!

Matt Wellins – Music for the Memphis Group
8.25.17 by Ryan Masteller

Matt Wellins is making it tough on us. Tough, that is, to separate audio from visual, sound from sight. And while I’m not suggesting it’s a bad thing – if you’ve read any review I’ve ever written, it’s more like I’m critiquing an aurora borealis or a fireworks display than a musical recording – I do want to make it very clear that to enjoy “Music For The Memphis Group” to its fullest, you’re going to have to do it while looking at something. Or, if you’re the type who likes to close their eyes and let their imagination run wild while they listen to records, go ahead, that’ll work too. Point is, what informs Wellins’s masterpiece the best is the data collected by your eyeballs, not your eardrums.

Obviously, if you’ve been paying attention to anything, this tape is a paean to the Memphis Group, a collective of Italian (and other) designers active from 1981 to 1987 who specialized in postmodern, Art Deco, Pop Art, and retrofuturistic furniture and other objects, often using plastic as a central material and utilizing bold (and multiple) colors. To apply the term ”kitsch” to this style is not far-fetched – a lot of it looks pretty crazy in hindsight, but it’s certainly finding itself in the midst of a resurgence, and if artistic expressions like those of Matt Wellins are the result, then this resurgence is welcome indeed. That’s not to say that Wellins’s music is “kitschy” – it’s too tightly controlled and forward-thinking to be saddled with such a mixed modifier – but it certainly evokes the style the Memphis Group was going for.

And there you have it – Wellins is a maestro of the MIDI, blasting through presets and arpeggios and samples and tones and moods that are as colorful, smooth, and engaging as they are angular and academic (the final seven tracks are all numbered “Studies” after all), calling to mind recent releases by artists like Nikmis and even the work of OM mainstay/co-administrator Giant Claw. Sure, the source of these sounds is as plastic as some of the Memphis Group’s pieces, but they’re just as imaginative and no less festive. See, where someone like James Ferraro uses his vast computerized library to tease out the darkness and the nihilism of manufacture and consumerism, Wellins injects his music with sheer joy, embracing the oddity and absurdity of color, shape, and texture and how it functions to jolt one’s senses out of stasis. He embraces the artistry behind it, understanding that things, physical items, can actually produce happiness if enough care goes into them and they hold an aesthetic appeal for a subset of consumers. That’s why it’s important to actually hold his tape in your hand – it has real weight, and the art by Mariano Pascual is the perfect accompaniment to the tunes within.

If postmodernism and retro chic are your thing, then Matt Wellins has the perfect soundtrack for you, and Orange Milk pretty much has all the perfect soundtracks for that in their catalog (among other things, obviously). Not only that, there are actual yodels on “Music For The Memphis Group!” You know you want to hear how that works. They’re on “Alaska.” Trust me, they’re glorious.

Cop Funeral – Part-Time Pay / Paid Vacation
8.24.17 by Ryan Masteller

Josh Tabbia’s reflection on abuse – abusive relationships, abusive power structures, abusive employment statuses – isn’t as harrowing or terrifying as I had supposed it might be, which is a surprise. Think about it – psychological torture is pretty explicit and terrible stuff, and regardless of intention or intensity level, it should be the stuff that fuels nightmares and induces panic attacks. I am fortunate to have relationships with people around me that are normal and human—they are decidedly not abusive. I hope Tabbia has found an exit.

And while it’s not “harrowing” or “terrifying,” it’s certainly unsettling, but Cop Funeral has some sort of grip on general listenability that eludes many noise artists. Now before you get all huffy on me, note that “listenability” is relative, and is actually barely a criterion – your listenability and my listenability and the Tabs Out Podcast nerds’ listenability are all personal characteristics, so leave us all alone. What I mean is, there’s more than just dense, harsh texture – Cop Funeral’s all over the place, lasering tones and layering waveforms so your ears don’t exactly know where to focus from one second to the next. It makes for a gratifying listen from start to finish

Unsettling, yes, and tense. The opening triptych, “Limited Benefits,” “Part-Time Pay,” and “My Boss Vapes in the Bathroom” are variations on the restrictions imposed upon us in our occupational environments, and Tabbia tackles each idea with a similar approach albeit with varying operational touches. Sirens of anxiety wail before they’re roped in by general, pulsing, low-end dread, which evolves to allow the coexistence of higher-register tones so that, while they’re not at peak freakout, they’re on the verge of it at any given moment. It’s good stuff, and if something was eating at me, I certainly wouldn’t want to listen to this. But “7-3-16” is a calming track of water sounds and distant birds, and “Paid Vacation” ends the EP with twelve minutes of minor-key dirge, scribble lines of concern entering in the middle before resolving back to the dirge. It’s like when you’re nearing the end of a holiday and you realize the work’s piled up on your desk for you to dig through on Monday. Fun! Or, not fun at all. This is supposed to be vacation, dammit! “Coping and healing,” according to Tabbia, but still scarred.

“Part-Time Pay / Paid Vacation” is available from 1980 Records, and is currently in stock! Get busy getting busy.