Pedestrian Deposit – The Architector
8.12.15 by Ian Franklin

For the 15 years Monorail Trespassing has been in operation they’ve released a staggering amount of music. To celebrate their 100th release they’ve delivered the newest offering from Pedestrian Deposit, the duo of Jonathan Borges and Shannon A. Kennedy. “The Architector” (C40) is two side-long tracks built off of material dating from February 2010 through December 2014 “recorded at lungmotor c.n., goose nest, and in the field”. Pedestrian Deposit give a bit of detail on their Facebook about the release stating, “The culmination of five years of obsessive work — fits and starts of ongoing perfectionism that spawned two solo projects and two additional records. Beginning with crude and unfamiliar source materials, each sound is examined from every possible angle, then taken apart and reconstructed along with the compositional process. From 2010 forward, each phase is represented; the past three U.S. tours have given clues, and these recordings offer more of the puzzle, but you will never get everything at once. To be experienced as foreground with no distractions. This begins a practice of self-containment and preservation from outside elements.” For the people familiar with their work already, this presents some very compelling information; but for those who aren’t, it barely hints at the intensely visceral and powerful noise ahead.

Reducing Pedestrian Deposit’s sound to a strictly “noise” signifier, however, would be a terrible disservice to the duo. Their pieces are for the most part composed, with a strict adherence to form, spatiality, dynamics, and timbre. Live performances often include elaborate rigging structures, suspending Kennedy in an array of pulleys, chains, and other pieces wielding contact mics in a seemingly dangerous but composed dance of sonic annihilation. Borges, keenly aware of dynamic minutia, switches from stoically composed to all out furious, extracting devastating feedback from the ether.

Side A’s “A Cold Harvest”, begins with brief flashes of metallic dread on top of a steady and rippling undercurrent of low-end oscillation. The overwhelming feeling is that of dread. The sounds morph into labored groans of synth with triggered splashes of feedback that never seem to spiral out from their control. Sharp stabs of synth build over distant electronic wails. The tension is haunting. Dancing around the edges of complete breakdown the duo builds an already unnerving sound to near hysteria before completely falling off to slow paced crawl of clicking feedback and sublime bowed cello.

“Shifted Snake” kicks of the B side with dexterous punches of harsh noise, silhouetted by almost imperceptible bed of fuzz. Glistening bubbles of synth boil over, melting into the layers of looping textured noise. Soft resonant tones float in and out of the structure. The noise eventually fades leaving only the resonance behind; a glowing orb of distant light rotating around you just beyond your arms reach that swells with a slow and steady speed before ultimately consuming you.

This is an extraordinary release from a titan in experimental music. It makes you painfully aware of the intricacies of awareness, beckoning you to give everything you have to the energy of the performance. “The Architector” is released in an edition of 100 and is still available from the Monorail Trespassing which means you should go get it.

Head Dress – Backwards
6.20.15 by Ian Franklin

Scooped out of the sedimentary blanket of worn earth lives “Backwards” from Head Dress released on Geology Records. Originally released on Distance Recordings in 2010, “Backwards” is getting a fresh treatment from Geology Recs. in an edition of 50; and this is good news for all of us because these 4 tracks of concentrated drone doom, running in the range of 7 to 17 minutes each, are superbly crafted slices of guitar ambiance.

Head Dress’ sense of pacing is exemplary whether using the cold, filtered sounds of modular synths as on “Warren” released last year on Phinery, or when using passages of slowly evolving reverberated guitar and distortion as he does here on “Backwards”. The melodic passages inch forward adding small pieces with every rotation growing into a massive force. Hair, the second track, builds with a slow and disorienting dread like the tide calmly rising up above your shoulders, creeping towards your neck. Reverberating wails of shimmering metallic guitar shine through and fade as pulsing heartbeats.

Slightly before the half way point of Fantasy comes the slow descent into distorted dust fields, though it never loses sight of the dancing melodic mirage within. The landscape is barren and mostly unforgiving, stripped of any unnecessary pretense. Feels like early Earth writing a score for a hard sci-fi flick where the dessert is the main character.

Backwards is pro-dubbed on chrome, features some killer acrylic based 2-sided color j-cards and clear shells with black imprinting. You know what to do… GRIP!

Tether – Some Shape
4.16.15 by Ian Franklin

Though it came out last year, this only showed up on my radar after a recent random search, and through that strange sense of destiny that defiantly creeps up now and again. I stumbled onto this beauty from Tether (Lauren Pakradooni) called “Some Shape” (C30) self released on her Normal Position label. A bouncing, repeating pattern of bass stabs stumbles forward punctuated by squiggly synth lines flying just overhead. Flickerings of stutter dance around within the growing structure. Higher pitched shimmers are slowly poured in. Soon, enough elements emerge that the structure takes actual shape, a bass drum stepping in to cement the backbone, tender vocals binding the muscles together.

Side B kicks off with “Infinite Joy”, a bouncing ball of a beat splattered with heavy shades of synth wash staggering around the edges. She capitalizes on the projected momentum letting loose with some Grace Slick-like vocals, swooping from above with ferocity. Tether works best in this loose frame of counterpointed percussive tape loop electronics, allowing herself to float in and out of whichever space may be available, casting distorted synths through the stained glass window and down onto the dancing tiles of ever drifting rhythms; their ultimate shapes remaining unclear. Supremely excellent mix of abstract synth pop, droning repetitions, and inwardly reflected synth iridescence.

Some Shape comes in an edition of 100 with risograph j cards and can still be gripped from Normal Position.

Fire Death – Circuit Of The Stars
3.21.15 by Ian Franklin

Blast through the cranial crevices of the mind’s galaxy and you’ll unearth this gleaming gem of shining brilliance. By another name, this gem is known as “Circuit of The Stars” the newest C30 tour tape from Fire Death. This Cleveland supergroup of Ben Osborne (Bass Clarinet, Tape Loops, Guitar), J. Guy Laughlin (Percussion), and Matthew Gallagher (Rot Ton Box, more on that later) play a refined and blistering form of free jazz with expert attention to shifting dynamics and a constant communicative interplay between performers. Whether throwing squealing walls of scorched clarinet and fractured electronics, to stripped down utterances of sound, Fire Death move as one cohesive unit.

Feeding off each other at every turn the group staggers forward, lunging at times into the beyond with fiery blasts of shrieks and dense clusters of hidden snare fills. Passages of staccato flares and bursts of oscillating howls fly around the galaxy and reflect of the mirrored walls. Acoustic tones blend into digital realms, moving freely between the dimensions. Furious and chaotic wails from the Rot Ton Box, a hybrid, no-input, conglomeration of “ancient useless” rack gear assembled over the years by Osborne and played expertly here by Gallagher, morphs in and around sections of upper register acrobatics from Osborne, the two melting and combining into pools of molten energy. Anchoring it all is the percussion of Laughlin who has an uncanny ability to put forth bursts of lightning fast fills into confined elements of chaos. Much of Fire Death’s power revolves around the struggle of tension and release, moving quickly from segments of sustained pause to blasts of unrestrained luminescence. The tension holds the structure and the performers dance around within, accentuating different elements of the whole.

Props to engineer James Kananen on the production, the sound quality is superb. Laughlin’s individually mic’ed drums and a well rounded sound to Osborne and Gallagher’s explorations really allows the interplay of the performers to be admired. In an edition of 100 with white shells you can grip a copy at one of Fire Death’s upcoming shows.

3.21.15 in Richmond, VA
3.22.15 in Washington, DC
3.23.15 in Baltimore, MD
3.25.15 in NYC
3.26.15 in New Haven
3.27.15 in Boston

Tranquility Tapes Winter Preview
1.28.15 by Ian Franklin

I know; Winter time sucks. It can be downright miserable. There’s approximately 14 minutes of sunlight remaining when you get out of work, the weatherman’s forecasting your imminent doom, and your socks are wet. Good lord, why are the socks wet all the time?! But look, Tranquility Tapes doesn’t give two hoots about all that biz. They’re all set to drop another batch featuring OLD SVRFERS, Witchbeam, and Quicksails goodies guaranteed to make you lose those winter blues. We’ve gotten the go ahead from Tranquility and are very pleased to premiere a video made by Glass House’s Eric Brannon for the batch. Feast your eyes and ears:

Well, I was lucky to peep some sounds from this batch so I thought I’d tease y’all a little more:

Awash with underlying currents of melancholic drone, oily rhythms, and deep sea exploration, OLD SVRFERS’, the duo of Josh Mason and Brad Rose, “Ain’t Scared of Shaka” (C41) floats through a maze of tasty sets and swells. This little beauty is a tried and true submersible with extensive battle tested capabilities, both Mason and Rose have had lengthy solo expeditions, but here the two forge a passage through dense formations of sequential zones, stretches of misty foggy lagoons, past all possible escape routes and down into the depths itself. Some of the stretches on this release are so absolutely magnificent. Wide open seas that extend infinitely with a cool breeze at your shoulders and a fading sunlight through the dotted white puffs of cloud vapor. You can close your eyes and they’ll still be there. But the ocean beneath you is large and there are many creatures just waiting for you to sink below. Bubbly acid rises from the volcanic floor and spreads a thick woozey dub across the whole ocean bed. Shadows play on the walls of reefs and capsized vessels; layers of crevasses never touched by sunlight. Twisting your way through streams of syncopated synth stanzas and pockets of warmer drift you’re carried upward, rushing to the surface in purposeful exhilaration to reach out and crash upon the stoney shore of a territory outside your own. Joyous, and dark, and turbulent, Ain’t Scared of Shaka is one to set your compass by.

On “Shadow Musik Vol. 2” (C30), master of ceremonies Witchbeam blasts through dubbed out synth frequencies and dense clusters of harsher rituals. Driving columns of bass drum echo through the cranial walls while supremely fuzzed bass crawls over the skin. The spacing and pace of the album are fantastic: Witchbeam uses alternating forms of dissonant drone and structured destruction to hypnotize the listener into altered states of awareness: hypnogogic trip metal for the masses. The synthesized tones on this release are so vibrant: whether plucky wooden tones, resonator oscillator drift, crunchy fuzz nugs, and everything in between. Witchbeam is a true craftsman at work.

Quicksails (Ben Billington) cuts a rug on “Spillage” (C34), using a bevy of digital obfuscations in rhythmic models while mixing in some exposed melodic yearnings. A multi-instrumentalist but a-lot-of-the-time drummer, Billington uses his knowledge to accentuate the ferocity of his rhythmic explorations: movements in mitochondrial samba, laterally twisting swashes of synthesized glisten, fragmented microtonal galaxies dancing in digital playgrounds. He slices perfectly the juxtaposition of ambient sections and sequenced patterns, alternating their emphasis and importance, atop a healthy dose of exploration with respect to composition. Taking playful melodic samples of acoustic piano and digital synth, Billington slides beautifully wrought passages into small spaces while then turning around and burying it under a mass of crackling dissonance and resonator bellows. So many zones to traverse on this but the journey is the reward.

All three releases are housed in the artwork of Caroline Teagle, as is customary for all Tranquility Tapes releases. Don’t sleep on these; Tranquility releases are of the highest quality and this might be the last batch for some time. They should be available reeeeally soon from. They might even be up now, have you looked?

Interview – Black Thread
1.22.15 by Ian Franklin

The following interview was conducted over email in October 2014 by Ian Franklin. It’s in the first issue of his zine, Undefined. You can purchase a copy here.

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For the past three years, San Francisco based tape loop master Greg Gorlen has been producing some of the most compelling melodic and ambient compositional work under the name Black Thread. With more than a dozen releases on his own Turmeric Magnitudes as well as releases for Tusco Embassy, Chaos of the Stars, and La Cohu; Black Thread has established himself as one of the premier players of tape manipulation in the ever growing field of experimental music.

 

How did the Black Thread project start?

It started out in December 2011 like most of my projects; band name first. It began rhythmically oriented. I did demos with turntables, drum machines, and trackers and played a show under the name based on a harsh noise pure data patch that completely failed before the performance.  A few months later when I stumbled on the idea of adapting Frippertronics-style two-head tape loops to cassettes, the name found its sound, so to speak.

It’s obviously the most melodic of all your projects, but in your own words how would you say Black Thread differs from your other projects under the Turmeric Magnitudes / Cascading Fragments umbrella?

Over the years I’ve done a few works under various names which are fairly melodic, but those releases were mostly one-time studies in a specific style rather than an ongoing, concerted effort to make melodic music. But  yeah, I think Black Thread as melodic tape loop music somewhere between drone/ambient and noise, or whatever those terms stand for. Also, there’s a certain feel to the project which is harder to describe in words… Maybe “existential”.

Many Black Thread releases feel like they are cut from one long narrative, or they’re each representative of a certain mood or feeling that is present from release to release. When I see there’s a new BT tape up, I feel like I have a general idea of what the mood is going to feel like. Would you say that’s an accurate assessment? If so, is this a conscious decision or one that occurs naturally?

When I played a radio show a few years ago, one of the hosts pointed out that there was only one Black Thread song. That’s probably true, more or less. Although within that song, I think I’ve found a decent spectrum of variants. I like defining or refining an aesthetic (or attempting to), but I try to be open to development at the same time. Which can be a fun challenge. I thought I’d get bored of playing the same 7 notes and trying different filtering/speed/noise variations, but I guess it’s a bit more bottomless than I thought. It turns out many artists just have a few tricks, only sometimes the formula isn’t as stripped down and obvious. I heard on a radio program of a computer program written by David Cope that analyzes scores of, say, Bach or Mahler, and can generate a convincing and moving piece in the style over and over. Many classical composers or painters do series of pieces or exercises that are all variations on a form. You know exactly what’s coming but it’s interesting in the execution. All this information seems to suggest that art works a lot differently than it’s popularly understood to be. That it’s more about finding a way of working within inherent limitations in the options. Which is ironic given that limitlessness and an abundance of options is largely the promise (or result) of technology and culture.

Black Thread recordings always have a raw, or unaffected sound to them. Tape loops seem to be utilized on every BT recordings, but what types of instrumentation do you use beyond that (without giving to much away)? Is there certain instruments or techniques you use on BT recordings that are not present on others?

There’s not much to give away, and I use the same gear on almost all my music. Hardware setup, with a few variations: Tascam 4-track  portapotty, Sony TCM-series handheld tape recorders, various DIY cassette loops, Roland MC202 monosynth, delay/distortion/EQ pedals, contact mic. I have a couple other pieces like some modular gear I have thrown in from time to time, particularly on the noisier releases such as “Descending Helioptrope Shards”. Software setup: Cubase for editing/mixing/processing, a couple of Reaktor VST fx, and pure data. There’s a YouTube video of Black Thread performing at Bleakhaus (RIP?) that shows the tape loop system working close up, for the curious. The Tascam 4-track is my only essential piece of hardware, followed by the Tascam power adapter that comes with it.

What do you see when you listen to a particularly good piece of music?

Fun question. I guess I see what’s normally in front of me, but it seems a lot more meaningful than without music. It seems to follow that music could be dangerous depending on what I’m looking at…

How do you see your music in the greater framework of experimental music being made? Or do you not concern yourself with that type of thinking?

I don’t think about it too much when I’m working, but I’m sure my music is insignificant in the greater framework of experimental music, which is for the best. I really like the particular parts of experimental music that I happen to gravitate toward, but on the whole it has about as much to offer as anything else in life (which is to say, very little, or everything), so it’s just one path among many. I’m certain I got here almost entirely by chance, along with just about everyone doing everything in life. Of course, beliefs and day-to-day thoughts and actions often can’t coincide, so I need to think what I’m doing is important on some level in order to keep doing it. The species seems to function on pleasant (or unpleasant) lies, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing if it’s the only way forward.

What is your general approach to making or recording music? Do you have a certain routine you follow? How is a Black Thread recording process different from say, a Barrier Of Dark Leaves recording process?

They’re pretty much the same. I sit down in front of my tape things and mess around until I have some sounds I like, then rip the tapes to Cubase and edit until I’m happy with the results. I probably spend most of my musical work time on the computer, like 70%. The hardware stuff is one-shot and I can generate a lot of sound quickly. When I work all-digital, like on my pure data pieces, I try to replicate the fast one-shot sound generation stage, otherwise I can’t get anything finished. The outboard gear difference between Black Thread and Barrier Of Dark Leaves is that Black Thread involves getting my 202 out and making new tape loops and Barrier Of Dark Leaves involves getting my static generator out. The other difference is what I feel like making, or, more often, whatever needs to be made for another label or for a particular split or upcoming performance, etc. Needless to say, not much about this process requires being in a professional studio, although I’ve had fun doing that with various bands I’ve played with over the years. It’s important that I can do everything from recording to final release within a 5-foot radius of where I sleep every night, otherwise I get pretty crabby. Beyond that, I prefer the simplest setup possible. I also tend to enjoy music made by people in similar circumstances. But not always! I don’t have access to many other options. So if I didn’t like doing things this way, I’d probably have to get used to it anyway, which is pretty much what I spent the last decade gradually coming to terms with.

The recent collaboration with Anatol Locker to remix your C20 “Stay/Vale” is fantastic. How did that come about? What was the recording process like? Any other plans for similar remix projects in the works?

It was extremely easy. Anatol messaged me out of the blue on Soundcloud with the remixes already finished and I did very minor editing and processing. He basically ran the tape through some (probably customized) time stretching patch in Max similar to the kind that turns Justin Bieber songs into Brian Eno songs, but it sounded great and made me reassess my views of that sort of process. I had an offer from Charles Barabé from the La Cohu label waiting to fill (I did a tape of his duo La Cochonnerie Humaine for my last label) and I asked my friend Eric Sanchez to do the artwork. Whole story. Currently, I’m working on a piano and tape loop album with my neighbor Danny Clay. We mostly sit around complaining about experimental music, so you know it’s a great band. Black thread is a pretty introspective project, not really the kind of stuff you’d play at a party, so it’s taken a few years to feel comfortable with bringing other people into the process.

If you could pick someone for your dream collaboration, who would it be?

Nobody specific comes to mind other than reactivating a few collaborations currently separated by space and different lives. But to indulge a fantasy, my friend (and collaborator) Brendan Landis suggested a while back that I send some Black Thread material to Lil B to use as “beats”. But I doubt it’ll happen, even after “Rain In England”. The guy is too busy — I imagine his phone calender has hourly reminders to stay positive. Since I have plenty to keep me busy on my own, I don’t really pursue collaborations, but I like them when they come along. Especially the kind where I just do my thing and they do their thing over it, or vice versa, and an amazing result happens. The frustration is when collaborations wind up being a watered down version of what each person does well on their own, which seems to happen more often than not. In any case, I’m pretty certain a collaboration with Lil B would be in the former category rather than the latter. He doesn’t seem like the type to have any compunctions about being anything other than himself in a collaborative setting, or in any other setting for that matter. Another fantasy would be playing in a Jandek live band someday, for similar reasons. It’d also be great to collaborate with my current noise wall teen obsession (I have posters on my wall with hearts drawn on them), Julien Skrobek, who I’ve done a few tape releases for. But that’s not much of a fantasy because we’d probably finish a tape in a few days if I were to ask him now. I’m just not sure that I’d add much to his sound.

What’s on the horizon for Black Thread?

Honestly, I’m still pretty excited about tape loops.