I don’t know much about computers. I’ve never seen the 1995 crime-drama Hackers, and the only thing I remember from The Net is when Sandra Bullock’s character Angela orders a pizza from the site pizza.net. I do have strong memories of playing, very well I might add, a game called Jezzball on Windows 3.11. That, and being reminded by my dad to constantly defrag. We were ALWAYS defragging. Maybe all of that obsessive defragging paid off, because I never had a computer shit out on me. I did manage to spill an entire cup of coffee into the works of my current HP, but technical support somehow managed to de-coffee all of the motherboards and had me surfing sites like pizza.net in no time.
It would appear that KFM has not been #blessed with such luck. “My piece of shit hard drive died, leaving me with these unfinished tracks.” That is how KFM describes “\\\fail.” I suppose it’s far too late to contact any of the computer repair services in his hometown of Millville, NJ. I wont even suggest defragging at this point. What’s done is done and these 20 tracks have been put out into the world. So are they unfinished? I mean, there existence would suggest that they are finished, right? There is no going back to that piece of shit hard drive to collect whatever was on it. The tape is out. It is finished. But is anything really finished? I’d wager one could trot on over to a record store in Millville right now and pick up multiple variants of “Rumours” with contrasting remasterings, retoolings, and audio defraggings. Would you consider “Rumours” to be “finished?” Do you want to get high and have that conversation? No? Okay…
“\\\fail” is not “Rumours.” And finished or unfinished, it’s an excellent collection of music with an ever-swaying emotional disorder. I wouldn’t recommend jamming this for your crew though. Let’s consider it alone music. The synthesizers will sometimes throw you behind the wheel of a super fancy 1990’s sports car, but sometimes they’ll jam you on a packed city bus next to a guy with nose crusties. One second you’re marveling at how moisturized your skins is, then some creep is whispering to you about anal sex. Seriously, there is a song called “a s s p l a y” with decelerated conversations about anal sex. And you know what? It’s not just listenable. It’s really good! KFM manages to make that something worth listening to. But, like I said, these are alone songs. I guess you could attempt a group listen… You could sit in the middle of a circle of friends, playing “\\\fail” on a shitty boombox while doing live commentary. “Okay, you guys remember that squiggly techno thing? Okay. Okay. Here comes some squiggly Faith No More type booger. Okay. Okay.” It wont end well. You’ll just look weird.
Do you remember the episode of Star Trek: TNG when Fletcher Pratt and Curt Brown randomly beamed aboard Enterprise, interrupting the recording of a Captain’s Log? It’s an extremely rare episode titled “Jao Dub” that aired during season 8 or 9… Maybe 10? Known by a superfan (ie: me) as the one where Picard mumbles “oh shit” 11 times, it begins with Starfleet investigating what they foolishly confuse as distress signals from a small Class M planet nearby. After tracking down the curdling cry for help the crew scans the planet’s life signals, when *POOF* Pratt & Brown appear on the bridge, startling poor Picard who spills his tea, Earl Grey, hot all over his uniform. Before Worf can even attempt to neutralize the situation, the duo takes over command of the ship and starts exploring it’s controls through excellent touch-screen menus. The following 30 commercial-free minutes, which were only televised once before all original recordings were allegedly destroyed, was raw footage of Map Collection wall-to-walling all of Enterprise with a nectarous dub experience. Naysayers will proclaim this all to be gibberish. They’ll say this never actually happened in the TNG universe. They’ll claim there were only seven seasons of TNG. They’ll ask you nicely to leave the convention. They’ll say “take your hands off of Mr. Wheaton!” They’ll have security set their tasers to tase and tase you.
But here’s my question: If the infamous “Jao Dub” episode is a sham, a ruse, a fig newton of my imagination, then how do you explain the soundtrack for the episode released on Midori Records on cassette tape format?!? […pause for drama..] And like Picard you mumble “oh shit.”
Anyone familiar and smitten with Pratt and/or Brown’s various works (alone or in pairs) will sink right into Map Collection. “Jao Dub” is krauty sometimes, peculiar most of the time, and always confusingly satisfying. It’s no wonder why Gene Roddenberry hand picked them himself for the episode. No strangers to the off-brand wing of kosmiche dub stylings and syntheizer wrangling, Map Collection squeeze out their musical souls like a 10.1 oz tube of clear silicone caulk. Thick and gooey they run beads of their mutant rhythms, tempting enough to slush your thumb into like wet wads of pineapple Bubble Yum, but globs upon globs would stick to your skin if you did that, plus time becomes a loop very often here, so just relax. I’d bet even Data would vibe out and nod along to sections, which is a pretty big deal. Map Collection keep this entire zone infected with scrambles and pops. Little ugly cousin sounds that pester the scene, but in a good way! Nothing like Tribbles, which I know is not TNG and I apologize to anyone who was offended by the reference.
So who are you gonna believe? Me with all of my PROOF or that asshole Wil Wheaton who can’t even spell his name right?
Oh, brother. Looks like my old Hi-Fi is on the fritz again… Maybe the springs are on too tight? Or too loose?? Not being a mechanic I have no clue how stereo systems function, but I do know that something has definitely gone sour, because this WUMISI cassette from OJC is hurdling all over the dang place. Fast forwarding and rewinding on it’s own like a doggone spirit from the ever after has taken it over. Lordy, I hope it’s a spring issue and not a ghost outbreak. Springs are way less scary. While I get a repair tech on the horn, and a Catholic priest in case I need the power of Christ to compel this thing, I’ll listen to WUMISI on Bandcamp I suppose.
…
Uh oh! Sounds like my computer has been zapped by a virus! Have these 400lb hackers no decency!? [Speaking of 400lb hackers, is that one on the cover? Talk about foreshadowing.] Looks like my poor soundboard doesn’t know if it’s coming or going, and is probably loaded down with every worm, spam, and Trojan pony in the book. I think WUMISI plays //okay// sometimes, and it squeezes out these contorted musical thoughts, but then it’s Sour Patch theater with a zillion child actors. Well, time to at minimum defrag my entire hard drive. I may even need to run VirusBozo 6.9 and really scrub the Russian bots out of this fella.
[VirusBozo6.9 ### status: ACTIVE! ### Progress: 42.0% out of 103%]
VirusBozo added a feature called Dead-Link Swiffer® to this latest version. Supposedly it cleans all the dead links off of your internet, leaving a fresh lemon scent and coupons for Swiffer® Antibacterial Wipes. Anyway, it takes a few days to run, so while that is happening I’ll go grab my Zune and play the MP5’s I downloaded earlier…
…
You’re not gonna believe this. The files are corrupted! It just sounds like an injured squirrel was granted one wish from an Oak tree that came to life and the squirrel said “I want to be music.” Just an injured squirrel… Poorly morphed into music. At one point I sorta made out the Sanford And Son theme song, and let me tell you this – I had NO CLUE that was a dang Quincy Jones song! Now THAT is a song. You could listen to the Sanford And Son theme for weeks and never think “this is an injured squirrel.” It just ain’t gonna happen, people. But WUMISI? Now that is an injured squirrel, hyper-accelerated and about to go BOOM!
[telephone rings]
Gotta go, that’s my priest, Father Francis Wumisi…. Wait a second!
Draft Announces First Release In Three Years + Sale 11.1.17 by Mike Haley
Every bozo that bought a weirdo cassette tape in the 2009 – 2012 time period surely remembers Gift Tapes. Gift (RIP) did some veeeeeery 2009-2012 things in that period, like releasing cassettes by The North Sea/Charlatan (who ran Foxy Digitalis, RIP), Bee Mask (who ran Deception Island, RIP), and many more, announcing them all on the Fangs & Arrows message board (RIP). Gift drifted into the organic void, but not before spawning Draft. Draft was created as an outlet for non-magnetic tape offerings, though most of it’s output was just that. It too fell silent along with Gift around 2014. Well guess what, baby? Draft wasn’t dead after all! And it’s back! I know, very Stranger Things, right? [Sorry if that reference is whacked. I’m not really watching Stranger Things very closely]
Draft’s first release in three years in a solo tape by the person behind Gift/Draft, Jason E Anderson. Now this guy’s audio fingerprints are all over both labels (Spare Death Icon, Brother Raven, Harpoon Pole Vault, etc…), but “Truth” is his first solo appearance on the Draft imprint. The C60 appears to be caked over with many a droid-like, satisfying zaps and smacks. The sample posted, which you can stream below, is a disorienting modular slalom from Anderson while Ian Halloran reads from the 1980 book Metaphors We Live By. In an email from the label “Truth” was described as such…
“Truth” is Anderson’s most recent solo recording involving voice and synthesis, a common thread found within his work over the last 5 years. “Truth” was created using a computer running supercollider to send control voltages to a modular synthesizer from an audio interface, while Ian Halloran read from ‘Chapter 24: Truth’ of Metaphors We Live By into a microphone routed to a preamp and ring modulator within the synth. The work’s progression relies entirely on the interaction between semi-random patterns and Anderson’s manual shaping of sounds and cueing of patterns. The music consists entirely of modulated oscillators navigating the stereo field, punctuated by irregular fragments of text that vary in intelligibility.
But, wait! There’s more! Draft has lowered the prices on a grip of back catalog goodies, including the MUST GET Greg Davis “States (3)” for five bones?! Go to Draft and get what ya can get!
Throw a rock out the window. Go ahead, I wont tell mom. Chances are you just bonked a cassette right in it’s spools. A beat-laced cassette, most likely, one that was minding it’s own business just trying to enjoy the weather. The next thing, KABLOOM! A rock cracks it’s shell. And all because some bozo-joker told you to throw a rock out the window… Shame. Maybe I WILL tell mom.
The reason I can be fairly certain that your rock cold cocked a tape, a breezy one soiled over with groove at that, is because they are everywhere! The man on the TV said that maybe someone brought one over from Europe or somewheres, with plans of keeping it as a pet, but eventually tired of it’s company and released the poor thing into the wild. Before anyone could even say “low pass filter” it was breeding with the local tapes. Aaaaaaand population BOOM! They don’t really need that much to survive either — A few samples, some humid loops — plus they can squeeze through holes small as a nickle. At least, that is what the man on TV said. Some folks, increasingly annoyed by their presence and past the point of ignoring them, get rid of ’em with a quick dub-over. Uncle Bert, I think he is on my mom’s side, he likes to make mixes of WASP and Nitro and shit like that over the little buggers to play in his car on the way to work. I think that is so cruel. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those PETV (People for the Ethical Treatment of Vaporwave) loons! I’m no militant! I just think some of them are rather fun to have around… Hell, some are GREAT to have around. Plus, what I’m about to tell you about, though perhaps Vwave adjacent, doesn’t live in the neighborhood.
I know, I know. You want to throw another rock out the window. I’m almost done with my tale. So a few days ago I stopped by Uncle Bert’s to borrow his potato gun and scoped a New Balance box overflowing with just those kind of tapes. He found the lot sauntering over his sodden vinyl collection like ticks on the family pup. They had no clue his music collection was pure trash, and were just about goners due to lack of samples, but one tenacious son of a gun seemed to be surviving. Even thriving! I couldn’t tell much from it’s markings – Jadapod, Fate1, Nextagelabel, Made In L.A. festooned the cover, with a grey & green box wrapping around the spine – so I took it home and popped it in the cassette deck because that is where they LOVE to play. It galloped like a dressage horse with a decorative swagger, though one that had been threatened by the Elmer’s people a few times that it may end up in the craft aisle. There were some points so gluey it was like we were already there, smack between the stencils and model clay. There was a crustiness to some of the songs, like a dusty loop tape with rheum buildup in it’s crannies playing over snappy synth blurble and bootleg Windows startup sounds. Occasionally soft spoken voices would wind through the room, breathing on your neck with their soup breath, but they were just there to sell Dilaudid to the disco and dirge clips.
This would turn out to be “Fate1” by L.A.’s Jadapod’s. Their upmteenth release, up until this point exclusively digital (including “Fate2” and “Fate3”, released in reverse order), but first on cassette. So what to make of this? Jadapod takes a dip into the Hot Tub Chrome Machine that is the cassette world with a breezy, beat-laced debut tape and this review razzes that zone’s overcrowdedness. Attempted irony gone flat? Simply rude?? Neither was my intention! For the record I want them to, in the word of Lisa Loeb, stay. If company wants to bring dishes like this to the party, ingredients finely chopped and seasoning just right, I say the more the merrier.
Everyone, that is everyone but Uncle Bert, should grab a copy!
Charles Barabé / Ratkiller – split 10.9.17 by Mike Haley
Alright, alright… If I’m gonna be 101% honest with the four or five people that read my cassette reviews (hi, mom!) then I should start off this cassette review by stating that I 101% knew I would be reviewing this cassette the moment I laid my baby hazels on it. For the lazy-player’s run down on why, here are some quick bullet points…
* Charles Barabé is a sound-genius.
* Ratkiller is a consistent maniac.
* Crash Symbols deliver the goods like one of those late-night munchies services that zoom Doritos and blunts to your door at 2:17 am.
Sooooo, the only way this pup was going to let me down would be if was accidentally dubbed over with dreamy bedroom pop or something. But even then, the artwork, with it’s Maurice Sendak having a bad week vibes, would get me by for days. Sooooo.
Luckily, the original audio was indeed left intact.
Barabé snaps into his side, “Avant-Garde Avorton Romantique,” like a rat trap, ironically. Channeling the brooding proclivity of dense soundtrack narratives, Chuck reassigns hunks of classical music and it’s kin into beyond epic sagas. As the timpani crashes with anger, reverberating around fever inducing cleaves of sound, you can almost smell gladiators prepping to do something raw and regrettable. The structure of it all is colossal, but also tangled by wormy synth sputters. A maze for your emotions to navigate. Over the last few years, with releases on labels such as Orange Milk, Tranquility Tapes, A Giant Fern, and many many more, Barabé has become less of a musician and more of a story teller. His techniques are basically copywrote. Stiff text-to-speech lines often reoccur to advance the plot. Perfected on his 2014 recording “Insultes (hommage à John Cage),” they are quickly heard here like HAL 9000 browsing a dating site while on the toilet. A syrupy “Communication is a huge thing for me. After a long day at work I just want to cuddle and watch TV and fall asleep” drains over a lethargic electronic rhythm. Everything stinks of confusion and suspicion and an uneasy joy. These elements under the steady hand of Barabé make it simple to close your eyes and drift into a previously non existent world.
I don’t remember where I initially heard Mihkel Kleis’ project Ratkiller. Maybe it was the “Cellar Dweller” tape on Rotifer? The point is I kept hearing Ratkiller because I knew it was the right thing to do. My instincts were confirmed by “Transrational Suite,” the name given to the five tracks on the flip side here. Kleis occupies the same real estate as Barabé – that is one where a whimsical jigsawing of romantic melodies takes place – but goes with a contrasting layout. On side A, where brick is exposed, Ratkiller hangs flowing tapestries. Where “Avant-Garde Avorton Romantique” glows high-watt neon bulbs, “Transrational Suite” relies on natural light to show off it’s slow-curved angles. But even with those soft color palettes and deep shag sounds, Ratkiller keeps peculiarity in mind. The track “An Attempted Dialogue Between Man and Fish” is a perfect example, where the normalcy and niceties of a guitar serenade are slowly leached by gurgling cloudiness.
Go grab a copy or two from Crash Symbols. And I’ll see you at Thanksgiving, mom!
If ya blinked any time during the month of September then chances are you missed out on the grand opening of Muzan Editions. The label started it’s life with three tapes, each in bite-sized editions of 25 copies, all of which were quickly claimed (AKA: SOLD OUT!). Of course binary streams are still available by way of Bandcamp, but you’re gonna wanna go the extra mile and track these down in physical form, if at all possible. A first hand witnessing of the care that went into presentation is a must. Heady artwork is darkly bruised onto uncoated kraft stock, the sort of paper that 100 year old invoices for haircuts were hand written on. The Jcard panels and shell stickers are atypical, adding to the fine start from this Japanese-based imprint. And the sounds. Oh, brother… The sounds!
MEDS001 is Florian von Ameln‘s “Interbellum.” The time between wars is referred to as an interbellum, a period of contemplation that humanity seems less and less eager to grant itself. America has been at war literally every day since I was born in 1980, so an interbellum seems more like an abstract concept to me than an actual allotment of time. Being a total stranger, I can only guess how Florian von Ameln processes the idea of interbellum. I know they live in Germany, which has it’s… past… and I have “Interbellum” as a compass, with it’s needle pointing strongly to peaceful grounds. The C20 consists of five tracks titled 1919 – 1923, the five years following the first World War, which arranges the listeners thoughts, giving a broader meaning to the guitar ripples snatching themselves back in a surrounding of field recordings and eerie number station samplings.
Back in the 40’s Peter N. Witt, a Swiss pharmacologist, researched the effect of drugs on spiders. He dosed the arachnids with Benzedrine, marijuana, mescaline, and such (or fed them flies that had been partying) then basically checked out how cool their webs were. For “The Work Of The Spider” Andreas Brandal laid off the animal testing and garnered inspiration from Hungarian film director Béla Tarr with equally provocative results. Maybe he tossed back some bennies too? I don’t know, I’m not a cop. Brandal’s synth webs glisten in the sun with snap and precision. Each track is silky as can be while churning along with force and focus. Maybe he is a spider? Someone get Norway on the phone!
Hegira Moya‘s “閑静な住宅街” (translated to Quiet Residential Area) plays quieter than most residential areas. Even the REALLY quiet ones. The state these sounds are in are more akin to abandoned areas, left vacant after some sort of chemical spill. Synthesized whispers crack like thawing ooze as animals move in to see what that new smell is. Squirrels and various rodents nibble at the bubbles, riffle through remnants, totally unaware that they’ll have a second tail in the morning. The tones are pinks and greens and yellows, vibrant yet tiny, like a Lite-Brite jacked into a practice amp.
Jeez, I really managed to drudge up some of the most bummer tones from these tapes. They are amazing, I swear, and will somehow still make you feel good inside. As I said earlier, they are sold out from the source, but happy hunting! In the meantime, consume the digital goodies and stay focused on Muzan for more super depressing/uplifting releases.
Takahiro Mukai / Shoeb Ahmad – split 8.30.17 by Mike Haley
Allow me to channel my inner Suess for a moment to describe Tandem Tapes… If you couldn’t tell by their name, or the long list of releases that are exclusively splits, Tandem Tapes is a tape label that exclusively releases splits. That was fun. I promise not to do it again. Anyways, one of the latest splits out of Tandem’s Jakarta HQ pairs up Takahiro Mukai and Shoeb Ahmad in a long distance three-legged race, an ocean separating them (literally and metaphorically).
Takahiro Mukai‘s wormy synths recently discovered a fresh corpse in their garden, at least that is what I’m attributing their avid delight too. Barely shaded from a glistening sun, they chug-a-lug below a thin layer of soil, fluxing in shade. Bobbing their heads – or maybe tails? It’s hard to tell with worms. Do they even have “heads” or “tails??” I’d say no… I fear this is getting sidetracked – as I was saying, bobbing their whatevers, these slimy lil’ suckers pass by shady looking bugs and broken glass on their path to the body. This particular side of the cassette has three tracks, titled #311, #308, and #312, in that order. Through the entirety of those three tracks is a consistent vibe that is orderly and pleased; These synth worms are thrilled to be alive! They bubble with excitement, never letting it overflow into chaos. Single file lines have been formed and order/fun is being kept. This isn’t some going-out-of-business Best Buy in Florida. This is Takahiro Mukai. He knows how to control his worms, he feeds em right. That’s why they do it. That is where these hypnotic mandalas of blips and blaps come from.
Oh yeah, I Googled “worm anatomy.” Turns out they have gizzards.
From Osaka, Japan to Canberra, Australia. We can jump in a plane or a boat can sail, ya! Sorry, I promised to stop that. Shoeb Ahmad‘s side offers far less optimism than Takahiro Mukai’s saucy worms with their three-day weekend dances. Worms are immediately replaced by “Dragonfly,” an epic jaunt compacted into six minutes in which the elegiac vibrations of an acoustic guitar are drug across unfinished hard wood. A somber trek made awkward (in a good way) by a pesky, twitching loop, all staticy and in desperate need of a Swiffer Dust Cloth. There is an uneasiness deep in the sounds here. I’d imagine this track is how one would feel walking into the wrong funeral. The weird discomfort you’d feel upon not recognizing a single face in the room, including the corpse. Maybe it’s the same corpse that ended up in Mukai’s worm garden? At 11 minutes “Voigt” is a reflection on what just occurred. Here, the more bummer elements are blanketed by heated tones and desultory snaps, like a medicated recess from reality. It’s nice to get away, even for a moment.
Only 25 copies of this split were made, because Tandem does very small edition sizes. So with a fizzle, a nizzle, a dizzle flamp plamp. Please direct your web browser to a Band that is camp.
Wires Crossed – Sound Holes vs Self-help 8.21.17 by Mike Haley
There is a legion of labels and weirdo jammers releasing cassette, with new names popping up every single day. With those staggering numbers it can be easy to mix em up, get confused, or form loose associations. Wires Crossed will take those Corey Haim/Corey Feldman and Oprah/Uma situations and figure out just how similar they are.
This time around we take a look at Sound Holes and Self-help, two labels that share initials and a taste for black & white Jcards.
-In 5 words or less describe your label.
Sound Holes: Sound Holes is a “noise/experimental sound cassette label.”
Self-help: Experimental sounds
-Where in the world does your label operate out of? How much distance do you think separates the two of you?
Sound Holes: Aberdeen, Scotland. I think Self-Help are in Sweden somewhere, I’ll guess 1100 miles as the seagull flies
Self-help: Northern parts of Sweden, if I would guess 6-7000 km or something like that? I really have no idea from where Sound Holes operates so this is a wild guess.
actual distance: 871.83 miles , 1403.07 kilometers (km) , 4603252 feet , 1403071 meters
-What was the last thing you ate?
Sound Holes: Steak sandwich.
Self-help: A tempeh burger.
-All of your covers are black & white. What is behind that choice?
Sound Holes: I like to keep it simple, also always thought that black and white photocopied artwork/zines etc looked the best. The earlier releases always had colourful cassettes with colour spray on them, I enjoyed doing that but there was too much spray paint. I then started labeling the tapes and stopped using colours. Might go back to colours though…
Self-help: I use a stamp with removable types, the reason is the directness and simplicity. I like the contrast of black on white, the uneven spacing that sometimes occurs and that the placement of the actual print varies somewhat.
-Self-Help has released a tape by Pink Gaze and The Heroic Quartet. Sound Holes released a tape by Golden Oaks Three Billion. If you were forced to add one color to your black & white color scheme, which would it be: Pink or Gold?
Sound Holes: Gold. A touch of class.
Self-help: Pink for sure. That’s just an awesome color in combination with black and white.
-What color(s) are the walls of the room you are currently in?
Sound Holes: Off-white & copper(ish).
Self-help: Yellow, green, red and white. Wallpaper with large flower prints.
-Wayne or Garth?
Sound Holes: Garth. Game on!
Self-help: Garth.
-What are a few of your favorite tape labels at the moment?
Sound Holes: Heavy Tapes (always), Skeleton Dust, Chocolate Monk, Three Songs Of Lenin, Beartown, Throne Heap, Mantile, Palilalia, Hanson (not all of these are exclusively tapes, but that doesn’t matter). There are so many that I have not listed.
Self-help: I love Falt. Amazing artwork and the tapes are all just wonderful.
-Considering that both of your labels’ art is strictly black & white, and further Self-Help always sports text-only Ocards, has anyone ever decided against doing a tape with you because of art restrictions?
Sound Holes: Not that I know of. I hope not!
Self-help: Not that I know of. Most people contacting me about releases that I consider know the label and like the aesthetics it has, no one has decided against due to the visual restrictions after contacting the label.
-Do you have any cassette pet peeves?
Sound Holes: No, I like all cassettes equally.
Self-help: The nostalgia for sure. Cassettes are a great recording media in itself, no need to soak it up in nostalgia.
-Are your releases home or pro dubbed? Why?
Sound Holes: Home dubbed (on decent quality cassette decks), I like the process (although it can get a bit much sometimes). Also, I don’t have room to stack up the full runs of all the in print releases if I got them all pro dubbed.
Self-help: Home dubbed. I like the approach of doing it at home, stamping covers, dubbing and drinking a few glasses of wine. Also, I like how the releases grows on you, sitting there dubbing and listening to the releases over and over and really getting to know the music.
-What prompted you to start a tape label?
Sound Holes: A good friend, many years ago encouraged me to start up.
Self-help: I had a few things I thought needed to be put on tape. Stuff I stumbled upon on soundcloud back when you actually could stumble upon things there, now it feels more like a mess or it might be me having too little time to actually delve through to the stuff I love.
-Both of your labels have very similar logos. What typeface did you use?
Sound Holes: One of those stamp letter sets. Used it at the start and will never stop.
Self-help: Oh no idea. Just used the types I use for the covers, took a picture and that was that. Logos isn’t really a thing I care about.
-What sort of edition sizes do you do?
Sound Holes: 30 – 100ish.
Self-help: It has varied, but nowadays I only do runs of 30.
-Would you consider Sound Hole releases to be “self-help” / Self-Help releases to be “sound holes” in anyway?
Sound Holes: Yes, sounds soothe the soul.
Self-help: Sure, if I interpret it as sound holes in acoustic stringed instruments, directing and resonating the sounds in a way. I think this is the main reason for doing a release on whatever phycial media, directing and collecting these interconnected but separate works together and giving them a context in which they can resonate together with one another.
-If you were to start another label with the initials “S.H.” what would it be called?
Sound Holes: Spicy Hammock. I’ve always wanted to call a label Each Hit. Has that name been used before? Caroliner has/had BullShit.
Self-help: Sun Hearth
-What video game character would you most like to release a tape by?
Sound Holes: I bet Mario has seen some things in his lifetime. He could probably channel that into something pretty special. Sonic would probably have more projects/aliases though, he seems a bit more all over the place.
Self-help: Harry from Firewatch. I imagine field recordings of the wildlife and maybe snippets of the conversations over the radio with Delilah.
-If your label was a chemical element, which would it be?
Sound Holes: It would be an inorganic anion, Bisulfide, SH−
Self-help: Iron. Oxidized of course.
-What was the last tape you bought?
Sound Holes: Last one that arrived was Alex Crispin “Idle Worship”. Last I ordered were a few tapes by the guitarist Alexander.
Self-help: Jääkausi by this amazing band Horceface. Highly recommended.
-Paper, rock, scissor. Shoot!
Sound Holes: Rock.
Self-help: Paper.
-Let’s end this with a random Youtube video. What ya go?
Nakatani/Nanna/Schoofs/Woods – s/t 8.11.17 by Mike Haley
The ad-lib ensemble of Tatsuya Nakatani, Peter Woods, Jason Nanna, and Amanda Schoofs approach free music on their self-titled cassette as if they were just pulled over by a small town cop while on mushrooms. Eyes wide, toes clenched into anxious feet-fists, Woods barely moves a muscle, showing restraint rarely seen on his FTAM label. Fearing that he and his bass will both end up in some podunk cell, munching on bologna and wet white bread sandwiches for weeks, he wisely stays away from playing any bass face inducing tunes. The occasional pluck/scratch/bump of his instrument could best be chalked up to nerves. Who can blame him? The bass player always gets the short end of the stick in these situations. Meanwhile, Shoofs is too far gone into her zone to be bothered with maintaining even a facade of normalcy. From shotgun her pupils gawk through the window at the knock off Rosco P. Coltrane on the other side – not just the other side of the window, but the other side of a reality – as she spits out poetry in dead languages, at times operatic, but always concerning and with a beautiful range. There is a strong possibility that Tatsuya Nakatani, the Japanese based percussionist with a seemingly endless catalog of sound, was originally in the now vacant driver seat of the car, but pursued solace in the trunk, shuffling an oil pan, tire iron, and loose lug nuts to make space. Rosco can hear the metal-on-metal scuffle plain as day, but there are more pressing issues at hand. For instance, Mr. Nanna. Like a toddler Nanna can’t keep his hands to himself, fiddling with the fuse box, stereo dials, and any knob, switch, or slider he can get his sugary hands on. His electronics, along with those provided by Amanda, fizzle, gelling together the unfettered ambient malaise as he thinks to himself “You’re doing great. Just keep fucking with these turn signals. You’re not about to melt. This cop doesn’t think you are going to melt.” None of that is the case though. Nanna is melting, cooking the dashboard into a goo with him. Good news: they kill the cop with brainwaves and continue their 9 mph commute down whatever random road they are on.
In reality the quartet’s drive was a spontaneous jam session in Milwaukee. Culled from that unscripted meeting are 16 bite-sized chunks of abstract, free jazzish beauty averaging about two minutes a shot. And it was all CAUGHT ON TAPE and released in an edition of 75 by the always impressive Full Spectrum. You can find one here.
