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.
The listening tastes of a newborn are so dang primal. They’re probably the only true noise fans, all smooth and stupid, pre-loaded with all the knowledge of a slightly damp dish towel. They don’t know about time zones, or droughts, or cheese flavors. But they do know primal. Their vision may be on par with that same slightly damp dish towel, but for months they’ve been surrounded by an unevolved womb-sound sloshing about in the only area they know exists like, well, a slightly damp dish towel. It’s a soundtrack that has been on repeat since forever. Rock and roll, jazz, cheesecake – None of these genres have the staying power of noise. Once given the opportunity to join the rest of us, oh with our fancy time zones, and droughts, and various cheeses, tiny almost-people only give a shit about three things: Sleeping. Eating. Noise. I used to play random RRR Recycled tapes to chill my kid out. It was like she just ripped a bong and was going to ask if I was into Merzbow. Honestly a blow dryer would have worked fine, because it’s all about primal. A long, long time ago, I’m talking before we had any cheese flavors at all, it was super important to live near water. At night the water was like side A track 2 on the cassette of all existence. That’s old news though, because in 2017 you can live in literally any time zone and order whatever you want in any cheese flavor. Drones make it all out of salt and immediately bring it to you, basically causing droughts. We aren’t supposed to listen to noise anymore either. Eventually the closest you’re supposed to come is techno I think.
Matt Boetke has always lived comparatively close to water — The Schuylkill in Philadelphia. The East River in New York. The Atlantic Ocean in general. He does the project Scant, which means a small amount of something. Maybe not enough to get through the night. Very primal. Don’t listen to “At Fault” just yet… I want you to try something, and really try this. It sounds like it might be yoga, but don’t worry. It’s not yoga. Go somewhere quiet and close your eyes. Imagine you are a baby, all alone, swaddled in some animal’s skin. Imagine you’re on the beach, at night. Imagine what you hear, but try to filter out everything you know. Time zones, droughts, cheese flavors… Get rid of all of that and listen to existence through your damp dish towel brain.
Now compare that sensation to “At Fault.” At 20 minutes it’s all lethargic and starved. Like a shadow with no body, it’s chronic loneliness simply hovers in the form of gargled, selfish oscillations. A pure bummer? If you seek the comfort of techno to fulfill a fringe voyeuristic itch, sure. (You ever notice how much “techno” sounds like “Costco?” Techno. Costco. Techno. Costco.) But remember, Matt Boetke never really moved away from the water, and something tells me his urges are primal. These clouds of sound formed above moon-lit, speculative beaches are a relief. A reverse cyanide. But most of all, a damp dish towel begging you to join the hive mind.
No more than 100 copies of “At Fault” are available from No Rent Records.
RM Francis – Hyperplastic Other 6.25.17 by Mike Haley
I’m horrified of automation. All of us should be! At best I give it 69 months before machines handle every function in society and decide to melt us hu-mans down for fuel. In the meantime I still use the self check out at the grocery store, so sure, I’m a hypocrite. But maybe I don’t want to be judged for buying a Party Sized bag of habanero-pickle flavored chips. Well, it turns out the good ol’ self check out isn’t even a safe space for gluttonous purchases anymore, because now even the machines are judging us. At least that’s what it sounds like is happening on this RM Francis cassette.
“Hyperplastic Other” is a series of binary barbs, converted into MIDI blips and snips that sound like attempts at putting the toothpaste back into the tube, tumbling through the internet of things. This is apparently the best way for your Nest thermostat to talk shit on you with the neighbors SmartFridge™. We bags of organic mess hear “zip.. ziiiiip. zipblipblap bloop. ting. vyoooom” but those super gossipy appliances are actually making fun of me needing to run the AC at the slightest sign of humidity – My hair gets puffy, give me a break! RM Francis goes into detail about the creation process of these rolling sounds in the liner notes on the Jcard: “Hyperplastic Other was composed largely using a two dimensional array of 17,040 computer-generated values between 0 and 1, which was divided into 71 parametric paths. The array values were scaled and converted to MIDI messages; the paths were arbitrarily assigned to individual parameters of……” but all I hear when I read that is “zip.. ziiiiip. zipblipblap bloop. ting. vyoooom.” And that’s okay. I don’t think RM Francis will be the least bit concerned if you decide to approach these recordings appreciating the science behind the glitch or simply for the glitch itself. Hell, there was a chocolate cassette version of this! INDULGE! You’re vacuum is going to look down on you either way.
Grab one of the 100 non-chocolate copies of “Hyperplastic Other” from Nada’s Bandcamp, which is probably sentient at this point and already knows you want one.
With each uncanny Castle Bravo cassette releases, the label has further cemented their slow-burn apocalypse manifesto. It’s a relatively young operation, but one with 20-some proclamations that are saturated in mystery and purpose, with a starkness of sound and imagery that branches out WIIIIDE. In short, Castle Bravo is one of the better experimental tape labels going right now, and if we’re exclusively talking about labels that lay out releases like oil slicks on burning hot interstates, they are probably the best thing going period. The latest batch out of CB’s 15th Street HQ in Lafayette, IN are all Doberman related titles. Doberman, a house-band of sorts, is how the label kicked things off, and have played a major role in the discography so far. If you are familiar with them, you should be pretty titillated at this point about this new batch.
Are you? Are you titillated? And we’re off.
To start things off, “Integral Formation,” a C40 from Gateway, is a offering of Doberman member JF (on synth, strings and springs) with horn accompaniment by TG (also of Doberman). It’s a menacing listen, with waves of horn providing an undeserved comfort, crucially baying out through open stained-glass windows, the glass rattling from the low-end, sleazy-motion electronics. Gateway use their instruments like archaic tools, etching gritty patterns of distorted thuds and bone-weary tones into clay. The duo steps right up to a line of unstable chaos, but manages to keep the dog on the leash, making for tracks that are hella jagged but still under control.
Who is Tim Gick? I’m not about to tell you, because I do not know. According to the Castle Bravo notes on Bandcamp, what we have here is another Doberman colleague, or at least one of ‘CRAZY’ Doberman. Of course, what marks the distinction between non-crazy and CRAZY Doberman is unknown, at least to me. I honestly don’t care though. This tape is fantastic, and possibly the most ‘cosmic’ sounding in the Castle Bravo catalog. Tim Gick launches out of basement on a home-made rocket with the intent to discharge a shameless amount fuss on his neighbors, while still maintaining the murky vibe I’m sure they are familiar with. Side A of “Soleil Noir” rattles off a persistent stream of sizzle and zap, as if someone filled a card shuffler with corrupted MP3s files and microwaved NASA recordings. While more relaxed, the patches of sound on side B are still not exactly relaxing. Indiscriminate bits attempt to bind themselves together, like bugs realizing that they can create a colony, but it’s proven too difficult a task to hold the group together. Eventually some 3rd grader weaponizes a magnifying glass on a sunny day and everything is sent scrambling in horror.
Rounding things out is a C30 from Crazy Doberman called “Hell Is Within Us.” Well, the crew must really want that hell out of em, because this recording is basically an exorcism. From what I can gather, their damaged plan is to cast out some evil, unwanted spirits by creating bleaker ones. Think less 80’s Skateboarding skeletons with sunglasses, giving a bony thumbs up – more like an organic sludge that smells of burning rubber and has a steady pulse. The synths here are inflamed and, to be honest, very very rude. Like, totally impolite synthesizers, oozing all over your Easter clothes the day before Easter. Take that rude ooze and blur in some dire sax, wailing like it’s got a paper cut under it’s saxophone thumbnail. Ouch! I hesitate to use the word “thumbnail” in fear that it will make a kind reader think of a thumbnail, or “reduced-size versions of pictures or videos.” Nothing here is reduced in size. Crazy Doberman boils it, but it never boils down. It’s one of their skills. When Donald Trump is emperor of The Afterworld this is what listening to a jazz LP on your underground bunker’s crank-up record player will sound like. Get used to it. Bless it be.
Tapes were made in various edition sizes, and appear to all be sold out at source, except ONE COPY of the Tim Gick tape as I am typing. I hope it is gone now. Check for em on Discogs and stuff. You know the drill.
Juice Machine – Sparkling Water 5.2.17 by Mike Haley
A Google search for “Juice Machine, Sparkling Water” will mostly bring up Soda Stream and for-the-home, luxury juice making device related links. But if you keep digging deeper and deeper, all the way into the subbasement of Google (where they keep the really weird shit), you may finally happen upon a freshly squeezed C30 from the Portland duo Juice Machine called “Sparkling Water.”
“Sparkling Water” is the second release from LA-based label Steady Hand Records, it’s sounds extremely detached from refreshing sips of a carbonated Mango-Tango. On this recording the Juice Machiners – Heather Chessman and Roger Smith – anxiously fidget, pushing out primal electronic squeal and clanging metals, almost making noise in contention with each other. As if one member is playing Checkers and the other Guess Who (on an official noise table no doubt), the pair’s improvisations tumble together into a frustrated, low rent jumble. The battle for gnarled-psychedelic space is all in good fun, their ammo of twisting knobs is friendly fire after all, no matter how damaged the sounds become. And they get pretty damaged. Sonic stammers bounce all over this damn cassette, throwing themselves at low end galloping clunks and general nonsense. Noise!
If you hear this tape through the speakers of a beverage serving mall kiosk, run. Either towards or away – your call. In the meantime, head on over to Steady Hand and buy a copy.
Ding! Two orders of Rotifer up and ready for ingestion. The 99th and milestone 100th release from the label utilize contrasting zones and maneuvers to tantalize that state-of-the-art brain of yours, but both get the job done in their own special ways.
Handling burnished beats and borrowed sounds from the worlds of hip hop and soul is VV005, a Nevada City, CA resident with their first physical release “Lagrano Ruins.” The 42 minute debut is a collection of marginally modified samples, shuffled together into blurry, beat-based compositions. The cover image of juggler handling torches and blades (and a shark?) couldn’t be a more detached comparison to the mellow vibes held within. “Lagrano Ruins” is a total relaxer.
Back for a fifth round on the label is Estonia’s Ratkiller, the left field electronics project of Mihkel Kleis, full of ticks, caffeinated quirks, and squirmy, oddball movements. Ratkiller has a spirited way of bobbing around the audio color wheel, making pinning them down into a set category a difficult task. The sounds are consistently animated and interested though, that is for sure.
Both tapes are editions of 40 and available from Rotifer Cassettes in a silky smooth batch deal!
