Scant – At Fault
7.11.17 by Mike Haley

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.

New Batch – Castle Bravo
6.15.17 by Mike Haley

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.

New Batch – Rotifer
4.26.17 by Mike Haley

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!

Cabo Boing – Blob On A Grid
4.25.17 by Mike Haley

It’s understandable to wonder, perhaps at length, what alternate plane of existence “Blob On A Grid” leaked from. Surely it wasn’t created in this one. Yet it was, that is precisely Haord Records‘ bag after all. From the totally bugged-out assortment on their “Haord’s Bunchla” compilation to the sugary peculiarity of Macula Dog, Jimmy Sanchez & His Crystal Balls, Jake Tobin, and others, Haord have been turning over rocks in caves and climbing to the top of the tallest truffula trees in search of audio extraordinariness. Their latest disclosure is a dozen bounca-whirl songs from Cabo Boing.

If Mark Mothersbaugh had the gumption he would have made “Blob On A Grid” years ago, and it would have soundtracked many a Pee Wee’s Playhouse episodes. Not a single second of it’s eccentric no-wavery antics wouldn’t cozy right up on Chairry’s fluffy cushion. That is fact, not opinion, and in no way open for debate. In reality it was made by Brian Esser of the synth duo Yip-Yip. If we are being honest with each other, and I think we should, I like it much better that way. Splashy imagination is smudged wall-to-wall, no way cowering in the corner, playing coy, only poking out every now and then. It is on full display – nay – on overload. These tunes are dayglo and chafed from perpetual movement. As each track ends, sometimes in under a minute’s time, quick contortions take place so the next can unload it’s enthusiastic energy. Unabashed friskiness scampers into perplexing modes, all pitched-vocals and jagged electronics jerking in unison, backlit by colorful, dynamic textures ready to tweak at a finger’s snap. Get happy.

The visual presentation is a foolproof manifestation of the audio, one that I mentioned here.  I shan’t bore you any longer with details. You should be buying a copy of this now!

Cassette Label or Weed Strain?
4.20.17 by Mike Haley

For the third year in a row we present the Cassette Label or Weed Strain quiz! Sativa? Indica? Cobalt? Chrome? Try to figure it out by clicking “Start Quiz” and deciding whether the names you see are tape labels or weed strains.

[WpProQuiz 5]

Interlaken – Versaux
4.19.17 by Mike Haley

You may be familiar with Chris Donofrio from his solo work as Reviver, or as a member of the duo Arabian Blade. For his debut cassette under the moniker Interlaken, Donofrio has traded in nightmare crunch for marshmallowy patience. “Versaux,” a C30 which is also the debut release for German label Seil, is glazed over with this newfound ambiance, a slow-swishing liquid of sound.

Side A is the calmer of the two. The handful of tracks that make it up maintain a fleecy flow over their 15 minutes. Cashmere patterns layer and web together with a relaxed consensus. No shimmer or gleam attempts to outdo another. They are all total buds that really want to share space on the magic carpet that is being weaved. Side B leans slightly into a zone of more spirited maneuvers, but remains absolutely chill. It opens with a sound mandala swirling around persevering thumps before offering up a an extra crispy synth fantasy, full of illuminated sequences and bassy, jutting tones. While those two cuts don’t exactly sport the same waxy patina as the earlier songs, they still feel right at home. A foggy, evaporated soundscape, as if someone dubbed a dub of a dub of a slowed down version of the Twin Peaks theme song, takes us out of the Interlaken experience. And here we are, left wanting more.

copies of “Versaux” were dubbed up and available from Seil Records.

Korean Jade – Exotics
4.10.17 by Mike Haley

Cloaked in low-res black & white conceptual imagery, with perhaps a small visual nod to “Pulse Demon” by Merzbow, comes “Exotics.” This seven cut C30ish by Korean Jade acts like a medicated liniment. It’s flexible drones and swerving patterns rub on like a lotion, but with enough coarseness to cause friction and heat when applied. I don’t know who is behind the Korean Jade name, but whether they were going for beauty trapped in crud, or crud trapped in beauty, they got there. Like the artwork, the sounds on “Exotics” also have a low resolution, lending a satisfying matte finish to the overall production. The occasional scaly tail of mutant techno will take a swipe at ya here and there, but it’s bread and butter is synths bending and blinking in a thick fog. Don’t fear! It’s reassuring fog. Not a too scary fog like from that movie The Children I watched when I was far too young.

A white shell with a single black smudge of black paint rounds out the colorless presence of “Exotics,” a more than decent offering of crisp ambiance awash in graininess. Grip one of the 30 copies dubbed from Plush Organics.

Unguent – Simulation Of A Bat Engulfed In Acid
3.30.17 by Mike Haley

I haven’t watched an episode of Fraggle Rock in a few decades, so I had to hit up MuppetWiki for a reminder of what those tiny green worker things were called. My guess was Goobers, but I knew that wasn’t right. Doozers is what they are called. In case you need a refresher, or have never seen Fraggle Rock before, Doozers are an all-work/no-play race of 6″ tall creatures heavily invested in the field of construction. They spend their days building structures out of Doozer Sticks (thin, transparent rods made of radish dust) that the Fraggles can’t control themselves from eating, which is a total dick move when you think about it for a split second.

I bring that up because “Simulation Of A Bat Engulfed In Acid”, the new C40 by Unguent on Refulgent Sepulchre, sounds like it was made by Doozers. Getting past the clear shell, obviously fashioned from Doozer Sticks, the sounds are totally Doozerish. You’re immediately nudged and pricked by a shoveling of pint-sized zaps, most of which existing only to sting your tush then belly flop back into the couch cushions. At times it’s almost a menacing experience, like… Why is this tape doing this to me? Basically a random splurge of circuit shoving that sometimes sounds like the tape is shaving itself into ribbon. The only breather from that pixel blast is when the bloops and screeps gang up to create spurts of gummy patterns; Doozer dance-off’s possibly? I don’t know, but I like it a good deal.

It should be noted that this tape was NOT created by Doozers, but instead a Philadelphian by the name of Lance who also runs Refulgent Sepulchre. Lance was kind enough to make 100 copies of  “Simulation Of A Bat Engulfed In Acid” and a few other killer releases, all available here.