beggar master / prayer flush : aaron dilloway

I have a photograph of Aaron Dilloway that was taken by my friend on November 11th 2004; the night Wolf Eyes played here at the Echo. The photograph is awkward because it’s of his backside, shoe, and reel to reel mostly. At some point during the show, my friend made her way to the side of the stage, climbed atop some table, and took the picture. This couldn’t have been an easy feat considering that the club’s walls were quaking & the audience had turned into a ocean of people with their fists pumping in the air. I know she did it because she felt she had to, and even though it doesn’t really capture the hypnosis he performed that night- I’m glad she did it anyways. If anything the picture serves as proof of the kind of performer that he is & the effect it has on the people who see him play.

I tend to get grief about truly believing some of the people I write about are special and do ‘this’ better than others. And maybe I could stand to be more eloquent & less obsessive, I guess it’s all objective.
My heart breaks at the thought of even trying to suffocate my excitement. Let me be the one to not keep it brief. I believe it deserves in depth analysis and high praise, lots of it too. Let records like these continue to keep me up into the next morning, trying desperately to articulate the thoughts spilling over and flooding out.

What I was trying to say is that I think Dilloway is special & does this better than most.
Beggar Master not only serves as proof of this but also as a starting point for what I feel is going to become a body of work that will continue to speak for itself.

Beggar Master starts off by working into you like a rusty scalpel; with just enough sharpness to cut you deep but not enough to keep things quick thus minimizing the pain & ultimately robbing you of the true experience. The sharpness is a temporary veil for the uneven rumble that follows & churns along, turning into a high pitched tone soon after. And even that is only given a moment to be so cleanly piercing & precise- the sound quickly becomes ‘sounds’ that move along by repeating in a pattern & picking up texture & grime as they go by. This is the death of that tone with the high pitch, in its place a feverish one is born and it infects everything in its path from there on out.
Beyond that is a factory tour- or what’s left of a factory that long ago was abandoned & subsequently forgotten. Machinery runs on clotted oil with a chemical make-up that’s mostly toxic by now. You are hearing conveyor belts whose rolling mats have long ago worn away & have left bolts grinding into gears and other metal parts. Nothing is shrill sounding but instead it’s heavy and looping. With increases in speed you hear rusted over wires cook into an electrical fire and pollute wildly. Even the slightest sounds are magnificently congested & dense.
When waves of sound tower and wash over you here they’re not waves but instead sludge-like ripples. They leave you heavy & coated in a murky film. Beggar Master is basement brewed & swamp soaked. It is layered & double-dipped; the moss has grown over but the composition & construction are not obscured as a result of this. Underneath every floor or sound laid down are details that still come through & a rhythm you can feel.
One last power surge and the sound is sucked shut.

Oh my, Prayer Flush…
Play this as loud as you can. In the middle of some nameless field or an asphalt lake with only those beams that connect all that wiring and nothing else around. A tunnel would be magnificent for this kind of thing as well.
Prayer Flush has a heavier hand, g. A swooping hand d-d-dripping in lighter fluid, ready to cup your face & cover your mouth.
To each set of ears their own but I can hear voices here. Voices seeping up through rotting floorboards and coming through like stretched out howls & yelps swelling with urgency.
Years ago they tried figure out what was making me so sick by giving me multiple spinal taps without administering adequate pain medication- I wish this side of the record could’ve been playing right then, at the exact moment that the broomstick sized needle tore through the skin on the small of my back.
Everything sounds as though it is taking place inside of this self destructing funnel of sorts; unraveling wildly- Machine gun sprayed sound clips and long hissing screams bid you a sweet farewell.
Prayer Flush is simultaneously brutal & serene; and a multitude of other things I cannot even begin to properly describe.


Beggar Master & Beyond; there is something about all his work that is totally transcendent.
In the footage from his performance at Wooden Octopus you can see how he vaults into the experience with reckless abandon. The way a wire is inserted into his mouth & throat like medical tubing; causing his cheek to balloon out slightly, transforms a completely insignificant action into something with so much more weight. Hunched over in his trademark style, he lunges from this state of bad posture into spellbinding physicality. None of his movement looks forced but instead internal & uncontrollable. There is an almost awkward quality to how his limbs jerk in random directions. It is like watching a man try to exercise a third spirit out of his body, as if only movement that abrupt & carnal could come from a body possessed.
In those last few minutes of the video, Dilloway’s body is whipping from side to side and his facial expression is violently strained.
Unfortunately these observations of mine are based solely on this video and I can only imagine what the intensity of his performance is like in person. Luckily, I only have to continue imagining until March.

Beggar Master & Prayer Flush are both paired here with beautifully raw images. Sketches of dream dates. The artwork is also placed in their partnerships with the actual sound pieces perfectly. Beggar Master does feel like you’re being carried away; while Prayer Flush is like coming back for revenge.

This is a Hanson release, pressed in an edition of 300 & dedicated to the GUT EATERS. Although it’s already sold out from Hanson; I believe it is or will be available from a few distributors.

Aaron Dilloway will be performing at No Fun Fest this year. More about him here.

these graves : devillock

There is a strange lot of questionable gentleman who seem to be steering their one member orchestras into this incredibly foggy territory. I’m afraid that ‘foggy’ doesn’t do the place they go to any justice but I will attempt to repent in the words to follow.
I got to ‘These Graves’ late it seems. I feel like I only got it into my hands after hearing how much everyone loved it & couldn’t stop listening to it. After finally hearing it thoroughly for myself, I felt like a bit of a chump for having lagged in getting a copy sooner. What I’d previously described as ‘foggy’ was an overwhelming understatement, mainly because fog clears & this, my dears, doesn’t.

The blood from is weirdly seductive. A seesaw of gurgling tones give way to sliced chirps and then buzzing wave obscures all that seamlessly. A looping murmur that sounds like it’s on the verge of rupturing from some kind of pressure is the foundation here. It travels freely at first, balanced and steady. Soon it is interrupted and the buzzing wave returns sounding like it’s trying to speak, get something through to you and for this task it’s adopted both piercing & abrasive qualities. The murmur remain forceful despite having to accommodate that wave; who has exchanged it’s piercing tones for boiled over static bubbling in & out of the composition. Everything dies down and it all ends pulsing rhythmically.

Brief title track. You’re only getting wrist deep in the sewage here. Luckily, before you can despair, you’re on to door number 3.

What brews here is something ill and incomplete. A tour of the city where you start in the sewers and finish in a landfill, as if this is what the itinerary had called for. The scenery you’re taking in is has been modified for your viewing. Instead of a landscape what you see is the rust spreading inside a rotting pipe. Everything has been scraped, peeled-down, & what’s left is almost nothing but just some faint echoes of what was.

This is somewhat extreme. I wonder about those of you who assemble sound so that it feels like this. From longing to put your arms around a woman’s waist to suddenly needing to put your hands around her neck. Where is the middle? ‘Weigh Forever’ is exactly just that. You leap into nothing and swim in the empty. It sounds like what hitting the bottom and perpetually sinking further & further must sound like.

I am enchanted by this completely. The louder you play it the more apparent how bleak & barren it is becomes. Anything that manages to capture this brand of numbness so exactly is golden in my book.
Remember having someone’s hand down your pants but not feeling anything and only knowing you were awake because from time to time you’d notice the streetlight change colour? Now that memory has its own theme song(s), sunken-eyed lullabies for heart just barely beating.
The ending to all of this is miniscule but sufficient. It drains until everything is muted.

All sounds (and art!) by Justin Meyers who is also the proprietor of the great Tone Filth label. This is a co release between SNSE & PACrec. I believe this is still readily available & you should definitely invest in a copy for yourself if you haven’t already. Also, for the fiends; this WILL be re-released on LP in the near future!

More about Devillock here .

SPECIAL MESSAGE FROM A MEMBER OF HEAVY SEALS:

i contacted Brace Paine and asked the question that's been stinging underneath my skin to be asked.

i asked him what it was like to spend time with John Wiese in a sleeping bag. just the two of them. just the two of them and a volcanic amount of sexual tension.

here, unedited, is brace's response...

"I had been hanging out a Johns house for a day or
two. I had noticed how beautiful his lips were. They
were so shapely, like two wett peaches ready to be
eaten, ready to be devoured. I quickly created a plan
that could get me closer to the sexual hunk that is
John Wiese. I said to him later that night, "hey John,
lets play a show and get in a sleeping bag together".
He seemed excited ,but little did he know how i felt.

We arrive at the show and John brings his sleeping
bag. When he is not looking i begin to lick the
sleeping bag, knowing that my lips had been where he
had once slept was filling me with intense feelings.

It is finally our time to play, so we struggle to
stuff ourselves into this sleeping bag. I am wearing a
sleeveless shirt and he is wearing his usual cute
t-shirt. I can feel his arms against mine, i can feel
his hair against my cheek. I feel so overwhelmed i
almost faint, but i pull it together to finish the
show. At one exciting point within the sleeping bag
his lips brush against my cheek. I have finally gotten
close to him. He is now mine forever. I have not
washed my cheek since then and i will NEVER wash my
left cheek, EVER!!! John Wieses' lips touched my
cheek! He is mine! He belongs to me! We will live
forever together in a hut made of mud and we will hold
hands constantly! No one can fuck with the love
betwixt the Xeaxx Xeaxx!"

am i jealous?

yes.

but the man who went there & felt that, is worthy of it.

heavy seals aka soul boyfriendz...

heavy seals, if you didn't already know (for shame !) is brace paine & john wiese. these two strapping young men come together to form what one might kindly describe as an ' untidy union '. like any good rock band or rap group these boys utilize their weird factor to the fullest; playing live never and rarely hanging out together. does this promote intrigue? fuck yes! who are they & what are they doing? questions that i hope remain unanswered 'til the end of time. answers are cheap & easy; normally two attributes i'm fond of but not when it comes to this type of thing. keep the mystery intact and i'll be yours forever. give me answers and you'll destroy everything i've learned to love. i don't know why this cd is & i don't know what it is. i don't care either way. listen to this and salute your inner creepy teenager. there doesn't have to be a reason for everything. play track two loud- yes, you are confused and it feels weird. you don't know what you're hearing and you're not even close to figuring it out. how do you enjoy this you ask? surrender yourself. only when you stop expecting some kind of an answer or clarification will you truly know what it means to be alive. this cd brings you one step closer. another piece to the puzzle you're never going to solve.


and now for the real shit...

this is brief. 11 tracks that are over before you even get to hear them. play this multiple times for the full effect to place. this is brief, but any longer would have defeated the purpose. not that there's really a purpose here, but more like an idea with an almost 16 minute lifespan. remember when you passed notes with the one other freak in your class who understood your pain and anger? this is what that's like. you half understand the message and you half don't but in the end you get what they're trying to tell you, but only if your their kind. the first half is uneven skips, scratches, & ttticks. there are blobs of nasty harsh sounds spread here & there. tender bursts that claw your face like only someone who loves you could. track 6 is LIVE. i wasn't there so this is the closest i'm ever going to get. that means a lot. someone is asked if they need to go to the bathroom and after they politely decline the show begins !they should play this track for people who are bothered by the sound of nails on a chalkboard. this is fucking NASTY. like if someone slayed a robot, pissed on it, and proceeded to drag it's dead & rusty body on the ground. the metal clashes with the concrete and your ears crucify themselves as a result.

i played track 8 for my friend's little brother in his backyard. a kid raised on metal & grunge he FREAKED ou when he heard this. not the good kind of freaking out either. all he could say was something like, " what the fuck, this is fucking bullshit, i want to hear the rest of this song, why do they keep doing that " ...i gave him no answers. he'll either learn the hard way or he just won't learn at all. the soundtrack for french kissing sessions on speed, the track employs a teasing quality that will you agitated and hungry for more. let the dissatisfaction motivate you do things you never would otherwise. kick in a car window or fuck that kind of gross but weirdly hot dude who bought you beer when you were 15 and asked for your mom's phone number. don't do it because it feels good, do it because it feels wrong.

i love this the most because there is absolutely no structure. no rhyme & no reason. this is because they wanted to. this is because they could. there is nothing to look forward to and nothing to regret.

track 9 is my favourite so far. it immediately made me think of the bbc's radiophonic workshop thus warming my heart to a near fever. even better when paired with track 10, play both repeatedly & let your ears try and pickup on everything happening.
the last track is for fans of abortions and loud shit. another live track, this time penetrated by the sickly charms of the person responsible for recording it. a perfect way to end a hot date, being raked over and scraped pink, red, & raw.

now to stray off topic- i'd like to direct this to the two musical soldiers involved in this project:to my knowledge heavy seals have only played live (i typed LOVE at first, omg...) TWICE. twice is not enough. or maybe it is but for the sake of my argument, TWICE IS NOT ENOUGH. so to both of you i offer my home for you to use as your stage. do this and you'll be set for life, not just as a band but as MEN.i'll leave it up to you two. you know how to contact me. don't puss out.

and to end this pile...
sir brace paine is responsible for how this looks. and it looks good. these boys bring the bears to you, what more could you ask for? albeit kind of scary bears that sort of stare up at you but other than that...everything looks remarkably fantastic.


brought to you by & available from troniks.

more about heavy seals here
& here.

yellow swans & the cherry point

a woman who does discovery at a westside law firm will forever hate this cd. for her it will always conjure thoughts of tripping backwards & stepping into a box of case files, damaging important paperwork in the process. she could've wiped out and fallen on her ass but instead she saved herself by grabbing hold of a desk chair, thus steadying her balance and preventing total humiliation.she had placed those headphones on with little or no thought behind the action and was expecting to hear statements, something so routine that she hadn't even bothered to take a seat to complete the task. poor girl. i was sitting nearby and it was incredible how the sound pierced right through the headphones and into the office, i had forgotten the disc in the drive it seems. hours after the incident had occurred she was still not talking to me, so i was really surprised when she stood right in front of me all of a sudden demanding to know what exactly that was. i tried to explain but she was convinced it was some kind of, uh, 'gag'. this is a woman who when she works in the conference room, will play the eagles or eric clapton because they help her 'chill out'. she told me later on that her ear canal felt ravaged for the rest of that day & night. i think it's safe to say her perception of me has been tainted. luckily our interaction is minimal, so everybody wins.

a collaborative effort that starts off by lunging at you with a furious velocity. you don't get a chance to do much more than blink before this track has you on your knees & deep in the violently gross wreckage. and on your knees is where you'll stay for the almost 19 minutes the track lasts. it is varied and layered, but never lets up. give up & give in. the three currents behind this pummel through you & drag you in. this is being overwhelmed at it's very finest, you surrender your struggle and sink to the bottom in a defeated stupor. there is no delivery here because delivery calls for consideration and this track considers nothing. it is a maliciously persistent piece that has little mercy for tender ears or faint hearts. there are no second guesses here. action is king and the action is nonstop. exploding slabs of sheet metal, sounds that mimic static frying and bubbling over. nonstop. for those who fancy a faster hand, you're in for a treat. not just fast hands but forceful hands. no means yes hands. nonstop hands. hands that push shards of ugly sounds into you & through you. if you favour being handled with a certain roughness, this is highly recommend. play it loud and get thrown around. the caustic symphony will mute your tender cries.

my heaviest applause is dedicated to the distinction & sustained momentum. for such a brutal piece there is so much texture & character. a lot of 'harsh' / heavy releases lose my interest quickly because they fail to go beyond volume & abrasive quality.here you are veiled in a variety of gunky electronics. vocals come through sounding like they've been bathed in basement acid. all of this pummels through you & while it does things change into brief ribbons of brewed sounds that pulse or ring. quickly things escalate and soon you're right back in red of the slaughter. all of this and not once is the momentum sacrificed. there is also a deeply creepy air about all of this. when it gets really terrible it feels as though all of these magnificent, vein-scraping sounds were manufactured in a cellar somewhere- water pipes clogged with rust & floor boards that don't creak but instead cry long & loudly. towards the end the distinction folds over and everything comes together. like a disease of the blood, all the sounds are dispersed throughout the body so that you can't locate the spot of contagion. steady & true to you from start, this closes with intensity just like it opened with it.

exquisitely addictive & heavily rotated. i am partially biased due to my love for both yellow swans & the cherry point being fierce, immense, and intoxicatingly consuming. together they are dreamy deluxe and hopefully there is more collaborative work released in the future.

recorded in 2004, live at camp blood. seems as though a select few, truly magical projects are reserved for recording there. camp blood is where noise sweethearts lodge & insanity thrives. i wonder what will come outta there next...one track long & perfect because of it. the artwork and design are equally spectacular. pocket that cash you were gonna score a hit of lsd with and just lie back & stare into the cover. that's right! you get to trip with your eyes AND ears. direct all notes of gratitude for the 'experience to' mr. jesse jackson(art) & mr. john wiese(design).

made possible by almost obscenely productive & free of facial hair(hopefully just a seasonal augmentation / trend...) troniks.

more about yellow swans here
more about the cherry point here.

and without further delay; tunnel birth...

the 'waiting room' period has concluded & you're all free to exhale now. tunnel birth seemed like it was caught in a state of limbo, not coming or going but drifting with no end in sight. coco chanel is rumored to have locked certain designs for multiple seasons in order to fine tune them to her liking & strict standards. every now & then she'd update the press with the status those mysterious garments, thus cultivating a brilliant marriage of anticipation & suspense.
although i doubt those were the intentions of the forces behind this release; it's dreamier to think of the delay in those terms than in whatever was really going on. luckily there is no room to dwell on things like time gone by. the hard work & effort have paid off & the result is your patience has been rewarded.

hive mind, in my opinion, gets through to a listener by embedding the sounds produced rather than enveloping the listener with them. both methods of delivery are equally significant and succeed in making an impact, but ultimately create different reactions in the listener. this release succeeds in not only getting under your skin, but in making the blood under said skin go hot with a raw & somewhat caustic approach.there is a roughness to these recordings that comes through hauntingly lush. the texture seemed to seep through my speakers as the record(s) played on.

the lp at 45rpm is, at this point, my favourite. i've been advised to play this at 33 rpm but for the first run I did it at the speed the record suggests. it is a congested & intertwined mass of rumbles, there are sweeping but chopped up tones, and an arrangement that at moments makes you feel like you're in the fold of a perpetually crashing wave. play this loud and feel the gravel churning inside of you, with an intermission here & there of high-pitched rays of sound cutting through. as the record plays on the rays are tailored into sickly chirps that pierce through with aching determination. an end is reached with the swollen roar deflating into a whisper that soon after dies.
on the flip side is a resurrection of the sickly chirp but here she's extended to play throughout the piece-resulting in her sounding like a fragment from a blown-out siren, but still retaining the tender pulse of her former chirp.the high pitched factor gets beautifully melted down by the deeper sounds threading themselves intricately into the composition. an exhausted engine overheated in midday sun thunders with a defeated fatigue to it's tone, solemn instead of ferocious. braided together everything is heavy and relentless, each aural character gorgeously compensating for the others flaw & sadness. the siren-chirp makes an early exit and the end and in doing so leaves the rumble to fade immensely, resulting in a low wind whipping into a quiet demise.

the second lp all together is more eerie & cinematic. one side sounds like traveling through a circular maze with no end in sight. first growing at a delicate pace, picking up velocity, texture, & hinting at something to come. hypertension is triggered as strength & volume increase, a furious static builds and is doubly potent with that uneasy tone whipping 'round right underneath. not for a weak or nervous stomach. it didn't make me sick but it grates on that nerve in a kind of way that implies fair warning.
when i said 'cinematic' i was mostly thinking about the other side of the lp. i'd like to strip a chaplin short of that wobbly piano bullshit and see how the story moved to this instead. the stirring with the thud-like pulse working below. the way that stirring gets more abrasive and a buzzing sheet of sounds snake in & out for a few moments. a stock silent film couldn't do this justice. the stirring changes into something uglier, like it found it's way into a pre-war furnace; all gloppy pops of burnt electricity. this is when the only way chaplin could keep up is if he sat down & scraped the pancake make-up off his face in one single frame shot. the track fades into a low winding tone & the scene ends in accordance w/ a traditional iris closing in on charlie's sad and pale face.

the double lp version of tunnel birth is the only version of this release i've ever heard. the past is the past. the previous formats are old ghosts i'll probably never meet. i think the decision to release this on vinyl was an excellent one. that roughness i spoke of earlier comes through so beautifully here. if it left bruises, you'd be tracing them with your finger in a heart-shaped motion for days. hive mind leaves it's mark once again.

housed in resplendently painted, gatefold style covers. the vinyl is a rusted golden yellow kind of colour w/ smoke stains that contrast perfectly. edition of 300. this incredibly involved & worthwhile release was made possible by the terribly charming & ever efficient troniks.

more about hive mind here.

i love you sad psychics

be still my heart. be still no more!
i felt like it would never get here but of course, it did.
i kept seeing it around but refused to look at it until it was my own copy that i was looking it.

it feels like it's been a long while since i last got a 7" by wiese and i really enjoyed sitting on my bed this time and playing it loudly like i have done with all my other 7"s by him.
it's silly process i have to go through in order to fully enjoy & absorb the music.
in playing the record i feel like i unearthed this pit of longing that had been buried & subsequently ignored. an unexpected cure to an almost forgotten ailment.

now onto the record!

blazer wrecks is a live track recorded on oct of 2003 in san diego. heavy, sharp, and expertly delivered- this piece is deliberate & doesn't waste any time. play repeatedly and play loud. october 2003 seems like a lifetime ago but this track is potent regardless. i dislike san diego immensely but there must've been something right in the air that night; allowing for this to come together so well. a worthy partner for sad psychics indeed.

curiously titled & with a funny air about it, 'sad psychics' arrives and immediately makes up for how quiet it's been on the wiese 7" front this year. the loud volume really works hand in hand with the sounds you are first presented here. smiling i listened to the TAP TAP TAP... & then fragments of plucking on strings or picking at strings or whatever method was executed in order to create those sounds. i'm immediately obsessed with trying to decipher what exactly it is that i just heard and my friend who is listening with me starts to pay close attention as well. there are these pauses that begin occur and last longer than you'd expect but they work really well and help create this very involved listening experience. cutting up sound and reconstructing the pieces is one thing. cutting sound up and constructing a composition that links fragments & slices of a variety of sounds together, so that it all comes together in this completely incredible way- that is something else entirely.
that is exactly what's going on here. the track builds and i follow it come together with a kind of stubbon fever. piece by piece passes and i try to hear how the former is linked to the forthcoming & etc. the experience might be different than those not quite as analytical & passionate about details. i just can't imagine hearing this and not feeling immediately curious about how it's all coming together.
the track starts of quite peculiar but rest assured that brutality will ensue. although i don't see that as a focal point for the piece, but merely a component. the force behind a composition like this isn't really in the volume, intensity, or texture of the sounds being created but at the pace which they're sequenced at instead. the pace here is hyper fluid & everything translates so much shaper because of it.
above everything else, sad psychics is really varied. in listening multiple times you hear all of these things going on & it makes the impact of taking it all in even more amazing. variation in sounds, stellar & detailed composition, and timing/pace, combined are the factors that make this release, quite simply; really fucking good.

i read someone say they wished the 7" had been longer. i understand the sentiment but don't really agree with it.
listen a little closer and try to understand how the format serves a distinct purpose.
both tracks remain under 6 minutes and in this they accomplish something kind of magnificent.
sad psychics at 4 min & 54 seconds is seamless in it's delivery.
play the track repeatedly and get your fix that way if you must. this record was born to be played obsessively; give in & indulge aurally.

of all my wiese 7"s, my attachment to sad psychics has formed the quickest. if my heart had grown distant in the time gone by waiting for new material in this particular format, this record made up for all of that.
the track stops, the needle slowly drags itself across the label and i'm back in love all over again. not to say that i ever fell out of love but you know how it is, a girl must be reminded of these kinds of things from time to time.

and lastly...

the cover image is really spectacular. distorted & abstract saxophonist who looks pretty into it from the little you can see of his facial expression. printed in a slightly demure shade of silver, which i think compliments the image perfectly.
sad psychics was manufactured in an edition of 500 on black vinyl with love by troubleman.
bad news is that this is sold out through troubleman.
my advice for those who really want a copy is to pursue ebay.

more about john wiese here.

Astromero...

trying to 'review' astromero feels really stupid. you can try, endlessly(and i am, believe me) to articulate what's going on in the 4 tracks / two discs; but ultimately, you just end up coming up short.

my music teacher in catholic school once told me, " there is music that takes up space, and there is music that creates & defines a space"; astromero is the latter. track 1 / disc one is stellar. it swells with precision for almost 11 or so whole min. you can spend the duration of those 11 min quite literally getting lost in the build-up. i think when it turns into something else, when the sound foams over and you are being introduced to different aural offerings one after another- that is when you're supposed to give in. what was subtle and seamless quickly morphs into something else and you can feel the pace of your heartbeat shift and your blood get hot. it is only the beginning, merely scratching the surface of what is something so much bigger. i won't write in depth about each track, that isn't the point of all this.

what i will say about track two is that my sister made me play it numerous times so she could hear damion's voice at the end. at first, she really didn't want to believe me when i told her it was him but she's pretty convinced now.

track 3 is the fucking mind melt. i wish i could curate a space for people to listen to this in. i did it outisde, at night, and while lying down. you should try this too, play it LOUD. there are no adjectives in the english language(what a dumb, simple language...) to articulate how this scrapes you raw internally. unless you are walking dead; you cannot simply hear this, you will FEEL it. this goes for both discs & all four tracks as well. this seeps deep and it is relentless, from the get-go. i want to play this track for everyone, crown them with headphones and watch them lose their mind. this piece goes on for 31 min and 49 secs. in that time atmospheres are constructed & deconstructed, the soundscape that has been composed is yours to navigate. the ending is my favourite- it is a pair of hands dragging their fingers through your lung chambers and ear canals, leaving you and fleeing outward. those last few seconds are tense, the exit is engraved and only when it stops are you given the opportunity to catch your breath.

disc two is one live track, recorded in tokyo & made by hiroshi hasegawa & carl farrow. those sounds were then treated to the loving hands & brain of damion romero. the result is magnificent. multiple layers of sound, sheets & sheets that dissolve & evolve beautifully. in moments, there is a brutality present that has to be heard in order to be understood; like getting yr wind knocked out followed by getting dragged across the floor. you are submerged by listening, and i am deeply jealous of those who were in attendance at this show. i really like that this is on a disc all by itself, very appropriate.

the combined force of hiroshi hasegawa & damion romero cannot be conveyed via the written word. you need to hear this. my writing doesn't do it justice, whatsoever. although, i do hope that in writing this- i've inspired your decision to purchase it so that YOU can have the experience for yourself.

in addition to the stellar music- is the equally PERFECT packaging. aesthetics fiends play close attention..two discs housed in a white tin case w/ artwork folded neatly inside; star-kissed w/ a beautiful colour scheme. immaculate. and what i've come to expect from all things P-tapes.

this is a co-release between P-tapes & Troniks; 10 yrs in the making and finally available . click here to order / learn more.

also available from the magical noise castle called Groundfault.

NEXT: neil young discusses more of his favourite records. ok, not really 'neil young'-
but i will definitely be wearing flannel / not have washed my hair in a while when i sit down to type about uh, more stuff!