Running Point – The Mic’d Time-Scene

Armed with two handhelds: the microcassette and cassette recorders flash broken-stream reds and blurred spotty static speaker blow-up on top of winter sound. A clean condenser intensifies the samples on lamp-lighting duty and the paper corners turn in.

Avoiding the surface capture.

Going to work. Working.

Immediacy lost in thinking-wonder. Waiting to strike, declaration/clarification of the specifics, the specs are only here-now. Go out and find the lungs.

A freezing temperature blast and wind-worn walk subtracts the warmth in-home with bullet and tape. No counters for the unused radio dial’s turn of extra-hiss. The greying-black of white noise in the covered room with empty reception bleeds everything together. Outside and in, all mirrored the same. Furnace plugs along in stomp pedal timing. Cold air and the lake convert the amplifier into trains rumbling underneath. Rhythms ignored for their psychogeographical counterpart.

Erasing the own, a century-turning windscreen protects real time from the made:

Part one, documentation through tape-roll and manipulation.

Part two, chance and accidental/guess-work collage.

What can’t be found is the time-scene objective. Go back and find it through cut-up. Realize that’s the imagined end-point that will forever elude.

The left-behind represents the mystery and the original self, the original vision.

What’s the microphone listening to when sleeping?

Where’s the original self?

This is the second half, Side B, of the split with Cahill Locksmith – Starter Kin, 012.

Tapes limited to 30 copies coming soon.

Both albums clock in at a hair under 36 minutes and seem like a nice pairing.

Guitars work out existential problems of spatial folk and circumstantial collection. Microphones perk/peak to differing realities, instruments in ultimate-silencer-tunings slice the air.

Where Locksmith dabbles in brother twos/blues and patient ellipsis, Running Point battles the many selves in observed/pragmatic time with implied technique.

The two sides of our living coins.

Hope you dig it …

Thanks for listening and reading,
Kev

Sloom’s Mix Tape #1

Tape transfer granule drop, the Luxman with touch to dust sincerity loading and underpin bedding. Specific type: specific recollections/imprinting for turning digital to grain. Sanded down in pleasure-molecule contemplation.

No rain imminent in clear sun lookout until formed clouds roll in.

Boiled down to gas and fume, breathe/intake the memory lapse turned coloured air in a lonely head-space, in stereo-rattled inner-ear change-over. An analogue chemistry set charting the positional mapography of sleeping big-cities. One cylinder pours the closeness into another.

Escaping haze.

Hidden grit underneath time-treble hit and hiss. Buried in noise reductionism, a curious layer, the rewarded side effect guides the proceedings. Map-points merging/submerging. Pin-points threaded in pinched hubs, place-names occurring to calculate space and new-turning distances. Attenuated soundtrack work, night cars and pitch-blackness through artificial shine, building speed then gridless. Nowhere drives and small-moments writ large.

And a hot sun blazing.

Now we have the master on the other side of the horn. The ear now looks out.

This a gifted collection of blanketed aura iron-out and windows-down tempo pulse from James A. Toth, our usual in-house master technician.

Here, he removes the white hat and takes the long, treed road chasing the warmth and the experiment in tone and technology.

Tape manipulation, part of the mixing process, printing/creating new textures, allowing the decay and compression to spindle appropriate melody, the add-on/dump-down schemata holds the stamp. The flashes break the horizon’s long-distant view, it moves ever-closer with the heat turning, lighting the propel. Small, irregular clock-wise rollers collecting and disseminating new data in an almost instant compositional-like poise and lacquer.

The drifting, shouldering weight/less suspension.

A terrific mix of dream and wake-up. Moving and sitting still.

Limited to 30 tapes, coming very soon.

Thanks for listening and reading!

Hope you dig…
Kev