The story waiting inside valves and string.
Found twig-like bundles of spiky top end slice while the lower depths deep slow note buzz, emulating the search – pushing towards aggression and take-over, yet each pulse and strike should be sporadic and calm. Almost at peace, but not quite.
Page one, typed:
Lines must go in and out, shaping an aluminum maze, they’ll circumvent the electricity, cracking the glass-like exterior to collect bottomless in a pool of minor acetate and liquid grain. Slow drip, slow climb in reverse gravitational pull. Data whispering for the reactionary, alone. Active.
Page two, typed:
Layered silence reveals the surreal curtain, lit-up and absent, intricately turning into form on the weathered stage in a solar unison of imaginative line-filling. Strummed sounds entangle with crisp-edged streams of greying option, hands instigating, instruments de-shell and unblacken, they’ll try to add colour.
Page three, typed:
Guitars and keyboards and percussive perplexities protest against regular symphony, their casings discarded for irregular weightlessness audibly lightweight and star-like against a black backdrop.
Page four, typed:
The particulars should bleed realism, hyper-narcotic, a late night disappearing act. A recorded novel taking shape over restless midnight hours and easeless dazing. Force it written to make sense of it.
When the master staves staple together, they scrappily introduce the aural story existential. Fiction under observance, pata-psych, meta-soundtracking, many principles at once, the trial and error notated in concrete headphone footnote. Stereo points of view.
This is a small tape issue of the original digital release by Missing Organs from June of 2014. It has been re-structured/re-mastered ever-so-slightly to suit the atmospheric magnetism. Limited to 50 tapes.
I loved this record when I first heard it. I wasn’t sure about the background or foreground, just thought the murky painting and sonic drama added a perfect glaze over hidden melody and sharp-tuned instrumentation. The one man behind the controls. It is literary and wordy beyond the tones and feelings, as if stoned by typewriter late at night.
The plot and first person awaken through the dreamt/re-dream musical situationism. It is the recording and the pieces involved making the hero come to life. It is story and protagonist.
Loner creativity spiralling for all types of time. The imagining parts of the brain mix with the rational, the crescendo is that life-art attack.
The digital is now housed here too, under the Power Moves Label singular pyramid, with thanks and kindness to Tristan.
This record confidently helps push open new realms for the label’s grasp and allegory. We’re ecstatic.
Hope you dig it!
Thanks for reading and listening!