Experiencing Vinyl #2

There's this amazing story about Bertrand Russell's initial reaction to Ludwig Wittgenstein's Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. Rumors circulating in print and philosophy departments for decades suggest that, upon completing Wittgenstein's groundbreaking philosophical work, Russell took his own current work on epistemology and logic and threw it in the trash. The story goes, with Wittgenstein effectively addressing a series of questions about language and knowing, and presenting an approach that simultaneously grabs logical and mystical methods, Russell closed up shop and promptly began work on political and ethical problems. The idea was, academic philosophy was some sort of progression of specific questions that could be addressed, and, presumably, answered; upon answering those questions, Wittgenstein's work closed doors for other philosophers. Russell's new work in ethical and political issues would find a world much more malleable and less concrete working area than the atmosphere for logical philosophy in the early 20th century.

This story has been running through my mind lately, as I think of different traditions and mixtures of sounds jumping through my speakers. What captures my mind is the extreme difference between music and philosophy as exercises of the soul -- whereas philosophy, in our culture, is addressed as a closed series of questions with objective entries that are considered through their manner of submission and then logically questioned and dissected through further literature, music engages traditions through unfolding, from the creative acts that result in artifacts that we consume and judge, to the spiritual energy and attitudes that invoke emotions, allow us to recall experiences, and exercise our memories. Music criticism often misses this mark -- there is an academic aspect of criticism whereby writers log each and every record, influence, or attitude that stands behind a release. In this regard, records are cut off at the level of artifacts, and our consumption of those records are turned into a type of intellectual criticism that finds each record literally as such: an entry, a record of sound, a development in a tradition.

Yet, experiencing psychedelic music following Can, The Byrds, The Velvet Underground, My Bloody Valentine, etc., or any other genre you might think of, is not the same as working on philosophy after, say, The Critique of Pure Reason. We don't simply go to work at the university and track different entries of logical questions and criticisms of knowledge in journals and classrooms, or train minds according to these paradigms. No. We breathe it -- we crank it, we let it run through our bodies, we let our souls run wild through its repetitions. While it might be true to write things like, "Lorelle Meets the Obsolete captures the sensuality made possible in psychedelic music by The Raveonettes' version of Jesus and Mary Chain's repetitions," that does little to capture the breathtaking energy of their most recent release (or, any of the recording artists involved in that sentence). Music is much more than entries into catalogs of tradition and critical responses in journals; in this regard, our subjective experience must go beyond the basic understanding or logic of influences, past labels, scenes, etc. Philosophy of music is rather impossible; music criticism, then, is something else.

***

Over the years, Permanent Records Chicago / Los Angeles has done a particularly good job of unearthing original stock releases from old record labels or individual artists, and I was intrigued by one of those projects late last year. In town for a vacation (I think), I marched to Permanent and requested an original stock copy of End Result's Ward EP (Ruthless). Aside from the experience of gripping a completely new, unplayed piece of wax that's almost as old as me (I have yet to purchase "mint" records from the 1960s or 1970s. Maybe when I win the lottery or something), the music was a completely unexpected blur of distorted tirades and boisterous horns. I mistakenly expected a hardcore record, or some kind of really up-front noise or blistering punk; instead, I found bold creation, the type of boundless music that many cite but few actually allow. There's a certain threshold, I feel, even when people write about bands that go "beyond the limits" or "play without bounds." End Result demolish that threshold. I suppose some might just scratch their heads or call it crap, but then again, the horns, the unhinged vocals, it's all there for a reason. We are mistaken if we allow ourselves to believe that meaningful or purposeful music must be structured.

I became particularly interested in the EP thanks to an obsession with Ono's Albino (Moniker) LP -- their visionary rhythm and blues shone through the experimental elements of their sound, placing much more emphasis on sharp, visceral beats than most outsider music. Specifically, the prominence of the vocals suggested a certain "pop" feeling about the production of the affair -- if you allow yourself to focus too much on the noise and execution from the players, you'll forget that this is spiritual music; this is vocal music. Keeping the vocals up encouraged a shamanistic relationship between the leader, the band, and the listener. Call and response, a stomp, righteous, rather than vengeful, noise: it would be so easy to get lost on the surface here, but if you dig deep and allow your soul to be guided, you will find the urge to dance, you will find this amazing empathy. I been changed -- that's not a question between the players and the listener, that's a statement from experience. It is a subjective fact, rattling through your entire being.

Yet, this End Result record keeps coming back to me, and so does the Ono LP, as I finally experience Rojo by Obnox (Permanent). In Cleveland, we commuted via bike to work, nearly every single day -- summer or winter, rain or shine. What you need to know, when listening to albums by people from Cleveland, is that there are these grand infrastructures that rule the city. The city was built for many more people than currently inhabit the place. There is complete freedom in that, in a way, in that the city is there for your taking; and yet, on the other hand, there is broken glass, every damn day, in the bike lanes. Without fail, it doesn't matter how the weather is, there will be broken glass in your bike lane. Practically the only bike lanes in the city -- during the time we were there, anyway -- were on these gigantic bridges that took commuters from either the east or west side of the city, across the Cuyahoga River, across the industrial valley. The city was in layers, unfolding beneath the bridges, houses and bars in the Industrial flats, small neighborhoods sprawling all out from these grand infrastructures. There's a real Institutional Disconnect on the East Side of the city, too, where grand University buildings and Museum campuses are barricaded a boulevard away from vacant buildings, houses clearly excluded from the strengths of those institutions. Don't get me wrong, there are people working on some solutions to housing and development issues in Cleveland, but the point is, there is a lot more class division visible to the eye. It's not like Chicago where, for the most part, the grand centers of commerce and culture are generally removed from blight. In Cleveland, vacancy is everywhere, if only because the infrastructure is in a daily battle against the number of people that live there.

This spirit just runs through Bim Thomas's solo work, in that it's as real as glass shredding your tires in the bike lane, it's as strong as the greatest infrastructures of rock'n'roll, and it's as fucking free as all the blight and vacancy and beauty and violence and love that comes from living in the unsupervised shadows of grand infrastructure. There is not a shred of noise that is out of place on Rojo, and as Obnox, Thomas's percussion work takes his hardcore lessons from This Moment in Black History and Puffy Areolas and simply explodes it beyond the wildest outbursts of even those bands. Not unlike the Ono album, Obnox's work places rhythm and percussion at the forefront. THANK YOU, someone understands that this is rock'n'roll. At the end of the day, that's just how I feel about Ono, and that's how I feel about Obnox, too. These artists are producing unbelievably spiritual music that resonates with their locales, their eras, their legacies; it is tense like freedom fighting against coercion, it is optimistic like love against violence, and it is emancipatory like rhythm and creation against stasis.

***

At the turn of the new year in 2012, I rearranged my records in alphabetical order. Previously, I had one box of "pop" records, and one box of "other" records. This ensured that if I wanted a Lumerians record, I wouldn't mistakenly grab a Cyndi Lauper record (there's an argument somewhere that if you like 1980s music, Lauper made one of the pinnacle pop records, like, almost up there with Let's Dance by Bowie. And if you don't like Lauper or Bowie (or, more fairly, Let's Dance), that's fine -- more Cyndi Lauper records for me. I can't even claim that purchase, btw, someday I need to write an, "LPs my wife purchased that I didn't even know I liked." Sometimes great and unexpected music stands in your blindspots). Anyway, now all my albums are in order.

The honest truth is, I've been trying to find ways to put together words to review Jacco Gardner's Cabinet of Curiosities (Trouble In Mind). 2013 is the year of Chicago, first and foremost, where all those fine people making outsider music, producing outsider music, and releasing it, flex their muscle and show San Francisco that, really, we've got some crazy shit in our water out here, too. One of the best arguments in the Chicago vs. San Francisco argument in 2013 is simply the sheer output by Chicago-related labels. Trouble in Mind is one such label. Gardner's release is his debut, and the talented multi-instrumentalist produces largely key-driven pop songs that are complete fantasies. Not dreamlike or hypnogogic, like repetitive music, but fantastical in sheer production -- there's an unending brightness to the production, which is especially effective in displaying Gardner's extended chord progressions and minor-chord excursions.

Filing the record away is a fantastic reminder of how musicians can revisit strands of different traditions without being bound my logic, or they can revisit previously recording paradigms and perfect the assumptions that formed those paradigms. Specifically, I get to file Gardner's LP among Capitol psych monster reissues by Gandalf (s/t) and The Food (Forever is a Dream), as well as The Folk Implosion (Dare to be Surprised; Communion), and The Fresh & Onlys (this analogy stops at Echo & The Bunnymen and Bruce Haack. Sorry). Aside from asking whether bands with names filed under F and G make more interesting psych-pop records than bands with names under the other 24 letters, it strikes me that Gardner succeeds with assumptions that The Food and Gandalf didn't ever get to perfect (due to break-ups, marketing inefficiencies, shifting consumer attitudes, or something like that). Gardner records psychedelic music that is lush and orchestral, but it is not ever over-bearing. It maintains a lightness and sharp-attitude that the Capitol psych monsters don't always have (some of their symphonic studio arrangements are really interesting, but sometimes it's less rock and more heavy-handed or "psych for future ages" kitsch). On the other hand, Gardner uses extremely straightforward song structures, not unlike The Fresh & Onlys, but he seems to pack more into those structures, in terms of plot, storytelling, and chords. While The Fresh & Onlys make music that is more intense than Gardner's, Gardner captures a type of pop sensibility that is lurking beneath The Fresh & Onlys and realized on Cabinet of Curiosities. Of course, I could be making all this up because it's not immediately apparent while listening to either band that Gardner or Fresh & Onlys share a common thread; but, it's a fragment of a thought or feeling I got when filing records away. Hmmm...

***
One last trip on key-driven psych. In a completely different direction, Moonrises' Frozen Altars (Captcha  -- another "Year of Chicago 2013" breakout label) LP blasts dissonant, fuzzy dirges over in-the-box rhythms thanks to a swinging key and drums section. Unlike a lot of psych albums, the drums on this album sound like they're based around the snare much more frequently, than say tom-heavy build-ups or crazy fills. On Ben Baker's foundation, Libby Ramer's keys are omnipresent, presenting a strangely mellow vibe (I say strangely simply because the album ends up meandering to extremely intense and noisy places), a kind of steady coolness amidst the greatest storms. This key and drums foundation frequently offsets Plastic Crimewave's guitar attacks, which sound more intense and dissonant thanks to the execution of the rhythm and keys. Frankly, this is a sound where all players could have pummeled into oblivion, and given their individual talents, they could have made a good record doing that, too. But, the swinging rhythm offsets the squalls from the guitar, and when they all kick-in together, the moments are more intense because of their restraint in other places. Moonrises almost feels as jazz as it is psych, for its offsetting lead and rhythmic elements, as well as its moodiness.

Plastic Crimewave's guitar sound follows very similar timbres, in some places, as his tone on the Djin Aquarian & Plastic Crimewave Sound collaboration, Save The World  (Prophase). One of the striking features of his tone on Moonrises is that it is a direct fuzz sound, without the appearance of egregious effects mashing (not that there's anything wrong with stomping on pedals, but sometimes a well-done fuzztone is all the world needs). Anyway, there's this reverb sound that appears on both albums, one that is simple regeneration or short, slapback echo. It's such an ear-catching sound, because it makes the fuzz sound HUGE. Now, I wasn't certain if it was Plastic Crimewave playing those sounds on Save The World, but a similar regenerative, short echo appears on Moonrises. It's a strong effect, given the simplicity of elements and rhythmic execution of the record.

The N.E.C. In Chicago!

April 23 and April 25, there are two events in Chicago with the N.E.C.:

April 23, Permanent Records
The N.E.C. in-store
5 PM, free

April 25, Beauty Bar
The N.E.C., D.J. Moniker
10 PM, free

This event features psych/rock group N.E.C., part of the rich Atlanta rock scene, and D.J. Moniker, of Moniker Records and Permanent Records. D.J. Moniker will be spinning psych, kraut, punk, and everything in-between, and the N.E.C. will be bringing their driving brand of smart, indulgent psych.

The N.E.C.
Double Phantom
Moniker Records
Permanent Records

Cinchel at Tomentosa

I know it's been a while, but there is going to be an excellent cassette on the way, and in the meantime, Cinchel tapes remain at Tomentosa. Check it out:

Tomentosa 'Spective Audio

I am definitely sold out of Cinchel tapes. There are copies remaining at a couple Reckless stores, Permanent Records, Tomentosa, and I believe the artist himself still has a few....

Featured release at Permanent!

Our releases are now on sale at Permanent Records, and the gang over there is featuring The N.E.C. and Sunny Muffdivers in their updates this week!

Cinchel's drone.dump is on sale for $5.99 over there, and Sunny Muffdivers and The N.E.C. are $4.99.

Check it out!

From the Permanent Records email update:

Tape - Sunny Muffdivers - All Half Evil (C26, Translucent Neon)

Pay no attention to the silly band name, this tape totally rips. Sunny Muffdivers is from Hotlanta and according to their Myspace page they "are here to send you somewhere you may not want to go". Maybe some people don't want to go to this place, but we absolutely do. The place they're speaking of is the homeland of repetitive, noisy psychedelic ROCK! We imagine that most of you would also like to go to there. Spective Audio is off to a great start as a recently established tape label. Here's what they told us about this one:

"Psych sludge doom. Pure sonic assult from Atlanta, inverting relationships between fuzz and rhythms throughout the four pieces on this cassette. Unrelenting drums and blistering fuzz create spaces for your mind to hide - this one is equally psychological and psychedelic."

We'll agree with that completely. Fans of repetitive dirges and krauty psych will totally love this tape. It's one of the most vinyl-ready tapes we've heard in a while.

Tape - NEC - B-Sides (C45, Tinted Red)

Spective Audio has another hit on their hands with this NEC tape. Here's the scoop from the label:

"The N.E.C. split the difference between the ambient and heavy sides of Atlanta's Psychedelic scene. Between their driving fuz and soul sensibilities, the band drone, meander, and layer their journey, offering signposts that are equal parts noise and pop."

Yet again, Spective is totally right on. This tape also rules!


A big thank you to Permanent for putting these on their site, and a big thank you for carrying these tapes. Go check 'em out!

2010: Back Catalogs and New Releases

As year-end lists are beginning to roll in, I've encountered one of the issues that I faced all year: what on earth was I trying to do with my record collection this year? This year was the first year that I've had a record player for several years, due to a series of moves and circumstances that made collecting records impractical for a time. Subsequently, I had the pleasure of buying all of the new releases I wanted on vinyl for the first time in ages, but I also had the sometimes daunting task of determining which aspects of my back catalog I wanted on wax.

I frequently asked myself, "why am I doing this?" My urge to buy records often turned into a curatorial ideology, whereby I followed specific trends in new music with loads of records that were released decades ago. Perhaps where others have inherited record collections from various people or parents, and therefore had some pre-existing classic template to work from, I had no such template, which resulted in a year in which I built my collection from the ground up.

While I was working on this unruly beast, I revisited various phases in my music history, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. My wife and I invested in a series of records that we both really liked over the past decade, picking up most of Nada Surf's eccentric pop catalog as well as the brand new Tegan and Sara boxed set. "Turn of the century" collectible pieces also showed up, such as the first two Capitol releases by the Dandy Warhols, which were in fact released by independent labels in their vinyl format.

As my music listening habits gravitated between heavier psychedelic music, as well as ambient and more experimental shades, following my obsession with the Implodes cassette in the previous year, I indulged in reissues by My Bloody Valentine and Spiritualized. Late in the year, I stumbled upon the Acid Archives guide, which truly opened my mind to various fronts of homemade psychedelic and folk records, as well as bizarre major label traditions that sit firmly under the radar of the mainstream pop canon -- the Capitol "psych monsters" were perhaps the most-mind-blowing discovery in this regard, and I learned that I do not need to purchase independent labels exclusively in order to find independent music.

More than anything, I embraced the local bands of Chicago in 2010, buying records from my favorite psych bands here and listening to them almost non-stop at points.

I learned throughout the year that no matter how coherent my musical vision, my purchasing habits will often be completely random, spurred by the fact that when you're rifling through the record store bin-by-bin, you will friendly find records that you had completely forgotten about, or at least forgot that you were looking for. At the end of the year, my first year of record collecting, I can say that I learned an awful lot, and really, I am looking forward to years of discoveries and the excitement of placing a perfectly new piece of wax on the turntable.

The Common People Of..., by..., for.... Although I truly enjoyed the Spiritualized reissue, and the Black Math reissue by Permanent Records was welcome and done well, the orchestrated suite that opens Common People's "lost" Capitol Records release is stunning in its beauty and orientation to the psychedelic years that passed prior to the record's late-1960s release, and before the progressive/psychedelic years that would follow. While the remainder of the record can be hit-and-miss, propelled by a grab bag of sometimes unfocused folk and garage styling, the psychedelic passage that opens the record is completely on the mark, and it opened my mind to a time when psychedelic music was not necessarily fuzzy, but could also be orchestral.

Kaki King, Junior. There are a number of releases that I was completely surprised by this year, including Darker My Love's Alive As You Are record, but I keep coming back to King's tuneful record of broken-hearted songs. The production is dark enough to convince the listener to become introspective while listening to King's voice, and the often dense-but-direct instrumentation conveys that mood even further. Emotional without being exploitative, cheesy, or whiney, King evokes strong moods in their truest form (in this regard, I find it to be a perfect sequel to Tegan and Sara's The Con. I have to admit, I picked this one up on a whim after reading an intriguing review in the Chicago Reader, and I really wasn't expecting this release to win me over, and despite my knowledge of King's guitar virtuosity, I had no idea she possessed such a wonderful sense of songcraft. I will carry this release with me for a long time.

Thee Oh Sees Warm Slime. Gaaaaaahhhhh, it never stops with these guys, and honestly, if they put out one record a month I would buy it without any questions asked because this group absolutely owns the "garage psych" tradition and they have a severe knack for making completely familiar records that you've never actually heard before. Frankly, I think they're better than the Beatles, given that they evoke the raw energy of straightforward pop song structures and psychedelic atmosphere in a manner that is as direct as the Fab Four, but without all the decades of mainstream consumerist bullshit and cultural theory. Months ago, I told a friend that the Beatles are to Thee Oh Sees as Bill Haley and His Comets are to Big Joe Turner re: "Shake, Rattle, and Roll." The Beatles are undoubtedly one of the greatest rock bands ever, but their version of rock is primarily built upon a critique or interpretation of the culture of rock'n'roll itself, and it is no longer an immediate experience of rock. In the same way that Big Joe Turner will always be more immediate and relevant than Bill Haley (no offense), Thee Oh Sees are more immediate and relevant than the Beatles, who nevertheless are championed as cultural masters of rock. I don't want any more cultural theory of rock. No! No! No! And that doesn't mean that I won't go out and buy 100 more copies of the new "Paperback Writer" b/w "Rain" single whenever I find them, it just means that I am finally able to separate the theoretical and consumerist gains that the Beatles have made from their actual songwriting contribution -- great, of course, but no longer the greatest. You can take anyone other than Ringo, I'll take Dwyer any day of the week and twice on Sundays.

Lumerians Burning Mirrors. What on earth is going on in San Francisco? As if it wasn't enough to host Thee Oh Sees and the Wooden Shjips, there seems to be characters like Ty Segall and The Fresh and Onlys and Darker My Love (sometimes) emerging every couple of months or so with exceptionally raunchy, raucous, or just plain fun records. As much as I enjoyed the Bitchin' Bajas/Moon Duo split released by Permanent on Record Store Day, and as much as I enjoyed the first Beatles wax in a very long time (Paaaaaperback Writer!), this here 7" by Lumerians is my favorite of the year, for no other reason than that nasty fuzz tone and drums intro, and freaky sounds that follow. Just as fun as Wooden Shjips and with all the calories, too!

The Fresh and Onlys "Who Needs a Man." While we're on the subject of exceptional San Francisco releases, I have to say that of all the songs I've heard buried within all the sides I've heard this year, this song is absolutely my favorite mid-side song this year. First off, the band completely deconstructs a portion of the riff for Metallica's "Seek and Destroy," improving on that one by making it cleaner, more precise, and waaaaay more groovy. Cool intro, percussive rhythm guitar, hypnotic vocals, marry me! This record honestly surprised me, too, and crisp pop songs such as this one really get me going. Fresh and Onlys are the Reigning Sound of 2010.

Offstrings compilation. File this under, "records you probably have not heard but should." Dan Burke, a veteran of the experimental/noise scene in Chicago over the past three decades under the moniker Illusion of Safety, works with my close friend Travis Bird in a guitar duo that worked on the experimental circuit around Chicago this year. He curated this compilation with other notable Chicago guitarists, including Daniell and Shippy, other veterans of Chicago's experimental avenues. The result in this package is a series of ethereal instrumentals, diverse according to the individual playing styles of the artists, thematically linked through their textures and theoretical approaches. I know that there are heavy hitting experimental records by others in Chicago this year, including Bitchin' Bajas and Ken Camden on the guitar front, and many more I have not named, but this is one compilation I keep returning to due to its timbre, textures, and room for emotional reflection (one of my favorite features of good noise music).

Frankie Rose and The Outs; Deerhunter Halcyon Digest. Needless to say, I was excited to hear the new Deerhunter, waiting for months in anticipation to hear the new one, which had hype that matched the songwriting output. Production on the new record seems more direct than past Deerhunter records, suggesting that the band learned their lessons from Rainwater Cassette Exchange, and moved forward from that release rather than the layered passages of Microcastle. Many sources seem to cite this record as some type of generational signpost, hyping the record as the best of the decade thus far, and here's where I get lost. First, I am not sure that we can justifiably place such a title on an album and then subsequently judge all other albums against that -- and that's what we're doing if we mark Deerhunter's latest as the best of its class; second, I am not sure that Deerhunter's sound is the sound of the generation.

If you take Deerhunter's ambient and krauty interpretations of girl-group pop or doo-wop to be the sound of the generation, the new album from Frankie Rose and The Outs provides just as strong a generational signpost as Halcyon Digest, with equally direct and varied songwriting and crystal clear production, creating dwellings for surprising and fun pop songs. At its best, Frankie Rose and The Outs is majestic, spanning between pop interpretations with ease, providing brief, blissful nuggets that invoke the best of the girl groups, Phil Spectre's wall of sound, and straightforward rhythm and blues/pop.

Darker My Love, Alive As You Are. Yet another surprising 2010 record, Darker My Love flip the coin and show the other side of The Pretty Things, providing a cruising and shuffling entry into the catalog of paisley psychedelia. Reviews of this record that call it a nostalgic replication of a broad spectrum of 1960s psychedelic pop are misguided; the record, written in the wake of personal tragedy and personnel shifts in the band, provides one of the best answers to death that I have ever heard. Instead of providing untamed, layered expanses and fuzzscapes from which to reflect on mind, psyche, and soul, the band embrace direct production and allow the vocals and energy to lead you through a path that is completely new but also perfectly familiar. I couldn't stop laughing, smiling, and reminiscing while listening to this record during my first listens, and instead of nostalgia, I heard an album that perfectly summarizes the importance and complexity of memory. While every sound was familiar to me, it was also revealed in a corner of the universe that I had never visited, but seemed friendly and welcoming anyway. That's quite an accomplishment for a rather brief pop record, and when the dust settles, I see no reason why this album won't be one of the hallmarks of this generation, as well.

Running. This trio suckered me in after a blistering set at Empty Bottle in support of Cacaw -- their rhythmic shifts, frenetic vocals, and feedback help to create some of the best punk songs I've heard in years. Specifically, the regenerative-flanging of the guitar, creating nauseating feedback cycles, is the trademark that best sticks in my mind. Easily the guitar sound of the year, I simply cannot get the chaos out of my mind. I managed to get my hands on a copy of their #2 cassette, and I was thrilled about that release, but their debut LP on Permanent Records presented a full package of punk songs without breaks and phenomenal artwork.

Travis Bird and Daniel Burke, Negentropy. Over the span of several months in 2010, this experimental guitar duo provided thoughtful and dark passages that forged both eerie and dreamy landscapes. From their debut WNUR show to this cassette on Notice to their peaceful contribution on Offstrings, Bird and Burke display a versatile approach to their instruments, and an unwillingness to be pinned down by one single identity or technique. This duo is probably one of Chicago's most underrated gems, and if they flew under the radar with their developments in 2010, I hope they gain notoriety in 2011 for their industrial/pastoral contradictions and challenges.

CINCHEL Update

Head over to Milwaukee Ave. Reckless to check out the Cinchel tape, they have some brand new copies over there.

I also believe there are some copies at Permanent, via Cinchel himself. Support your local stores and an exceptional local guitar artist!

Email me if you want a copy via mail, we're running low. Feel free to use pay pal for any orders: spectiveaudio [at] gmail [dot] com.

Cinchel drone.dump (including hand-made segments of a large watercolor, individually unique to each package. Kelly green tape.)

Release date: March 2, 2010

This release is personal in the most significant way; I received it as a gift after watching Chicago guitar artist Cinchel play a set at Hotti Biscotti alongside Dense Reduction and Travis Bird. It was handed to me in an elaborate, hand-made watercolor double-CD case, and it featured two astonishing releases: one featuring guitar compositions alongside various found sounds and recordings, and another featuring pure, intense, nearly endless guitar drones, sustaining for an hour.

This is a story about those guitar drones.

Endless notes sustain through both sides, as Cinchel constructs a note, leaves it there, suspends it in time, only interrupting it with sometimes chaotic, unsettling arrangements that pass through the recording with a certain peace that is completely at tension with the endless note. Textures arise with this method, and the surprise of the arrangements add to the suspense of the overall composition.

By cycling the notes, and continuously processing or manipulating the sound, Cinchel creates a dense landscape that is ominous, labyrinthine, introspective. The event of this release is your very own reflection throughout its sounds, and while focusing on its moments, peaks, and surprises, the time stamps on the progression of the tape are your thoughts, emotions, and desires that correspond to, or conspire against, the recording.

As a sonic adventure, the piece closes with an assault on the previous template for reflection, the full 40 minutes of music that precede the finale, the most brutally repetitive passage of the entire recording, a dark timbre, built completely from the sum of the previous arrangements, a climax that did not seem likely and is therefore that much more effective. By the closing loop, the tension decreases, and the mind is once again ready to reflect and encounter the emotional passages of a world that begins once the recording is completed.

Running

Some time ago, my bandmates and I finished practice and headed over to the Empty Bottle for a Cacaw free show. Given my adverse physical reaction to their mind-blowing sound at their 2009 Permanent Anniversary show (I ended up leaving their set early), I came with my trusty ear plugs in hand and was sufficiently ready to be rocked. Cacaw being one of my favorite live bands, and my ears yearning for some remedy for their ailments, the Empty Bottle free show provided a perfect opportunity for me to get the cobwebs out of my head.

I feel like one of the underreported aspects of independent music is the result of continued use and abuse of one's ears -- even with earplugs, going to frequent shows and practicing music frequently can really wear those canals down. In this particular case, the pummeling noise of Cacaw was preferred to rest, and in the course of the evening, I was thrilled that I made that decision.

As the show got going, three indistinct characters took the stage, and immediately blew up the scene with absurd amounts of regenerated flange, relentless drums, and driving bass. In the darkness of the venue, with the continued, endless feedback, the injured echoed vocals, I could not discern any particular songs in their set. I wasn't sure if they played one 20 minute song or twenty 30-second songs. I wasn't even sure who they were -- the bill said Running, and I'm pretty sure one of them announced it at the end of the show -- but my mind was sufficiently blown.

I kept the group on my mind, and was thrilled when I found their second tape one day in the middle of that grim season that exists between winter and spring in Chicago. I can't remember how many times I played that tape in a row, but it reminded me of their dark, mysterious set at the Empty Bottle, and provided me the perfect peace of mind for one of the most depressing times of year.

When I read that Permanent Records would be releasing Running's definitive vinyl collection, I immediately thought that it would be the perfect summary to a great year of records, a sort of keynote address if you will, an excellent statement about the simultaneity of darkness and creativity in Chicago's independent scene. I did not anticipate the exceptional artwork of the release, utilizing a painting and a gridwork concept that perfectly captures the spirit of the release.

First and foremost, I believe in the truism that punk's great contribution is that of an attitude of absolute freedom and creativity. However, I disagree that punk's spirit is best manifest in the history of punk music. There is a real sense in which punk is dead and the formal consumerism of society has eaten away even those most entrenched in the independent music scene (look down at your stack of records the next time you're at the store and ask yourself how frequently you're buying exactly what "they" want you to buy; it's crazy, I know, and I'm not advocating not supporting independent music. Sometimes I simply wonder if we get so caught up in buying music itself that we fail to fully digest what we consume).

I think punk lives in the intensity of psychological or geographical spaces painted by the most intense, atmospheric, or textured music (in this case, truly "psychedelic" music and truly "punk" music converge) and in the communities in which such music is played (this underscores the importance of supporting independent music shops and clubs that feature independent bands).

Running, in this case, is a perfect summary of the power of punk and the escapism or reflection of psychedelic music. Their brief songs bleed into one another, creating something that is more like a collage or a suite than an "album," and the timbre of their instruments, the manner in which they employ their vocals, bass, drums, and guitar create a thematic element that is almost truly cinematic. Cinematic in this sense is a mapping of perception, editing our fields of vision and honing those fields of vision into a concise and programmatic statement.

Running evokes emotions in me that I sometimes lose; for the duration of their releases, I am completely captivated; I feel like a prisoner to their noise, which provokes my reflection on my own desires, perceptions, and thoughts. It is incredibly cerebral music, but it is perfectly executed in that it is entirely intuitive; rather than promoting an atomism that divides songs, tones, lyrics, bridges, verses, etc., their approach promotes the process of creation itself, which engages the listener as well as the band.

I am beyond the shock of the vocals, the insane regenerative flanging, the aggression of the bass, the commanding drums. Running invite me to reflect within their masterful spaces, and each time I accept their invitation, I am rewarded by the depth of their sound.

IMPLODES

Haunting guitar drones, volume swells, and distortion washes bleed between dense songs. Listen at 6:45 am when the sun refuses to rise until 7:15; shreds of existing light sneak through your curtain, preparing you for dawn aside intense, endless drones. Distinct layers of fuzz provide texture for the release, although the effects aren't so overwhelming that you drown. Rather, it is the sound itself, and the sequencing of the songs, the perception of never-ending soundscapes that will hold you hostage. The imprint of this release remains well after the cassette stops.

Highly recommended. Currently available at all Reckless Records stores; if your favorite Reckless store doesn't have it, Permanent Records should. Plustapes, second pressing (100).