Field (Recording) Trip MP3

When a musician interrupts the flow of posted songs on SoundCloud to introduce a simple field recording, the question is one of intent. Is the real-world sound intended as a pause, as a reflection, as a palette-cleanser?

This is the situation with Devin Underwood (aka Spectra Ciera), who makes his music freely available at soundcloud.com/specta_ciera. To at least one of Underwood’s listeners, the intent had more to do with a revelation regarding influence and aesthetic: “This track explains your dub tracks like no words could,” wrote a fellow SoundCloud homesteader, referring to the deep dubby tracks that Underwood has posted. “Great little moment captured.”

The track in question is titled, simply, “Rain in the Attic,” and that is, presumably, exactly what it is:

It’s a field recording of a cozy confine during particularly sonorous inclement weather. Of course, one cannot only listen to the rain. For one thing, we don’t really listen to rain; we listen to what it sounds like when the rain hits something, in this case the roof, perhaps a windowsill. We also listen through rain, in this case to what seems to be a passing plane. That plane is, I imagine, the “little moment” mentioned above, when the sound of the rain becomes a captured instance. That moment-ness (very different from, really the opposite of, momentousness) is what makes Underwood’s track a composition: the conscious framing of sound, the recognition of a special congruity of real-world variables. Great photographers frame with their lens, and that is the procedural equivalent to exactly what Underwood has accomplished here.

More on Underwood at spectaciera.com, myspace.com/spectaciera, and discogs.com/artist/Specta+Ciera, as well as at drexonfield.com, the website of a duo of which Underwood is one half.

Sketches of Sound 1: Brian Biggs

This is the start of a new little project: inviting illustrators to sketch something sound-related. I’ll post the drawing as the background of my Twitter account, twitter.com/disquiet, and talk a bit about the illustrator back on Disquiet.com. Call it “curating Twitter.”

The above drawing was done by Brian Biggs, illustrator, cartoonist, and (at dancerobotdance.com and soundcloud.com/dance-robot-dance) a musician with a growing obsession for analog synthesis. You can follow Biggs at twitter.com/robotdancerobot and twitter.com/mrbiggsdotcom.

Biggs contributed a track to the Brian Eno / David Byrne remix project I put together a few years ago (Our Lives in the Bush of Disquiet: disquiet.com), and he was one of the creators whose work I edited during my 10-year stint overseeing the comics at Pulse! magazine (full list: disquiet.com).

See his illustrations and other art work at mrbiggs.com.

Claustrophobia, Netherlands Style (MP3)

There are old-school synths and horror-flick howls on Bulkrate‘s Convocation, but don’t let those all too familiar elements of goth-tronica keep you from “Under the Ice Cold Surface” (MP3). The EP’s keeper track dispenses with everything just shy of a steady beat, and even then its slow pummel is more exploratory than rhythmic — it’s heavier than a pulse, but far less certain. And in place of synth and metronome is a steady slur of noises, each one supplanting what precedes it with echoes of claustrophobia and sonic despair. Those intentions are all too common in the danker recessed of electronic music, but Bulkrate delivers a thorough, penetrating aural field of shattered cries, distant sirens, and rough scrapes.

[audio:http://www.darkwinter.com/dw068/dw068-Bulkrate-03-Under_the_ice_cold_surface.mp3|titles=”Under the Ice Cold Surface”|artists=Bulkrate]

Full set of four tracks at darkwinter.com. More on Netherlands-based Bulkrate (aka Evert de Weerd) at myspace.com/bulkratemusic.

Boneless in Las Vegas (MP3)

Isaac Knight lives in Las Vegas, Nevada, and makes eerily still music that sounds like the locked groove of a record played through an antique dub system. Under the name Boneless, he mixes deeply resonant effects and tightly looping audio for a uniquely minimalist approach. Earlier this year he played a show on KDVS’s invaluable radio show, Phoning It In, in which musicians literally play their music live on the air over the phone.

The result tamps down on Knight’s music, as if such a thing were imaginable. A taut “Little Drummer Boy” riff gets squashed into a pin-prick beat, and one segment sounds like an appropriated pop radio tune being played through a foot of concrete (MP3). The songs, such as they are, bleed from one to the next, but are listed in this sequence: “My Life (So Far),” “Way,” “Better,” “Breathless,” “On Me,” and “Young Thug.” Most minimal techno sounds downright flamboyant by comparison. Knight deserves praise for his restraint.

[audio:http://www.phoningitin.net/files/shows/KDVS/2010/Boneless%20-%20Phoning%20It%20In%2002_28_10.mp3|titles=”Live on Phoning It In (February 2010)”|artists=Boneless (Isaac Knight)]

More on the recording at phoningitin.net. More on Knight/Boneless at myspace.com/byeboneless.

The Sounds of ‘Treme’

In August, it’ll be seven years since I left New Orleans; it’ll also mark the fifth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, and the governmental incompetence exposed in its wake. Was reminiscing about the city tonight, when I caught the premiere episode of Treme, the new HBO series from the creators of The Wire. Learning that it was to be focused on the music of New Orleans raised some concern, since the first season of The Wire was peculiarly tone deaf when it came to the sounds of Baltimore, the city in which it was set. No such issues, as it turns out, with Treme, which mixes in not only old-school jazz and r&b, but also touches of the rap and swaggering rock’n’roll that make a home in the city. Here are some place-specific sound memories that surfaced while watching episode number one, “Do You Know What It Means”:

”¢ The DJ character played by comedian Steve Zahn is enamored of New Orleans music, and has the big ears to prove it. On his radio show, he doesn’t suffer the standards, playing a tangential cut by Louis Prima and cursing the pledge drive that requires him to slot in the chestnuts that signify New Orleans to outsiders, and that fill the station’s compilation CD. At home, he blasts Mystikal‘s “Shake Ya Ass.” I bought that very same 12″ in the early summer of 2000, almost exactly a decade ago, at a small record shop up the street from the post office where I kept a box. The production by the Neptunes, with its super spare beat, was the soundtrack of my entry into New Orleans. There may not be a song I played more often during my four years there, though I tended to stick to the instrumental cut. (The episode also featured a second Mystikal track, and one from Juvenile.)

”¢ Speaking of radio, I hadn’t thought of this in a long time, but for a while in New Orleans, I volunteered at WRBH, a station for the sight-impaired; the staff read all day long, starting with the current issue of the Times-Picayune newspaper, and then proceeding through magazine excerpts and novels.

”¢ One more regarding Zahn’s character — he mentions “Cosimo” at one point to a fellow DJ. He’s talking about Cosimo Matassa, the legendary record producer of Little Richard and others, and whose old studio, on Rampart Street just outside the French Quarter, had become a laundromat by the time I made it to New Orleans.

”¢ The closed-down Tower Records, where Zahn goes to retrieve some albums he had on commission: I was writing and editing for Tower’s Pulse! magazine when it shut down after 19 years of publication. I wrote the last cover story (on Missy Elliott), and learned via cellphone of the magazine’s imminent closing as the issue was going to press. I was walking down Magazine Street at the time.

”¢ The one sound in the episode I didn’t recognize was that of helicopters, which like the images of the National Guard standing along New Orleans streets, entirely post-dated my stay in the city.

”¢ And, finally, the episode — which is to say, the series — opens with a second-line parade, and there’s a brief moment when a police siren blurts along with the rhythm of the passing jazz band. That’s a not unfamiliar sound from second lines. Motorcycle cops toot their horns on occasion, the hard siren just another bit of counterpoint amid the ruckus.

Full track list for the episode at hbo.com/treme.

Here’s a piece I wrote, reflecting on my time in New Orleans, shortly after Katrina hit: “NOLA-tronic.”