A month ago rawore (aka Bob Phillips) caught the sounds under the Hawthorne Bridge in Portland, Oregon. The result was a gaping-mouth yawn of rumble and doppler woosh. At barely half a minute, it registered as a snippet, a glimpse of daily sonic life, a snapshot of the sonic everyday. But it had something to it, a sense of narrative, perhaps, and certainly a meaningful texture — that odd tension that exists within a documentary recording that feels lush and warm when in fact it is capturing hard rubber on tarmac echoing against concrete and metal. Perhaps brevity served it as well, coaxing the imagination to ponder where it might have gone had the road not hit a dead end.
Over in Germany, all cousmatic (aka Allain Cousmatique) took note of this low-grade intrigue, and then took the sounds and expanded them sixfold in length. The result tweaks the texture just enough so that the rubber on the road becomes a minimal techno rhythm, a light beat that shimmers like a mass of passing headlights, never quite aligning with a proper metronomic pulse, but still telegraphing momentum, speed, direction, force.