A sound device from the April 11 concert by Hans W. Koch and Nicolas Collins at Lampo in Chicago.

More at lampoblog.blogspot.com, from which the above image is borrowed — and at lampo.org.
A sound device from the April 11 concert by Hans W. Koch and Nicolas Collins at Lampo in Chicago.

More at lampoblog.blogspot.com, from which the above image is borrowed — and at lampo.org.
Science fiction writer and general cyberpunk Renaissance geek Richard Kadrey has been spewing his own takes on Brian Eno and Peter Schmidt‘s Oblique Strategies via his Twitter account. Here are some samples:
Consider ambiguity. Or not. What do I care?
Mix forms, but don’t forget to change your underwear.
Emphasize the itchy parts
In Kadrey’s Twitter timeline, the first such stategy begin’s at twitter.com/Richard_Kadrey. Some, just to be clear, are not safe for work. Kadrey’s new novel, Sandman Slim, will be published in July.
A little over a minute into Twenty Feet for Buddha, any fan of the Buddha Machine — the objet-de-sound-art by China-based duo FM3 — will hear a familiar drone, a slowly rising and falling hum, like a distant foghorn, arrive out of the dreary mist that had preceded it. This single, 20-minute track (MP3) is the most recent release on the netlabel restingbell.net, and was recorded by Terge Paulsen (whose contribution to a collection of string-based mixes was noted here last year: disquiet.com).
Paulsen’s use of the Buddha Machine is notable for several reasons.
The first reason is that he takes nearly full possession of the Buddha loops. The Buddha Machine is a small radio-like device containing nine individual loops, and there are two Buddha Machines in release thus far. The loops have been remixed by numerous musicians, but Paulsen makes them sound like they’re entirely his own. A key example is a certain piano loop — in fact the third loop from the second Buddha Machine — which thanks to the lulling backing tones and some occasional evidence of manual labor (like a cart being moved), sounds like a new composition.
The second reason is that manual-labor sound. In the online documentation of Twenty Feet for Buddha, Paulsen lists the components of the album as “treated field recordings and Buddha Machines.” This real-world audio, like wheels against stone, or something being dragged, introduces a sense of physical activity to the proceedings — not so much as to distract, but just enough to focus one’s imagination for a moment. Digitally produced abstract music can bring with it a weightlessness, the mistaken suggestion that effort wasn’t required, and the labor in the audio provides a keen parallel to the labor that Paulsen expended in the production of this track.
Get the full set at restingbell.net. More on Paulsen at terjepaul.googlepages.com and myspace.com/terjepaulsen.
The catastrophic noise that was a 2008 performance by Fognozzle, heard below, came to me thanks to a theremin-playing cat.
Seriously. I’d posted a brief mention of the cat-playing-theremin video phenomenon on Twitter (video: youtube.com; post: twitter.com/disquiet) and received, rather quickly, a response via Twitter from Fognozzle.
I followed Fognozzle’s Twitter page through to fognozzle.net, where the most recent freely downloadable recording is a 15-minute track recorded in San Francisco as part of the Godawffle Noise Pancakes concert series (myspace.com/godwafflenoisepancakes). The performance is a threaded sequence of rumbling segments, all squall and rattle and magnificent full-throttle whirring, that sounds like a sci-fi gearhead fiddling in his garage, which arguably is what it is (MP3).
There’s much to ponder in MMtm‘s three-track Chant of the Booster, the latest from the Surreal Madrid netlabel. There’s the opening track, “Brew Ha Ha!” (MP3), which is all video-game noises stretched to the breaking point, like a handful of dying Centipedes crying out at once — not to mention the way the closing track, “Activating Solenoids,” moves between blurbly bass and snippets of spoken audio as if that’s the most natural way to spend time at one’s mixing deck (MP3).
But the keeper is the rhythmic title cut, which opens with rubbery cadences that might have been tapped out on upturned buckets, before it dives deep into glossy half-speed techno (MP3).
Get the full set at surrealmadrid.net.