Loraine James’ Fluid Techno Refactoring

A live video performance

/ By Marc Weidenbaum

Ten-plus minutes into this bracing live techno set by Loraine James, posted as a video by Fact Magazine today, I thought to myself, “She’s still playing ‘Glitch Bitch.'”

I wasn’t complaining, not by any means. Quite the contrary, it was great to have the opportunity to stretch out and luxuriate in the light breakages, the fluid refactoring, that she brings to the music in extended form. A friend then mentioned to me that James, on Twitter, had herself expressed surprise: [“didnt realise I played ‘Glitch Bitch’ for 13 minutes..oops.”](https://twitter.com/LoJamMusic/status/1293166133739171846) The original version of the song clocks in at a mere 3:12 on the album *For You and I*, where it’s the lead track. In the video, it’s more than a third of the set’s nearly 33-minute runtime.

I’ve never known quite what to make of the snippet that serves as the song’s title and lyric — less a lyric than a prominent sample reworked this way and that for the full length of the piece. It may mean be intended as something else entirely, but I’ve taken the song to be an act of James grabbing hold of a dismissive statement and turning it inside out, pushing back by making it her own, so thoroughly owning the phrase that it becomes a powerful symbol of transformation and expertise. That’s certainly the case with the underlying beat, how James lets unfurl and then pulls back gleaming rhythmic patterns, coaxing odd meters and pulse-disorienting pauses as she goes.

Video originally posted at [YouTube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QnvxRT9nUbc). More from James at [lorainejames.bandcamp.com](https://lorainejames.bandcamp.com/).

Forest Synth

And where do the bugs end?

/ By Marc Weidenbaum

Me, I’m too nervous with what little gear I have to take it out of the house, let along to lug it into the forest. Then again, I’m a city mouse, and camping isn’t my thing. In this gorgeous footage, shot in Japan, a modular synthesizer takes root among trees, dappled by the light as filtered through leaves. Part of the beauty of it is not knowing where the synthesis ends and the songs of birds and insects begin. The source YouTube account, named Wac- Lounge, has only been up since May of this year, yet has already racked up over two dozen modular-synth videos worth checking out, some indoors, some out.

Video originally posted at [youtube.com](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=INz8aXaYePw).

Current Listens: Sampled Sources, Roadside Tuba

Heavy rotation, lightly annotated

/ By Marc Weidenbaum

This is my weekly(ish) answer to the question “What have you been listening to lately?” It’s lightly annotated because I don’t like re-posting material without providing some context. In the interest of conversation, let me know what you’re listening to in the comments below. Just please don’t promote your own work (or that of your label/client). This isn’t the right venue. (Just use email.)

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NEW: Recent(ish) arrivals and pre-releases

▰ *Warp & Weft* is a lovely, free, six-track release posted by Scanner (based in London) of delicately reworked samples from kalimba alongside soft synth lines, lightly glitched and filtered. The first two tracks (“Wefte,” “Wevan”) and sixth (“Weave into Time”) are especially sedate and gentle. The album was recorded live and released this past Friday, August 7.

▰ The free *Reel Feels (Sound Pack)*, by Frankfurt-based musician Jogging House, is the source audio from which Scanner derived his *Warp & Weft* album, but you don’t need to be a musician to take advantage of it. The first five tracks are beautifully torqued recordings of kalimba (or mbira), turned into pure atmosphere, each a minute or longer. Put them in a playlist and set them to loop on random. You’ll lose track of time happily.

▰ Sometimes an instrument is just as useful on the receiving end of sound, such as this great ongoing series in which a tuba amplifies nearby audio, here rendering deep metallic reverberations from passing traffic.

A Place, a Space

Blogging during a pandemic

/ By Marc Weidenbaum

Apropos nothing in particular except that it’s Sunday and I’m writing up some recent favorite listens to post at disquiet.com, and I wanted to mention how my website/blog is one of the key things keeping me sane during this pandemic (others: family time, exercise, guitar and synth learning, offline journal, long-term writing projects). Having a place to write a bit, to reflect on things, to share in a not-engineered-toward-feedback and yet open-to-reply space is a good space to have. Metaphorically, it’s more like keeping the garage door open while fiddling at the workbench than like, say, hanging in a public park. I’ve managed, for the first time in the blog’s (nearly) 24 years of existence, to write at least once every day this year, sometimes a short thing, sometimes something more substantial. In addition, more than ever, I’ve found myself just pulling up the website in a browser tab in the middle of the day to take look, as one might open a window to the backyard or pick up a family photo. Flip back a few days, see what’s been on my mind, sometimes to plot what to write next, but mostly just to spent time in a place where I enjoy spending time.

The above was something I initially, earlier this afternoon, mentioned in a thread about blogging at llllllll.co (aka Lines), the main public online community where I hang out. Then I figured I’d note the thoughts here, too.

Fuzzy Sigil

An ongoing series cross-posted from instagram.com/dsqt

/ By Marc Weidenbaum

While not quite the Fibonacci sequence, these 10 buttons at the entrance to an apartment building do make the visitor wonder what’s next. In fact, you’re left wondering before the sequence is even over. There are 8 buttons, numbered as such, and then what can be deciphered as “basement” (“BAST”? Why not “BSMT”?) and then … then it gets odd. There are twin rows of information to go by: the legible digits scrawled on the gate surface with a magic marker, and the almost-rubbed-off ones on the buttons themselves (apartment 6 seems to have been quite popular, judging by the wear; 4 not so much). Which leaves the fuzzy sigil on the 10th button noticeably uncertain. It looks like a 9, but why does it come after the basement and not before? What logic explains this ordering? And come to think of it, prior to “BAST” having been written above the basement button, what exactly was inked on the button itself? Gotta love a good mystery, especially a makeshift one.