Eilbacher/Moskos/Moore – SEF III
7.20.16 by Ian Franklin

SEF III is the trio of Max Eilbacher, Alex Moskos, and Duncan Moore, who all play in other projects like Horse Lords, and Drainolith, and Headband. But for this one they play together as SEF III. Or maybe by SEF III? Or maybe “SEF III” is actually Eilbacher/Moskos/Moore playing SEF III? It’s unclear just what the group name is, as the tape and Discogs both state the artists’ names, but on a recent tour they played under the name SEF III… A nebulous space created between the creators and their creation. Phil eludes his shadow.

From a session, or sessions, in July of last year the trio use tape elements, modular synth, poetry, collage, other sound generators, probably other stuff too, and a playful sense of disorganization to spin you around in a dizzying sense of disorientation.

The structural layering is so DEEP across the whole release, like one of those yummy 7 Layer Dips that they just bring out in the casserole dish it was made in cause there’s no possible way to transfer it without it falling apart. And you can make out the top couple layers for sure, maybe even a middle layer or two, but you’re gonna want to reach that WHOLE chip in there and scoop up every little piece. Soliloquies on spontaneous clown generation, slowly transitioning into a mechanic relay stream of consciousness. Peppered blasts of frequency modulated nodes. Slippery lilts trigger the resonator squelch. Claustrophobic foot step rhythms. Real tasty stuff.

“SEF III” is released on Ehse Records of Baltimore, MD in clear gray shells and housed in a red-orangeish j card. No stream/download available so grip and dip!

New Batch – Spring Break Tapes!
5.2.16 by Ian Franklin

I was supposed to listen and write some words on this batch from Spring Break Tapes! closer to when it was released back in March, but some unfortunate life events prevented any type of creative spirit and sucked all the energy out of me. These three sat on top of my deck staring at me for the last month and change, beckoning me to dig in, almost forcing me to listen. But, I resisted for whatever reasons.

Sometimes things don’t work out the way you want them to. Sometimes things royally fucking suck and it can feel crushing and impenetrable. The loss of a loved one, a personal failure, a dissolving friendship, a monumental weight on your mind, the impending disaster of things you can’t control. But the shadow is cast from the flame, and darkness is not the only reality.

Music has the power to heal and transform. Sometimes it may be the only light that shines, but all light moves with the greatest speed and with undoubting assurance. Returning to these three tapes from Avery Gabbiano, Amulets, and Head Dress has been an overwhelming and positive experience. Not only because they were weighing on my mind for a long time, but also because they’re so fucking good. Let’s dig a little deeper.

The continuous theme of cyclic movement and regeneration is present in all three releases though evident in different patterns and ways. They each develop in their own style while at the same time moving through equal fields of intention, whether it be through tidal movements, looping forms, or rhythmic presence. They mold together as wholly separate but connected sides of the same prism.

 

Avery Gabbiano “Oracles & Chambers”
Side A’s track, Sacred Incubation Chamber, begins immediately with an underwater deep sea dive into chambers unseen; elements of structure that only live in light-less environments. Bubbles of watery pops and resonance float around circular stabs of more fossilized synth arpeggiations. Not quite water and not quite electronics.  There is a threshold that sits just below the shadowy depths. A slow and steady melodic current drifts through stronger waves of filter sweeps and undulations. The feeling of a surrounding weight mixes perfectly with the feeling of endless expanse. Heavily reverbed and delayed tones bounce and reflect in a glowing radiance while warm drones fill the stereo spectrum. Ancient systems flow through dynamic structures.

Oracle of Osaka picks up the current where the tide let out. Deep and glistening bass drone floats underneath flashes of synth that dances from ear to ear. Disconnected voices splash on the shores of memory leaving a thin layer which ultimately drifts back to the source. Long distance travels. The steady pattern of continuous synth creeps back to the front. There and back again; always present. Turning slightly aggressive, the storm of swelling patterns hint at the danger that is always present and sometimes unavoidable. Distinct though familiar, the sounds match perfectly to the j-cards multitude of deep-sea organism artifacts across it’s numerous panels. Mystifying while simultaneously comforting.

Amulets “Auras”
The Coldest Time Was Always Midnight begins with distant field recordings of a passing train in the night. Or perhaps a fading tape loop pushed to it’s limits. Or maybe the slow undulating pulse of time itself. Creeping guitar haze penetrates the outer reaches and works its way towards covering everything in sight. The most gentle beginnings drift into an all encompassing presence, replaced continuously over again like ripples pooling out to the edges. A brilliant light which burns and fades though it leaves the mark of remembrance in it’s wake.

A Funeral By The Sea kicks off on the flip side with a strong and dense field of ambient hiss that slowly melts in to the porous edges that keep the structure together. Weathered and exposed guitar passages dance slowly back and forth. Pleasant feedback makes its presence felt but hardly seen. Looped fragments across multiple octaves fill out the massive structure and balance together with ease: slow and methodical bass, small flashes of upper register, pulsating drifts through the middle frame. A full body cast shaped and sculpted around a fading figure. Some of the most beautifully haunting sounds I’ve heard in a long, long time.

Head Dress “Rose”
Prickly stabs of synth pierce the beginning of Salet, the first track of the A side. Staccato splashes that bounce and trail off into the farther reaches. They’re met with a deep and expounding call of bass rhythm and meditative vocal loops while a slow undercurrent melody runs through the middle. Fading from the view, the undercurrent swells and disappears into the growing blackness that surrounds. Lurching from the beyond comes “Black Cherry”, with its deep breaths of filtered bass tones. Small, fluttery modulations skip through the weighty pool like dragonflies over a underground canyon reservoir. Though they never linger to long before disappearing back into the night.

Darlow’s Enigma starts things off on the B side with flashy pops of synth rhythm, a 4-dimensional field that grows strength from all it absorbs. Resonant spikes pierce the outer layers; sharp edges dissolve and grow into new territory. A dance of structured yet unstable movement. Pieces of vocals once again enter the territory. Distorted and fleeting they dissolve into the ether of the pulse. From the beginning…the rise; to the inevitable end… the fall.

A word on the j-cards for these three releases: BONKERS. Straight up gorgeous fucking pieces of artwork from label head Joe McKay displayed over 6 panels, front and back. Each one fits the mood of their respective sounds perfectly and adds to the overall release in a way that is refreshing and exciting. You really just have to experience these for yourself. Stock is running low on these so do what you must and grip these babies NOW!

Giona Vinti – Nox Lux
3.28.16 by Ian Franklin

Uneasy synth chords swirl back and forth in the opening moments of Nox, the A side’s lone track on “Nox Lux” by Giona Vinti, released this past month on Old Bicycle Records. Flashes of frequency modulation dance across the unbroken wave of tone. The mood: a pervasive sense of dread. Syrupy blips pop into focus and squeeze between the disorienting walls of synth swirl. Clanging bell tones knock together in an off-balance dance, the precursor to an all out freakout of heavily modulated skronk shuffle. Slips and pops and distorted bleeps bounce around in a steady barrage of digital(?) noise. Fragments of vocal samples leak into the picture, foreboding and separated from context.

Lux swirls forward on the B side with rushes of textured vocals and low zone feedback spirals. The mood lifted and bright with gong splashes. A flurry of dense patches of synth like blocks jump through the melody, returned to a slightly somber skip. Perhaps it’s expertly trilled guitar in sections? Tough to say for sure but it’s undoubtedly heavy. This is the type of light that blinds you. Switching between ping ponged bells and drops of distorted guitar and synth the melody drifts in and out of consciousness carrying the listener with it. Swirling and flying closer to the sun before drifting off in to burning light.

Like the Stefan Christoff / Post Mortem split, this is housed in a Brad Pack and features some killer graphic art from Maria Dolorosa De La Cruz, and some words on the project release and how it came about from label head Vasco Viviani on a fold out insert. Same minimal imprinting on the grey-brown shells for this edition of 75, still available from the label.

Stefan Christoff / Post Mortem – Tape Crash #12 split
3.21.16 by Ian Franklin

Unbeknownst to me, Old Bicycle Records based out of Piazzogna, Switzerland have been releasing some amazing music on cassette, CD, and LP since 2011 especially their Tape Crash series pairing artists from around the world together. #12 in that series is a split C48 between Stefan Christoff of Canada and Post Mortem from the Netherlands.

Stefan Christoff’s side is filled with emotional and sprawling textures of organ, guitar drones, and piano explorations. At times Terry Riley like, Christoff works with rhythmic counterpoint and revolving modes of melody and solos. “Fenetres Sonores” begins with swirling touches of delayed and reversed guitar patterns stacked on top of bass currents and rising synth drone. Christoff does an excellent job shifting form across the tracks and as a result they never feel bogged down by extended periods of exploration or stagnancy. “Silver Organ”’s bouncing synth rhythm hops along under the silver glass shine of stacked organ declaration. “Correspondance” is the most guitar heavy track; slightly distorted resonating solos punctuate the open air and drift along the canyons within. Then to finish it out, the side closer “Reve Populaire a Montreal”, beckons with waves of crescendoed piano flourishing climaxes. Deep mix of Ambient introspection and contemplation across this side that is simply beautiful to experience.

Post Mortem (Jan Kees Helms) “Waasland” kicks off the B side with a warm bath of ambient noise rising in intensity revealing a train like cadence, wind whipping by with the muffled clicks of tracks passing underneath. Looped fragments of distorted vocals punctuate the haze with bass-y mixtures of piano and noise lurking through crevices. As the dense layering of looped field recordings subsides, the piano shines through the spotlight, a slow and measured melody of hesitation. Creeping, heavy blasts of noise are reduced to the mechanical lilt of the train again, unable to escape the constant feeling of escaping. The continuous movement is juxtaposed against fragile piano creating it’s own rhythmic pulse. Distorted vocal chants slash across the stereo spectrum invading your ears. These too fade into the background, revolving back into the continuous loop of fragmented noise and breaths of haunting piano. Really, really solid use of mixing field recordings and acoustic instrumentation and a perfect balance to the melodic beauty of the A side.

Housed in a slick, dot-matrix printed Brad Pack, the white shell tapes have simple and minimal printing of the artists names on each side, and an insert listing track information and instrumentation which is always a welcome bonus. Edition of 100 and even though it came out last November this is still somehow available from the label so get gripping!

New Batch – Lillerne Tapes
9.4.15 by Ian Franklin

We over at here at Tabs Out know what you like. You like the raw and the experimental; the challenging and the contemplative. The perennial and all-out awesome. We hear you. Well, Lillerne Tapes knows what you like too and lemme tell you, they just dropped a new batch of varied experimental sounds crossing a broad range from lo-fi art pop to semi-autonomous modular synth explorations to sprawling and introspective ambient universes. There’s a little bit for everyone here so let’s jump in and take a look.

LL67: Wage, the duo of Daniel Luedtke and Ana Raba, throw down four tight jams of angular, deceptively catchy synth pop.  Using a small instrument setup of a few synths, drums, and vocals Wage really pushes the limits with their songwriting approach. The third track, “Holy Light”, starts off with a fluttery low-oscillation before picking up intensity with a driving bass drum and squealing synth lines converging halfway through in a menacing and abrasive heaviness. The album opener, “Neutral”, pins angular drumming with blasts of fuzzy synth tones around the edges of the beat. A little bit Black Sabbath at times, little bit Genesis, little bit Jefferson Airplane, little bit 10,000 Maniacs, and so much more; these songs retain a sense of grounded exploration that most lo-fi pop tries to retain but falls just short of. Without dissolving into strange esotericism the duo calls forth an immediately recognizable and distinct sound maintaining a sincerity that’s undeniably attractive. Edition of 50 home-dubbed Type II’s with some killer screen printed J cards from Daniel.

LL68: Gora Sou’s “Modular Environments For Home Listening Vol. 1” is a largely unmanned journey. From the artist, “The Music on this cassette consists of one-shot recordings of a Modular Synthesizer System. It was patched to create and play on its own, with little or no human interaction. The recordings were edited down and sequenced into two programs for continuous play. The idea was to leave every aspect of the musical creation solely to the machine, resulting in ambient textures to contemplate everyday activities.” The cover image shows the system patched up accompanied by various candles and relics and metaphysical ephemera I can only assume helps get the machine in the creative mood. Drifting in on a slow creep, hazy washes of filter-swept synth cascade through the growing molten bubbles of arpeggiated tonal bloom. Tripping over delicately plucked synth strings, passages fall and rise gleaming with resonant pops and echoed footsteps. An elemental theme running throughout, if there is one at all, is that of rhythmic dynamics: the slowing down and speeding up of sequences and triggered events; of the mind’s perception of time and space. The machine moves in defined ways but through the patterns of complex maneuvers, conjuring scenes from the electronic depths and spread into our consciousness through voltage control. Edition of 50 home-dubbed Type II cassettes.

LL69: Like the overlain image across the cover of Body lvl’s “Petri”, the sounds within mix together the same interplay of dissonant themes into a dance of complimentary forces. Breathy synth tones drift through open stretches, mutating and transforming shape along the way. A couple of the longer tracks like the second track “Baudine” and the 14 min. closer “Panama Disease” have their own microcosms all together: mixing major and minor tones, extended transitions, and with compositional elements that hint at small universes within. The extending mood is that of introspection through outward transcendence; to see within by seeing throughout. This is captured well on the third track “Cavendish” which begins with a slowly pulsating synth repetition that comes to an almost standstill before growing bolder with layers of gain and slightly distorted tones building up the framework before ultimately dissolving into a pool of digital resonance. This is a wonderfully introspective album which demands repeated listening for full potency.

The edition size of that one, like the others in the batch, is 50 copies. Which means you should hop to it. Grip all three from Lillerne’s Bandcamp.

Pedestrian Deposit – The Architector
8.12.15 by Ian Franklin

For the 15 years Monorail Trespassing has been in operation they’ve released a staggering amount of music. To celebrate their 100th release they’ve delivered the newest offering from Pedestrian Deposit, the duo of Jonathan Borges and Shannon A. Kennedy. “The Architector” (C40) is two side-long tracks built off of material dating from February 2010 through December 2014 “recorded at lungmotor c.n., goose nest, and in the field”. Pedestrian Deposit give a bit of detail on their Facebook about the release stating, “The culmination of five years of obsessive work — fits and starts of ongoing perfectionism that spawned two solo projects and two additional records. Beginning with crude and unfamiliar source materials, each sound is examined from every possible angle, then taken apart and reconstructed along with the compositional process. From 2010 forward, each phase is represented; the past three U.S. tours have given clues, and these recordings offer more of the puzzle, but you will never get everything at once. To be experienced as foreground with no distractions. This begins a practice of self-containment and preservation from outside elements.” For the people familiar with their work already, this presents some very compelling information; but for those who aren’t, it barely hints at the intensely visceral and powerful noise ahead.

Reducing Pedestrian Deposit’s sound to a strictly “noise” signifier, however, would be a terrible disservice to the duo. Their pieces are for the most part composed, with a strict adherence to form, spatiality, dynamics, and timbre. Live performances often include elaborate rigging structures, suspending Kennedy in an array of pulleys, chains, and other pieces wielding contact mics in a seemingly dangerous but composed dance of sonic annihilation. Borges, keenly aware of dynamic minutia, switches from stoically composed to all out furious, extracting devastating feedback from the ether.

Side A’s “A Cold Harvest”, begins with brief flashes of metallic dread on top of a steady and rippling undercurrent of low-end oscillation. The overwhelming feeling is that of dread. The sounds morph into labored groans of synth with triggered splashes of feedback that never seem to spiral out from their control. Sharp stabs of synth build over distant electronic wails. The tension is haunting. Dancing around the edges of complete breakdown the duo builds an already unnerving sound to near hysteria before completely falling off to slow paced crawl of clicking feedback and sublime bowed cello.

“Shifted Snake” kicks of the B side with dexterous punches of harsh noise, silhouetted by almost imperceptible bed of fuzz. Glistening bubbles of synth boil over, melting into the layers of looping textured noise. Soft resonant tones float in and out of the structure. The noise eventually fades leaving only the resonance behind; a glowing orb of distant light rotating around you just beyond your arms reach that swells with a slow and steady speed before ultimately consuming you.

This is an extraordinary release from a titan in experimental music. It makes you painfully aware of the intricacies of awareness, beckoning you to give everything you have to the energy of the performance. “The Architector” is released in an edition of 100 and is still available from the Monorail Trespassing which means you should go get it.

Head Dress – Backwards
6.20.15 by Ian Franklin

Scooped out of the sedimentary blanket of worn earth lives “Backwards” from Head Dress released on Geology Records. Originally released on Distance Recordings in 2010, “Backwards” is getting a fresh treatment from Geology Recs. in an edition of 50; and this is good news for all of us because these 4 tracks of concentrated drone doom, running in the range of 7 to 17 minutes each, are superbly crafted slices of guitar ambiance.

Head Dress’ sense of pacing is exemplary whether using the cold, filtered sounds of modular synths as on “Warren” released last year on Phinery, or when using passages of slowly evolving reverberated guitar and distortion as he does here on “Backwards”. The melodic passages inch forward adding small pieces with every rotation growing into a massive force. Hair, the second track, builds with a slow and disorienting dread like the tide calmly rising up above your shoulders, creeping towards your neck. Reverberating wails of shimmering metallic guitar shine through and fade as pulsing heartbeats.

Slightly before the half way point of Fantasy comes the slow descent into distorted dust fields, though it never loses sight of the dancing melodic mirage within. The landscape is barren and mostly unforgiving, stripped of any unnecessary pretense. Feels like early Earth writing a score for a hard sci-fi flick where the dessert is the main character.

Backwards is pro-dubbed on chrome, features some killer acrylic based 2-sided color j-cards and clear shells with black imprinting. You know what to do… GRIP!

Tether – Some Shape
4.16.15 by Ian Franklin

Though it came out last year, this only showed up on my radar after a recent random search, and through that strange sense of destiny that defiantly creeps up now and again. I stumbled onto this beauty from Tether (Lauren Pakradooni) called “Some Shape” (C30) self released on her Normal Position label. A bouncing, repeating pattern of bass stabs stumbles forward punctuated by squiggly synth lines flying just overhead. Flickerings of stutter dance around within the growing structure. Higher pitched shimmers are slowly poured in. Soon, enough elements emerge that the structure takes actual shape, a bass drum stepping in to cement the backbone, tender vocals binding the muscles together.

Side B kicks off with “Infinite Joy”, a bouncing ball of a beat splattered with heavy shades of synth wash staggering around the edges. She capitalizes on the projected momentum letting loose with some Grace Slick-like vocals, swooping from above with ferocity. Tether works best in this loose frame of counterpointed percussive tape loop electronics, allowing herself to float in and out of whichever space may be available, casting distorted synths through the stained glass window and down onto the dancing tiles of ever drifting rhythms; their ultimate shapes remaining unclear. Supremely excellent mix of abstract synth pop, droning repetitions, and inwardly reflected synth iridescence.

Some Shape comes in an edition of 100 with risograph j cards and can still be gripped from Normal Position.

Fire Death – Circuit Of The Stars
3.21.15 by Ian Franklin

Blast through the cranial crevices of the mind’s galaxy and you’ll unearth this gleaming gem of shining brilliance. By another name, this gem is known as “Circuit of The Stars” the newest C30 tour tape from Fire Death. This Cleveland supergroup of Ben Osborne (Bass Clarinet, Tape Loops, Guitar), J. Guy Laughlin (Percussion), and Matthew Gallagher (Rot Ton Box, more on that later) play a refined and blistering form of free jazz with expert attention to shifting dynamics and a constant communicative interplay between performers. Whether throwing squealing walls of scorched clarinet and fractured electronics, to stripped down utterances of sound, Fire Death move as one cohesive unit.

Feeding off each other at every turn the group staggers forward, lunging at times into the beyond with fiery blasts of shrieks and dense clusters of hidden snare fills. Passages of staccato flares and bursts of oscillating howls fly around the galaxy and reflect of the mirrored walls. Acoustic tones blend into digital realms, moving freely between the dimensions. Furious and chaotic wails from the Rot Ton Box, a hybrid, no-input, conglomeration of “ancient useless” rack gear assembled over the years by Osborne and played expertly here by Gallagher, morphs in and around sections of upper register acrobatics from Osborne, the two melting and combining into pools of molten energy. Anchoring it all is the percussion of Laughlin who has an uncanny ability to put forth bursts of lightning fast fills into confined elements of chaos. Much of Fire Death’s power revolves around the struggle of tension and release, moving quickly from segments of sustained pause to blasts of unrestrained luminescence. The tension holds the structure and the performers dance around within, accentuating different elements of the whole.

Props to engineer James Kananen on the production, the sound quality is superb. Laughlin’s individually mic’ed drums and a well rounded sound to Osborne and Gallagher’s explorations really allows the interplay of the performers to be admired. In an edition of 100 with white shells you can grip a copy at one of Fire Death’s upcoming shows.

3.21.15 in Richmond, VA
3.22.15 in Washington, DC
3.23.15 in Baltimore, MD
3.25.15 in NYC
3.26.15 in New Haven
3.27.15 in Boston

Tranquility Tapes Winter Preview
1.28.15 by Ian Franklin

I know; Winter time sucks. It can be downright miserable. There’s approximately 14 minutes of sunlight remaining when you get out of work, the weatherman’s forecasting your imminent doom, and your socks are wet. Good lord, why are the socks wet all the time?! But look, Tranquility Tapes doesn’t give two hoots about all that biz. They’re all set to drop another batch featuring OLD SVRFERS, Witchbeam, and Quicksails goodies guaranteed to make you lose those winter blues. We’ve gotten the go ahead from Tranquility and are very pleased to premiere a video made by Glass House’s Eric Brannon for the batch. Feast your eyes and ears:

Well, I was lucky to peep some sounds from this batch so I thought I’d tease y’all a little more:

Awash with underlying currents of melancholic drone, oily rhythms, and deep sea exploration, OLD SVRFERS’, the duo of Josh Mason and Brad Rose, “Ain’t Scared of Shaka” (C41) floats through a maze of tasty sets and swells. This little beauty is a tried and true submersible with extensive battle tested capabilities, both Mason and Rose have had lengthy solo expeditions, but here the two forge a passage through dense formations of sequential zones, stretches of misty foggy lagoons, past all possible escape routes and down into the depths itself. Some of the stretches on this release are so absolutely magnificent. Wide open seas that extend infinitely with a cool breeze at your shoulders and a fading sunlight through the dotted white puffs of cloud vapor. You can close your eyes and they’ll still be there. But the ocean beneath you is large and there are many creatures just waiting for you to sink below. Bubbly acid rises from the volcanic floor and spreads a thick woozey dub across the whole ocean bed. Shadows play on the walls of reefs and capsized vessels; layers of crevasses never touched by sunlight. Twisting your way through streams of syncopated synth stanzas and pockets of warmer drift you’re carried upward, rushing to the surface in purposeful exhilaration to reach out and crash upon the stoney shore of a territory outside your own. Joyous, and dark, and turbulent, Ain’t Scared of Shaka is one to set your compass by.

On “Shadow Musik Vol. 2” (C30), master of ceremonies Witchbeam blasts through dubbed out synth frequencies and dense clusters of harsher rituals. Driving columns of bass drum echo through the cranial walls while supremely fuzzed bass crawls over the skin. The spacing and pace of the album are fantastic: Witchbeam uses alternating forms of dissonant drone and structured destruction to hypnotize the listener into altered states of awareness: hypnogogic trip metal for the masses. The synthesized tones on this release are so vibrant: whether plucky wooden tones, resonator oscillator drift, crunchy fuzz nugs, and everything in between. Witchbeam is a true craftsman at work.

Quicksails (Ben Billington) cuts a rug on “Spillage” (C34), using a bevy of digital obfuscations in rhythmic models while mixing in some exposed melodic yearnings. A multi-instrumentalist but a-lot-of-the-time drummer, Billington uses his knowledge to accentuate the ferocity of his rhythmic explorations: movements in mitochondrial samba, laterally twisting swashes of synthesized glisten, fragmented microtonal galaxies dancing in digital playgrounds. He slices perfectly the juxtaposition of ambient sections and sequenced patterns, alternating their emphasis and importance, atop a healthy dose of exploration with respect to composition. Taking playful melodic samples of acoustic piano and digital synth, Billington slides beautifully wrought passages into small spaces while then turning around and burying it under a mass of crackling dissonance and resonator bellows. So many zones to traverse on this but the journey is the reward.

All three releases are housed in the artwork of Caroline Teagle, as is customary for all Tranquility Tapes releases. Don’t sleep on these; Tranquility releases are of the highest quality and this might be the last batch for some time. They should be available reeeeally soon from. They might even be up now, have you looked?