Tape Label Wizard, Michael Potter, Opens Additional Rift In The Fabric of Time With New Label Garden Portal

4.3.19 by Tony Lien

Michael Potter founded multi-genre experimental tape label Null Zone in 2015. Since then, the label has earned its reputation as one of the mainstays of the cassette scene — thanks to Potter’s ability to surprise fans with each release as well as his willingness to tour and promote the strange music he curates. Due to this openness and hard work, I posit that Null Zone will weather the onslaught of the impending decades and be remembered fondly by our avant-garde obsessed, half-mutated, nutrient-deprived descendants as they drive faithfully towards the gates of Valhalla — shiny and chrome.

And, though it may very well be too early to tell, I also posit that Potter’s new label Garden Portal will be celebrated by future warboys just the same — if not more so.

Yes, Michael Potter has taken it upon himself to start a second label.

The first two releases (both albums courtesy of the same artist, Joseph Allred) were released on March 22, 2019. Read on and you will find out a little about what to expect when listening to Allred’s work, as well as some context regarding the genesis of Garden Portal in the form of an interview with Potter himself.

“Aspirant” revolves around minimalist sound experimentation — laden with field recordings, drones and occasional melodic passages that give the album a ghost town soundtrack sort of vibe. Throughout its run time, I can’t help but imagine a lone spirit wandering from place to place in some abandoned township, tinkering with rusted porch chimes (see the aptly named “Chimes and Basement Mass”) or sitting in a room amongst sofas and chairs covered in dusty plastic playing a forlorn tune on a harmonium (see “The Coyotes, The Sun). There are even moments that lean towards the creepy side (if you go along with the ghost town thing) — such as in “Good Order” when unintelligible whispers swirl around in the air amidst an ominous drone.

When considering all of this, perhaps “Aspirant” is a meditation on how it feels to be alone and lost in a quixotically empty place saturated in memories — and yet still feel an insurmountable desire to somehow make something beautiful out of it.

“Nightsongs” is a logical companion to “Aspirant” in that it possesses similar lonesome qualities — each track being comprised of thoughtful ditties played with subdued passion on six and twelve string guitars in an empty room. Due to this choice of instrumentation, the songs are more grounded and intimate. However, though the album is less “experimental” in this particular way, it nonetheless scribes its own chapter in the shared narrative.

All of that being said, what I love most about both albums is that each of them simultaneously compliments the other while standing firmly on its own. They are deep and rich with complicated nuances, like two beautiful humans who would have been just fine on their own — but nonetheless had the good fortune of becoming lifelong friends. And, because of this union, we are all richer ourselves. Bravo, Mr. Allred.

Null Zone is already an incredibly diverse label (in terms of genre) — so how and why start Garden Portal?  

With Garden Portal, I want to focus on a more organic kind of sound. Null Zone is pretty all over the place, but more and more it’s focused on electric and electronic musics. I love all that stuff, but I also have a deep love for acoustic based music too, especially guitar music. So a lot of what Garden Portal releases is going to be guitar oriented, but certainly not all. There will be some like drone and more atmospheric type stuff here too, it will just be of a more organic or earthy nature.  

How did you come to work with Joseph Allred? Tell us about why you chose ‘Aspirant’ and ‘Nightsongs’ to carry the burden of establishing first impressions of Garden Portal.  

I met Joey at the Three Lobed Records sweet sixteen show in Raleigh in 2016. I was introduced through my friend Shannon Perry of the band Wet Garden who I was at the show with. We talked a bit there and then some more on the internet. Met again at the Thousand Incarnations of the Rose American Primitive guitar festival in April of last year where he played a beautiful set of acoustic guitar pieces. Garden Portal had already been on my mind for a minute, and when I saw him play I knew I wanted to work with him. So a few discussions later and he sends me these 2 albums. It was kind of a no-brainer for me, really. These two tapes sort of give a roundabout sense of everything Garden Portal aims to be about – some nice acoustic guitar music mixed with very organic sounding field recordings and soundscapes.

How will you handle unsolicited submissions? Will your process be different than that of Null Zone?  

Well, same with Null Zone, anyone is welcome to send a submission over but who knows if I will have time to listen or not. I’ve got the next 3 Garden Portal tapes slated for the next few months. I tend to plan things out at least a few months in advance and I already have a bunch of folks I’ve asked if they want to do something, and a list of others that will eventually be asked. If someone sends something my way that I really connect with, then I’ll try to make something happen if it’s possible.

Going off of the previous question, what is your ideal release schedule look like?

I’m finally kind of figuring it that all out now. Last year I released 22 tapes on Null Zone, doing all the physical production and shipping myself (in between working a full time job), and that was too much for me. That really wore me out and kind of put me in a bad mood sometimes lol. So I think this year I want to slow things down just a little and then slow them down a whole lot for 2020. I’ve got 12 tapes and 1 vinyl LP slated for Null Zone, and 6 tapes slated for Garden Portal for the entire year, the releases alternating between labels every month. Null Zone tapes come in batches of 2, Garden Portal will come out one at a time (from now on). Maybe next year slow that down to just doing one tape a month alternating between labels.

What’s it like running experimental cassette labels in Athens, Georgia? How does location play a part in your creative choices – if at all?  

Athens is a great place to live if you just like to kinda keep your head down and do your own thing. There definitely is a cool scene of weirdos making all shades of experimental music, but it’s more like a community thing rather than a music/recording/nightlife kind of thing. A few folks in town will get some tapes from me, and sometimes the record shops will put a few up on the shelves, but not that many folks seem very interested in it. And that’s fine, I realize this music isn’t for everyone, especially not in a place as over-saturated with music as Athens is. I try to work with as many local experimenters as I can, while also working with folks from around the country and globe. So it’s cool to have this thing where those two scenes kind of meet and overlap. Also, just being in Athens, it’s kind of nice to retain a small bit of anonymity and to just be left alone to do what I want.

What is your highest hope for cassette culture (in general) as we push forward through time?

Oh dang, I don’t know. I haven’t thought about that before, nor is that something I would just think of lol. I like cassettes – like listening to them, like making them, like holding them and looking at them… but you know, everything goes away after a time. The world is in a pretty disastrous place right now and I wonder about how adversely I am affecting things by constantly putting out these little hunks of plastic that will eventually become garbage… Otherwise I think it’s great that we have this little music subculture surrounding this “outdated” form of media that is cheap and easy to produce and release, and that so many folks are on board with keeping it going.

New Batch – Bumpy

3.29.19 by Tony Lien

It’s my supreme pleasure to relate to you my thoughts on Minneapolis-based Bumpy Records’ two newest releases (set to drop on March 29) — “Durn Fool” by Oyster World and “Frisbee” by The Miami Dolphins.

Oyster World’s “Durn Fool” is an experience — and I don’t mean that in the usual vague sense employed by those who can’t find the right word to describe an album or a movie or an actual real life…experience. What I’m saying is that this album truly is an excursion, a spastic tour across numerous genre-bending soundscapes. Think paradoxically noisy/melodic progressive punk rock infused with creative nods to the likes of Bikini Kill or the B-52s or even contemporary peers Guerilla Toss.

Stephanie Jo Murck’s quirky and far-reaching (in terms of both pitch range and creativity) vocal prowess is mostly responsible for these comparisons. Much – but not all, of course – of the personality of Oyster World emanates from Murck’s musings regarding things from the mundane (such as food) to the most oft-debated sociological issues of the modern age (such as gender identity).

Guitarist Matthew “Gravy” Graves’ riffs work tirelessly to provide expansive context for Murck’s vocal efforts. Expert pedal utilization and a seemingly insatiable melodic vision often propels “Durn Fool” far past telescopic range. Some of the sounds he is able to achieve are borderline extraterrestrial. Couple this with his mangled time signatures and abrupt yet effective starts and stops, and it’s definitely fair to say Graves exists in the top tier of contemporary prog guitar purveyors.

Bassist Theo Pupillo is able to simultaneously compliment Graves’ guitar work while existing freely in their own sonic playground. I find it to be a very easy and pleasurable experience taking turns focusing on each players’ interwoven passages — where the bass will seamlessly assume lead melody duties or at the very least lay noticeable and catchy groundwork.

Willem Vander Ark is my new favorite contemporary percussionist. I have always appreciated drummers who know when to go nuts and when to refrain. He very obviously possesses a strong compositional sense and subsequent control that breeds dynamic and continuously surprising music. Anyone who’s been in a band knows that percussionists of this caliber are not exactly common.

Altogether, “Durn Fool” is abundant in jarring yet fluid musical breaks that constantly remind you that you’re listening to an unbelievably tight band — one that I imagine is amazing to see play live. The coherency that exists between the members’ individual styles almost seems too good to be true.

Releasing alongside Oyster World is the short but memorable “Frisbee” by The Miami Dolphins — also denizens of the Twin Cities.

The songs that comprise “Frisbee” are vast and far-encompassing despite the fact that the longest song clocks in at 4 minutes and 35 seconds. It’s almost like dream time — where a subconscious sequence that seemingly lasts for hours in one’s mind really only spans a few minutes or so in reality.

Genre-wise, these songs are hearty, lo-fi post-punk/no-wave concoctions that in some ways harken back to Sonic Youth’s fledging noise days (back when they were unheard of and sorely unappreciated in the NYC scene). What sets The Miami Dolphins apart, though, is the active chemistry between the members of the band. There’s an occasional back and forth between vocalist Beth Bambery and guitarist Patrick Larkin that lends a sort of dramatic quality to the music — these moments reminding me of zany scenes acted out by two actors in a late night improv class. However, despite the surface-level stream-of-consciousness execution of this banter, it’s apparent that it’s all well-rehearsed and imperative to the overall sound of “Frisbee”.

The opening title track is the standout track to me (if I had to pick one) — being that it’s the most sprawling and synecdochical of the bunch. It contains the aforementioned bizarre vocal exchanges, time signature shifts, guitar work that ranges from cheery to hyper to dissonant, and a queasy sense of structure. And what I mean by that is that control is most definitely present in all of these songs, but it’s fleeting. Each track dangles from a string over a bottomless pit of uncertainty and (in some cases) madness. I mean this in the most positive sense possible. “Frisbee” is unapologetically weird and intriguing.

Temporal Movement – 118

3.18.19 by Tony Lien

According to the Reserve Matinee (a Chicago label established in 2018 that boasts a shockingly wide variety of releases to date), the man behind Temporal Movement (David Wesley Sutton) has been releasing experimental noise music since 2004.

It pains me to think of the absolute shit I was listening to back then during my freshman year of high school. But don’t worry — we’re not going to pry open that barrel of partially decayed noxious waste right now. Instead, we’re going to discuss Sutton’s brief yet engaging album “118”.

The entirety of the tape contains a Steve Reich sort of devotion to ever-evolving minimalist repetition. In this, the tracks are almost automotive in the way they are pushed forward through auditory space. In the opening title track, major stabs (which I perceive to be effected field recordings) soaked in reverb drive the ten minute composition through a misty haze of oscillating ambience to an eerie, jumbled crescendo — the journey taken as a whole reminding me of a car ride that starts in the middle of nowhere and ends up in the heart of an unfamiliar city. The final track “Mound” contains a similar notion of movement, but is augmented by bouncy violin passages that harken back to some of Moondog’s more contemplative compositions.

That being said, there’s a modern-classical element to Sutton’s noise — which is not something you hear on a regular basis. This is not so much due to instrumentation or the overall sound of the album, but rather by the apparent underlying mastery of arrangement techniques employed by Sutton throughout the tape’s duration.

As of writing this, there are 4 copies of “Temporal Movement” remaining on Reserve Matinee‘s Bandcamp. I’d pick one up while you can. This is one of those albums where, like a good Charlie Kaufman movie, you will notice something new hidden in its layers every time you sit down to experience it.

Life Education – New Earth Assembly

3.8.19 by Tony Lien

The cover art for Life Education’s “New Earth Assembly” boasts a Bob Ross-style pastoral landscape which is further accented by what seems to be THE biggest, happiest tree reaching up into the stratosphere in the far-off distance. Could this be meant to represent a larger-than-life dream of a beautiful (and possibly human-less) world in the not-so-far-off future? Maybe I’m looking into it too much. All I know is that these days — especially after getting lost in the Twitter feed or network news reports — I tend towards rooting for nature and its eventual retaking of the Earth.

I don’t necessarily get that particular vibe when listening to “New Earth Assembly” though. Instead, I’m exposed to a plethora of emotions that stand in strangely harmonic juxtaposition to each other. Peaceful yet melancholic. Safe in the present moment but aware of an impending storm in the visible distance. An otherworldly vastness that feels all too familiar in our own society’s ecological/sociological climate. Overall there’s a mysterious and inquisitive quality to the compositions that invite both forward thinking and thoughtful retrospection.

Genre-wise, “New Earth Assembly” exists in numerous realms. Mainly, the subdued nature of its percussive elements place it somewhat in the ambient downtempo IDM camp — while the hovering, ever-shifting crispness of its digital synth passages hint at the hyperreal nu-world sound exploited by the likes of those such as HCMJ or [D A T A B U R S T]. This blending of similar yet respectively distinctive sub-genres creates a lush environment for these compositions to thrive and grow.

The standout track — to me — is the official album closer (not counting the bonus tracks, of course — which include an outtake version of this same track) “Pale Heart”. Throughout its nine minute tenure, Life Education manages to incorporate shimmering acoustic guitar with mesmerizing, fluctuating synth work in such a way that the composition itself feels alive — like a network of vines slowly overtaking an ornate stone structure that sits alone in a valley in some nameless countryside expanse.

This tape is one of three equally rad albums available in bundle form on the Katuktu Collective Bandcamp page. As of writing this, there are only two bundles left — so if I were you I’d make like a tree and grab one of them a-SAP.

Man, sorry about that. Instant apology.

Hypnagogue – Adrift

2.28.19 by Tony Lien

I’m always happy when one word song titles and/or album titles actually turn out to augment the music they are attached to — as opposed to denoting laziness or the depletion of imagination. All those nü-metal bros back in the early 2000s were the undisputed kings of the latter. Remember? I do.

“Adrift” by Hypnagogue (known in the real world as James Rosato) represents the former camp. And, it’s about as far from nü-metal as you can get — a brief, peaceful breeze of minimal electro-acoustic ambience.

To be clear, I’m not just suggesting that the album and the songs that comprise it are aptly named. No, what I’m really suggesting is that three simple words — each one a song title — manage to convey a story (in conjunction with the album name).

The first track “Submerged” introduces a nameless human being swallowed up whole by an ocean of circumstances — and even more so the moment the human realizes that, beyond oneself, one has little control of anyone or anything. The genesis of the onslaught of adulthood, in other words.

The second track “Inward” tells of the choices one makes after being submerged, and the shaping of a complex and imperfect soul. Facing and accepting oneself despite shortcomings and disappointments.

The final track “Fractured Light” represents the jagged, beautiful, kaleidoscopic nature of memories and reflection, and how that light flickers and breaks apart over time. Getting older every day.

Altogether, “Adrift” is simultaneously a heavy and free-floating album; its sounds are lighter than dust particles in stagnant air, but the images projected by them could fill the sky and stretch past the horizon.

J. Hamilton Isaacs – Tolerance Clock

2.19.19 by Tony Lien

Modular compositions built with complex melody in mind are increasingly rare in the experimental electronic world — being that not only is it tempting to just let lawless noise rule the day, but it’s often incredibly difficult to create patches that cooperate on a melodic level. I do not own a modular system myself, so I’m purely basing this off of what I’ve read and what I’ve been told by modular enthusiasts.

Regardless of whether or not you believe this sentiment to be true, the modular music of J. Hamilton Isaacs’ “Tolerance Clock” (available on cassette via Iowa experimental label Warm Gospel) is something to be admired.

Honestly, I think this may be my favorite modular album to date.

The songs build upon themselves from nothing, layer upon layer of arpeggiated bleeps and bloops fitting together in a Tetris-like fashion that almost seems visible if you close your eyes when listening. Interestingly, chopped-up vocal samples occasionally replace more typical modular sounds and lead the compositions into that very particular ‘post-Internet’ territory often championed by Orange Milk Records (see track 3 — especially the last couple of minutes).

Not only do the songs work together to form an almost audiobook-worthy narrative of sorts, but the transitions from section to section within each track create a story-like experience that very much demands the listener’s complete and undivided attention. Such albums that make a person consciously aware of the full effect being lost or disrespected due to a half-hearted listen are pure audio gold — in my humble opinion.

That being said, the amount of work that likely went into these compositions is both dizzying and inspiring — especially considering that these tracks were (I believe) all recorded live. Someday, I plan on venturing into the world of modular. I can only hope to produce something half as hypnotizing and, simply put, cool.

Proud/Father – Symbolic Exchange and Emptiness

2.14.19 by Tony Lien

Simply put, there’s a staggering amount of ambient/soundscape/drone albums out there — and an unfortunate number of them just aren’t worth listening to. It’s a genre that can easily be exploited by the lazy or the uninspired — due to both the ease at which the music can be made and the generally low cost involved in its production. I’ve said it before, and I’m saying it again now. I’ll probably even say it a couple more times in the not too distant future.

Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s discuss what makes the good ambient/soundscape/drone albums worth our time — as listeners.

When it comes to this (sometimes challenging) genre, I feel that a story (or at the very least, a theme) is essential to the creation of a compelling album. What would Brian Eno’s “Ambient 1: Music For Airports” be without the inherent imagery of stagnant terminals, buzzing fluorescent lights and weary travelers’ faces? Just this little bit of extra effort — outside of the music itself — can do wonders for album’s overall effectiveness and emotional impact.

This all comes to mind for me when experiencing “Symbolic Exchange and Emptiness” by Proud/Father — most definitely one of the good ones.

The tape’s liner notes read: “The first side is a reflection of isolation, both physical and emotional, from depression and similar mental health disorders… The second side is an exploration of the fading Boricua culture and the history of Puerto Rican independence movements.”

Just those few sentences alone tell a story that traces and illuminates the contours of the tape’s surprising amount of sounds and textures that whisper gently through the warbles and hiss. Soft wind that blows through open windows at night. Lonely lullabies. The endless vibrations of nearby urban traffic. Uneasy dreams. A colorless world that plays on like an old silent movie. Voices drowned and unintelligible — lost to ignorance, apathy, or clueless governmental administrations.

It does you a minimal amount of good merely reading a brief description of such a towering, beautiful album.  As of writing this, there are still five copies of “Symbolic Exchange and Emptiness” left via the always thoughtful Orb Tapes (out of central Pennsylvania). Give them your money and allow Proud/Father to tell you a story.

Hunted Creatures – Sleep Weed

2.11.19 by Tony Lien

Hunted Creatures is a supergroup of sorts — consisting of White Reeves Productions label heads Micah Pacileo/Ryan Emmett and earth/vessel member Jeremy Yamma. All distinctive noise artists in their own rights, these three dudes have pooled their respective talents together in a cauldron and conjured something quietly magical.

Behold “Sleep Weed.”

The album is so deliciously lo-fi it feels wrong to listen to it on a computer — which I tried after letting it play through on my tape deck. Consider this the first of two instants in which I implore you to buy the physical version of this album.

Tone-wise, the music reminds me of the soundtracks used in 1970s-era nature/science documentaries I used to watch in middle school on VHS. In this sense, the nostalgic element of classic Vaporwave stuff is present. There’s even sort of a meta-Vaporwave moment near the end of the album when the first track is slowed down slightly and repurposed as the sixth track. An unnameable eerie element permeates these tracks as well — but only in that special way strange dreams tend to be eerie. Nocturnal logic abounds.

The overall fabric of the album is held together not only by the music itself but also by Tim Thornton’s (label owner of Suite 309 and the singular mind behind experimental electronic project Tiger Village) mastering work. The unity of sound he was able to achieve is something to be celebrated.

Lastly, it’s worth mentioning that this is an aptly named album. You have a 100% chance of enjoying this music if you’re listening to it in a dark room whilst smoking weed and attempting to drift off into a warm slumber.

Honestly though, you have a 100% chance of enjoying it no matter what. I’ve been a sober guy for a long while now, and it still struck me just as hard as it would have otherwise. As of writing this, there are seven copies remaining on the White Reeves Productions Bandcamp page. There’s my second ‘buy this tape’ plug. Don’t sleep on it.

The Noriegas – Hotel Noriega

2.7.19 by Tony Lien

When it comes to experimental noise music, there’s definitely something to be said about an album’s appositeness for live performance. Specifically, I’m talking about the experience of witnessing the music being played — not so much whether or not it’s possible to reproduce the album’s contents in real time in a public setting. As we all know, a considerable portion of the most intense and groundbreaking music is (these days) made by one person on a laptop — which doesn’t always make for a memorable live experience (even if the projected images playing out behind the bedroom artist do happen to harken back to your favorite 2C-B trip).

You can probably guess why I’m saying this. Yes, “Hotel Noregia” by The Noriegas is most definitely music to be witnessed — not just heard. Of course, it helps that the album is comprised completely of live recordings. Nonetheless, I couldn’t help — during the entirety of my listening experience — imagining myself standing next to a graffiti-tagged water heater in a hazy basement amongst an enraptured clump of fellow noise-heads.

Equal parts free-flowing, guitar-driven bedlam and oft-rehearsed adventures in syncopation, “Hotel Noriega” contains the tenets of classic instrumental post-rock/drone (think Mogwai, Godspeed You Black Emperor! or [newer] Swans) while also existing in its own aggressive, lo-fi dimension that inexplicably reminds me of This Heat (especially when it comes to guitar tone, texture, atmosphere and overall recording quality).

A perpetual 7/4 time signature drives the majority of Side A, while Side B plays out in 11/4 — something I feel that I don’t hear enough when listening to modern noise rock of this caliber. Also worth mentioning is the (very) subtle inclusion of traditional instruments (listen for random banjo noises near the end of Side A, and violin in the tumult of Side B) — which adds yet another level of chance and surprise to what are already relentlessly fluctuating compositions.

Hotel Noriega was released in 2017. Since then, The Noriegas have released six additional albums — all with their own idiosyncratic vibes and killer song titles. Due to the style and approach of their music production, I would venture to guess their Bandcamp is destined to continue piling up with quality transmissions.

However, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t procure some of their cassettes while they still remain. Something tells me these recordings will maintain their relevancy on your cassette shelf — like all quality bootleg-style ephemera tend to do.