Cerberus Vol.3(13)
Came to me in a vision…
Preamble
I’m not gonna waste your time this week. There’s good music to discuss, it’s why the 7 of you who read this newsletter do so. There’s also some other gab at the end like usual, so if you dig books, guitar pedals, and board games, stick around until the very end.
Reviews
Chris Corsano & Bill Orcutt — Made Out of Sound
Did ya get the first pressing of this sold-out masterstroke from frequent collaborators Orcutt & Corsano? Consider this your reminder to prepare for the summer re-press, or the lovely compact disc version, or maybe you are just a digital body tuned to the cloud universe and prefer to discard all physical media? No judgments in this zone. However you get Made Out of Sound wrapped around your ears, just make sure to do.
What’s so striking this go-round for this formidable duo is how melodic much of the album is. Where both can often fall into formidability and force with their blunt skronks and strikes, the one-two punch of openers “Some Tennessee Jar” and “Man Carrying Thing” captures Orcutt finding many a lilting notes amid a bed of shimmering, sustainable cymbal crashes. Corsano & Orcutt’s brutalism-as-music formations have room for feathery accents and sleek curves.
Much like I.M. Pei, these two are adept at taking hard, immovable matter and organically transforming it into something that is both entirely new and yet still very much of the source materials. The process delivers an inhabitable, hospitable space. None is as striking as “Thirteen Ways of Looking,” which goes against the feeling that this isn’t not entirely the duo’s attempt at jazz. Neither show restraint in their approach, rather they continue to find the raison d’etre for Made Out of Sound. The purpose and the plot unfurl into a blueprint where various elements of music can blend into a unique structure that is not beholden to one movement or style but is an amalgamation of all that is golden ratioed.
R Beny — We Grow in a Gleam
Preservation was one of the labels Cerberus tried to shine its dim light on in its original form. The work Andrew Khedoori was putting into the world via his Sydney-based label was divine. From the choice of musicians, styles, and art, Preservation felt as if it lived up to its name or preserving a moment in time and music.
With Longform Editions, it feels as if Khedoori has taken the next step in this evolution. Many of the label’s pieces equally live up to the label’s plaintive name: longform, single track compositions that try to capture a spacial moment in an ever-evolving timeline. While many of its batches could speak to what I feel when I listen to a release from Longform Editions, I have found myself returning more and more to “We Grow in a Gleam” from Austin Cairns AKA R Beny.
Like a creature being slowly pulled into a tar pit, “We Grow in a Gleam” is a subtle struggle of time and moment. The subject fights its fate, trying desperately to extricate itself from this dying moment. But there isn’t chaos, but quiet in its struggle. It’s the endless flapping of wings from 50 meters away; we are but distance witnesses to this undoing. Eventually, the solitude of this begins to envelop us as well. As the creature succumbs more and more — struggling less and less — it too yields to the hushed environments of time moving by.
Cairns’ composition never rises above a whisper, yet it says a lot about our current surroundings; how we all feel trapped and yet must give in to what must come to pass. The vision of Longform is making sure this is preserved in amber, for future generations to hear and learn from.
Unknown Me — Bishintai
The first thing I noticed about new collective Unknown Me is the presence of H. Takahashi, who makes some of the best meditative music. Yet, in collaboration with Osawa Yuda, Yakenohara, and P-RUFF, the contents of Bishintai are riddled with slight feelings of unease.
The robotic voice greeting us during opener “Beauty, Mind and Body #1” is warm, but yet intentional in their insistence. Serving as an introduction, as if we’ve just been taken out of a long stasis to find Earth is now a utopian paradise of self-realization, it also feels like a world that is trying to manifest itself into something it can’t quite believe itself. Likewise, “Gave on Your Palm” is a curt instruction from a few robotic voices, as if to instruct us where to find the information we need to navigate this new reality; a branding of our long rest now moved into weird wakefulness. The music is unsettled, glitchy, and sweeping despite its dreamy melody. As we follow the instructions, “Breathing Wave” sounds like a full body scan in an ultra-clean room sanitizing us from our old world habits and mindset.
This weird journey toward the future comes with some familiar aids. Foodman, Jim O’Rourke, and Lisa Nakagawa are some of the recognizable aids that will help you on this spiritual journey into this new realm. It is jarring, and at times the facade peels itself back to show that this utopia is not as stable as it appears. But it is not sinister, but rather a series of glitches and systemic reprogramming that will always hit upon obstacles both technological and organic that will stand in its way of reaching fulfillment. But by the time we’ve wondering the luscious landscape of “Can You Hear a New World,” we are now part of this mindful world. We understand that our beauty is from our mind. The world has been recast into a mold where forward thinking and progress toward intelligent is the bigger pursuit in our communal evolution. Though the old us is lost to time, Unknown Me also help us embrace not knowing our new, advanced selves. It’s wise to keep some of that old world skepticism but perhaps we can move forward to a brighter future where not knowing everything about ourselves is the informational power that enlightens us to strive for something bigger than individual self.
Jennifer- Sincerely
For someone who loves the work of Helen and Cindy, it only seems natural that Zachary Thompson Spencer’s project, Jennifer, would automatically crop up on my radar.
It may also have something to do with Spencer’s gentle drones, which cascade over me in incremental movements. Despite posturing as two long-form compositions across two sides of a cassette, each side is also broken into their own pieces of contemplative friction. Everything stays below the boards, refusing to rise louder than a muted statement. But when Sincerely does decide to definitive statement, it is sweeping in its simplicity. Spencer’s work claims many influences — and on Sincerely they are hard to pluck out because of how fragile it all seems — but it doesn’t need to oversell itself for positive results. Sometimes it’s best to move at a glacial pace; to chill rather than bake. Why go nowhere fast when you can get to your ideal destination slowly?
Currently reading A Little Devil in America: Notes in Praise of Black Performance by Hanif Abdurraqub because, duh, Hanif is one of the best essayists and storytellers I can think of when it comes to nonfiction. Robust narratives about life and performance that really pull the reader into the (con)text.
Currently playing the Audio Disruption Device’s Lofi Atmosphere Generator (L.A.G.) pedal. It has two delays which can be set into a series or run parallel, with each delay having its own controls for time and regeneration. But it also houses a nice boost to the signal. I’ve used it to play quiet ambient and drone stuff but also as a means of adding dual delay to create a dirtier, drier signal. Has a lot of range for a six knob pedal.
Checked out an upcoming game from Rock Manor Games titled Merchants of Magick. Easy to learn roll and write that places you in the role of a merchant trying to outfit adventurers with enchanted weapons, armor, and accessories. I’ll have a full review to link to in the coming weeks. If you aren’t playing board games, or think it’s just a world of Monopoly and Scrabble or even Ticket to Ride and Settlers of Catan, I hope — much like music — I can use this space to introduce you to the hobby. Pairs well with all those Bandcamp and vinyl purchases you make.
