Cerberus Vol.3(26)
Featuring Circuit Des Yeux, Ross Hammond, SiP/Prezzano, and Medium Sound’s Program 3 compilation
As the year ends, I see acquaintances writing for more traditional news outlets already lamenting the idea of creating year-end lists that will largely ignore anything new coming out. Sure, this is due to deadlines, editorial resources, et Al. but it is disheartening we continue to rank music. We all have our favorites, and we can line them up to pick from them — I’ve been guilty of it too. But much like I loathe scoring/ratings for albums, I too dislike the idea of ranking art.
So this year I won’t. Yes, I’m sure there will be a newsletter or two at the end of this year/beginning of next year that rounds up 2021 in music as explored in these newsletters, and I’m sure I’ll highlight some of my favorites of the year (one of which is reviewed this week). But I don’t want to put numerals by any album in a means to say one is better than the other because I think we’ve matured past that point. You may have one or two albums that will be the answer to the question of “What was your favorite album of 2021/the 1990s/of all time?” but you know that mood, circumstance, setting, etc. influences what you want to hear at any given time. There’s a reason people have vast vinyl, compact disc, cassette tape, and even digital music collections. There is music for every situation and once you awaken to that fact, then it becomes a matter of curating toward it and being prepared.
I doubt you have your personal collections organized by how you would rank them.
Circuit Des Yeux — -io
The story of Haley Fohr’s ascension is one she has told in countless media in numerous manners. But it’s often best served with her own vision and voice through her musical muse.
I’m lucky to have been on this journey with her as a listener. From her confessional, sparse releases on De Stijl, her flirtations with a power trio, her rise from Thrill Jockey to Drag City to the high rise of Matador. All of it has come with shifts in location, energies, and timbres. Yet Haley’s unwavering resolve and operatic voice has never left. Through it all, she has unwittingly said goodbye to one chapter to openly greet the next, and I have it chronicled through a wealth of vinyl.
The first time I saw Haley perform was in her CDY3 iteration in the backyard on Morris St. just on the outskirts of downtown Indianapolis. It was an awesome afternoon performance in a scene that was loosely connecting Indy, Bloomington, and Lafayette. When we began talking later, she was raving about the startup band Thee Open Sex. She was immersing herself in working with others, collaborating, ever-expanding. It was clear the days of her lower fidelity efforts were shifting.
Fast-forward to her move to Chicago. She began collaborating with musicians in the area (most notably Cooper Crain). Haley’s ideas began taking off and with it her sound grew, becoming more confident and bombastic.
With -io, Haley has is at her apex. She’s become Scott Walker, unafraid of crafting the compositions she envisions without compromise and full of confidence. Even in an album of grief, longing, and loss, -io is brimming with bravado because Haley has reached her final form.
When Haley’s voice confidently wails at the end of “Walking Toward Winter,” I broke down. A song of both hope and resignation, it continues to linger with me even when I’m not listening to it or the album. It’s not only a highlight of this album but of Haley’s canon. I cannot shake its influence.
And this is not unique throughout -io. Every composition is so striking, so fierce, so humbling. When Haley’s voice trembles, so do I. When I feel down, I am lifted by “Oracle Song”; when I am weak, I am strengthened by “Vanishing”.
-io is THE album of these times. Everything is painstakingly perfect because Haley has been building to this moment through years and years of symbiosis. She, like Walker before her, taps into moments and finds the right sound, instrumentation, and timbre to get to the heart of the matter. Yet it does not render anything else before or after obsolete, it’s just a hard reset.
SiP/Prezzano — s/t
Last year, Jimmy Lacy’s SiP project snuck up on me with the stellar Leos Natural. So, I was stoked to lay ears on Lacy’s latest, which is a collaboration with Pete Prezzano. The synth and melodica attack duo continue to mine similar vibes to Leos Natural, though it’s done through longer compositions where ideas and sounds become more meditative. “Pygmalion” is largely built around a two-chord melody that is peaceful and rhythmic, creating a poppy trance to get lost within. “Cathedral Blues” is a dreamy pop-drone where the interplay behind the melody is just as entrancing as the simplicity on which the song is built. Another stellar release from Lacy and I am really digging Prezzano’s interplay, so here’s hoping this duo continues to work together because if this is any indication, the trajectory is upward.
Various Artists — Program 3: Sonic Communications from the Circle City, Midwest & Other Far Off Places
Faithful readers of these works are familiar with the skill and talents of Landon Caldwell and Mark Tester, but how often can sanyone also claim “curator” on their artistic CV and be confident in those choices as representing both a region and a label’s ethos?
Caldwell and Tester’s Program 3 is the latest effort by their Medium Sound label to chronicle the experimental Midwest (and beyond). While Caldwell and Tester have a few great contributions of Program 3 (together and individually), it’s the other unknowns and overlooked. Stone Chambers’ “Flowers” has a beauty within its isolated, lo-fi production as piano notes twinkle above a lazy tropical rhythm. Peter & The Kings are one of the best-kept secrets of Indianapolis, but “Where” is precisely the sort of song to get them a bit more recognition outside the Circle City.
The art of Program 3 is presenting disparate sounds under a loose collection of like-minded people. It functions more as a scene report than a compilation, explaining how these artists are both influenced and untouched by each other and their surroundings. In fact, it feels the next logical step for Caldwell is to turn these reports into ‘zines to accompany the music, but in the meantime it’s easy to let the music do most of the wordless talking for itself.
Ross Hammond — It’s Been Here All Along
Prescott Recordings/LP; CD; DL
The title of Hammond’s latest is a loaded phrase. Blanketed by this ghostly resonator guitar, each of Hammond’s solo guitar compositions play into this idea that whatever one is experiencing, feeling, or enduring, it’s been here all along. Nothing is new, just the way it is expressed.
Which is also the draw of Hammond’s guitar work. His blues and folk-inspired It’s Been Here All Along is both familiar but wholly new to a generation that has so little interaction with either genre in this purer form. There is little between the listener and Hammond’s guitar. It’s an organic album, but that does not mean it is boring or even traditional. “Do’Em Blues” has all the earmarks of some forgotten folk song, but its structure is pop-based. Hammond is taking modern pop and rock ideas and folding them into his playing. “Blue Hoodie,” much like its titular item, has a warm, familiar feeling to it. I’m reminded of the play style of Ellen McIlwaine (who passed earlier this year) when I hear it. There’s something comfortable about Hammond’s approach but yet it slightly skirts tradition and what’s expected for a flavor that is unique to him and the moment.
But as the title states, It’s Been Here All Along also speaks that Hammond isn’t about reinvention. The thesis is one that’s hard to argue. Whatever trying times we may be enduring, there will always be a bluesy folk song that told us decades ago that the hard times are always on the prowl, and it’s on us to find our way home.
Twitter: @genxsaisquoi @cerberuszine
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