Played it on a small 'mono' speaker (which you can hitch up to a personal CD-player) that someone bought me 6 years ago – so not exactly high-end hi-fi – but this still sounded verrrrry agreeable.
It's Drone, see (as opposed to drone: that generic tag that folks in the Noise / Weirdo scene apply if their jams don' have many notes in 'em), the capital letter here intended to infer, of course, that this is the Proper Job Stuff.
(Hope I got the titles right -- 3 pieces versus, erm, 23 'titles', but maybe it doesn't matter, maybe you find you own title / name / visuals to fit...)
Track 1 (“Arriving / Tulsa”), even on a shit mini-system, made me feel right furred-up and slinky while painting, and no it weren't the paint. I knew it would sound waaaay better on a decent stereo played thru some decent speakers and, sure, it does... the music shifts and shines and hemi-throbs: layers sliding n shifting across one another – this is waking-dream-inducing music // dream-machine pulse, its overtones dancing like sparkling electron-dots in the air above my speakers, occasionally building themselves up into triangular chime-structures, occasional pyramids of delay (?). There's a niiice moment a few minutes in where I – sleep-deprived, it must be said, but I make no apologies for me impressionistic rambles – zoned out briefly and felt as if I was inside some humming, dazzling-bright stark-white control room, walking amongst the emanations of un-namable... units (washing-machines, old mainframe disk-drives, vast ionisers?), their shapes vague in the brightness, but I could feel the trembling touch of their electromagnetics. This is lobe-morphing stuff fer sure – *proper* Drone. About 14, 15 mins in, the lower-end pulses evaporate, leaving layers of shivering treble and what sounds like someone rummaging in a bucket*... and for a moment, the meditational and the, er, mundane seem to merge – the outer world re-enters – intrudes on – the inner skullspace opened up by the tones.
“Seven Desks by an Open Window” feels... 'softer', gentler; the sounds have less of an 'edge' to them, less shine, more mids, I guess. Initially, the tones felt like they were shifting upwards (an illusion, almost certainly), but after a few minutes they seem to then slowly move 'down' – both in terms of pitch and physical movement. Again, an artefact of the music; a trick of the senses. At about 6 mins in, I'm imagining (eyes open) a series of small and medium-sized spinning disks hovering in the air, an engine without any purpose. Spinning plates without a pole. My eyes are flickering slightly, something is approaching in the low-to-mid end of the frequency spectrum – slightly too high to be classed as a throb – I'm thinking of a column that's generating its own electricity, a big one, possibly the size of a high-rise building. Dark stone, an obelisk dipole.
“6th July 1984” sneaks up on you slowly thru its mids; a glassy tone, initially – like a sloooow buzz-saw made from Venetian glass or dull, thick-cut crystal cutting its way through some light-weight, barely-imaginable metal. There's a riiiiinging coming in now – Wineglasses from the Machineshops of the Vedic Other – slicing in thru the overtones, singing in me ear... yesterday, listening on crap mono-speaker, it sounded like the piece was auto-generating it's own phone ring-tones as the sound-layers piled up on the cheap, barely-able-to-cope system. Today, it's spacious, luminous, multi-layered and – ohmyword, loud... well, maybe not loud (no lights flashing on me amp), but the illusion of loud as the tones stack themselves up and commingle. There's something faintly serpentine about all this too; the sounds don't seem to merely pan back n forth, but execute a slow wormy-like wriggle, perform a figure-o-eight thru ear-space, wh/ is kinda appropriate from something released on the legendary Fencing Flatworm Recordings...
It's GOOD. Righteous stuff.
Turns out I'm in exactly the right place to hear and appreciate this after witnessing my friend Glen Steenkiste's remarkable harmonium and shruti-box Drone set at Tor ist Das where he put 150, 200 people into a half-sleep zone and had the rest swaying on feet or seat squinting thru slitted eyes...
It's Drone, not drone. Gotit?
Music to not just reset the mind back to its factory defaults, but wh/ is also oddly innervating & energising – it seems to 'wake up' / focus part of mind (and body) while simultaneously decluttering other bits. There's something oddly, I dunno, punky about this... Drone is not at all as 'passive' as its detractors would have you believe.
* = it turns out it was horse-shoes.