If “there’s a gap in between, there’s a gap where we meet,” according
to the old Radiohead standard “Where I End and You Begin,” then Future Daughter
and Matthew D. Gantt don’t seem to acknowledge it. Instead, where the two
artists meet – around the ten-minute mark on their split tape for Orange Milk –
there’s nary an indication that you’re not listening to one seamless whole. And
in fact, if your eyes are closed and you ignore the noise your player makes as
it switches direction once the tape runs out, and I guess if you conveniently
forget that you’re actually listening to two artists, one on each side, you
might be forgiven if you accidentally recommended this cassette to your friends
as the product of a single entity. Sadly, your friends would have a real tough
time figuring out which release to buy on Orange Milk’s page, though, if you
went that route, because as cohesive as these nine tracks are, three are still
made by Future Daughter and six by Matthew D. Gantt, so – pay more attention to
what you’re doing, maybe?
Seamless. Transition. You ever watch ice melt? Water boil? One could
say that although there is a certain point where the temperature rises enough
to enact a change in the state of H2O, that change is so natural and
one stage so perfectly follows the other that the conversion is imperceptible.
We don’t see, with human eyes, the molecules adjusting their density. That’s
the idea put forth by Future Daughter, whose “Solids,” “Liquids,” and “Gases”
make up side A, titled “Ekphrasis,” an intense electronic sound art triptych
where each piece evolves from the last, but each also has such a distinct
flavor that you can’t help but marvel at their uniqueness. That’s before you even
dig into the idea of ekphrasis, a
textual representation of visual art, of which “Ekphrasis” might be considered
a sonic manifestation – of Keith Rankin’s typically spectacular cover art,
maybe? Or something else? (The trio of Future Daughter includes a credit for
“visual director / live visuals.”) Heck, before today, I didn’t even realize
that my reviews essentially constitute ekphrastic
writing, except they’re about music instead of optical media.
After Future Daughter’s time with us ends, the gas state becomes plasma
with Matthew D. Gantt, I guess, and then on to Bose-Einstein condensates by the
end of his spectacular side B, “Plastics.” Plastics isn’t a state of matter,
but hey, that’s OK. And if you want to consider Gantt’s contribution here a
more exotic representation or at least the next logical scientific step, that’s
probably OK. But as I’m precariously navigating the brink of coherence with
this whole theme at this point, perhaps I should edge back from the precipice
and simply state that Gantt’s six contributions, all titled “Music” but
seemingly numbered at random (but probably not), continue the stylistic thread
and expand upon it. In his short pieces, Gantt affirms the electronic trails
blazed by his split-mates (and indeed his label), touching on vaporwave and
plunderphonics at points but maintaining an individual style and approach. It’s
a suite, like Future Daughter’s, that makes sense within itself and in
conjunction with the entirety of the tape.
So in the end, where artists’ particular contributions begin and end
make little difference once Split Series
Vol. II plays out. It is a singular artifact, and one that deserves
undivided and repeat listens.
--Ryan Masteller
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