Lifer. That’s what Sam Gas Can is, a lifer in the outsider
cassette underground. We hear from him periodically, and we rejoice in his
release schedule. Listening to Sam Gas Can is like drinking milk: the calcium from
the process helps promote strong bones. We feel that health determinant
coursing through our bodies. It feels like every day.
Every day of our life this is needed.
Gone Doing is the delivery system, and
just when we thought we’d have Tascam-damaged shoegaze, we got speak-jazz rap.
Just when we thought we got folk’d to the marrow, we heard the transmissions,
we perceived the satellites. I remember the day I first heard Beck’s
Stereopathetic Soulmanure, and Sam Gas
Can’s
Gone Doing hits a lot of those
scattered-yet-cohesive-in-the-scatteredness’s spots. I loved
Stereopathetic Soulmanure at first
sight. I feel the same way about
Gone Doing.
When you’ve done this for a while, you get
comfortable – no, confident in the vision, the focus. Because even when it’s a
bunch of crazy ideas tossed in a pot and stirred beyond recognition or
intention (bah! Look at
me talking
about intention!), the result doesn’t have to curdle. The result can be the
weirdly unified and secretly brilliant work of a dusty old treasure just
waiting to be unearthed from the Northampton, Massachusetts, soil. Is Sam Gas
Can a dusty old treasure?
No, we’ve been over this. He’s milk. Music milk for
the bones. Life-giving, life-happening.
https://samgascan.bandcamp.com/
https://alreadydeadtapes.bandcamp.com/
--Ryan
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