More White Reeves Productions releases please! I’ve just discovered
this Pittsburgh-based label, and I want more, right now. Did you hear me? If my
gratification is not instant, it’s not fricking gratification now, is it? No
way. So you’ll just have to get on it, there, Ryan Emmett.
Why do I single out Ryan Emmett you say? Is it because it’s his tape
you’re reviewing? No. Far from being part of the problem (which I’ll get to in
a second), Ryan’s tape is quite good, and I’m going to flip it over again after
it’s done and re-listen to it. I single him out because he operates the label,
along with Micah Pacileo, so the release schedule is on him. The problem, as
alluded to, is that White Reeves only releases “limited edition physical
documents of adventurous sound artists and musicians who are part of or friends
of the White Reeves family.” The disclaimer adds, “Unfortunately we cannot
accept demos at this time.” There it is! They’re actively not trying to release music by likeminded artists just
because they don’t know them! For
shame, Ryan Emmett. For shame.
I half kid, only because the releases I’ve heard from the label
(Earth/Vessel’s self-titled tape being the other) are superior, far-out
experimental excursions to who bloody knows where. The mere suggestion that I’m
clamoring for more after only hearing two of the six releases in the catalog
should be an indication that these dudes are on to something. Something big.
Emmett builds sound formations using, I dunno, whatever he can find. What comes
out is electronic-ish, noise-ish, but melodic, a world of weird possibilities
and diversions. Think of Good Willsmith and the Caretaker unceremoniously
smooshed together, along with other, equally interesting artists. It’s a
milkshake!
This tape is really all over the place. Opener “The Never Ending Bend”
teases with dank synth tones and flickering samples, then blooms (if you want
to call it that) with a brass dirge. Tracks like “A Newly Polished Mirror” (parts
1 and 2) and “Almost There” feature queasily rendered instrumentation, such as sweet
piano or strings, with ghostly ambient field recordings. “A Little Clicking
Cupboard” even lives up to its name with a slight IDM pulse underneath the
layers.
The title track, which at almost fifteen minutes stretches all across
side B, is a diversion from the diversion, as it morphs into a warped version
of a country and western song (think Roy Rogers, not Blake Shelton) piped in
across dimensions, a ghost song sung by a ghost. Then it becomes an
interstellar ambient prog passage for its remaining runtime, a gorgeous
transmission from somewhere in the direction of the Virgo Cluster. It ends too
soon.
So uh – I’m going to go to the website and buy the other tapes that
didn’t come in my batch. Race you to the last copies!
--Ryan Masteller
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