ENDURANCE / PJS
“S/T” C42
(Crash Symbols)



Endurance’s first track, “Outside”, sounds like absofuckinglutely nothing of the sort, but rather, a claustrophiliac colony of sleek, copper stalactites, each trembling furiously, filling some unseen cavernous space with ring and hum until a raging, white-noise/white-water rapid of trebly fog and one lone frog each washes the very ear canal clean, out past the event horizon. 

It is in this relentless sincerity of intensity that one lover of all things Stefane/Muzan Editions will recognize why the generally bombastic & beat-centric Crash Symbols should put out such an, on the surface, reflective, calming artist’s work…&It’s a gorgeous and exhilirating 11:41 opener, a truly perfect representative mix for both labels’ overlapping essences. 

The second track, “Waystation”, finds JS back in more familiar, peaceful territory, stalwartly performing his hallucinogenic weavings of field recording, morphing static, and core-targeted drone work,  all of these just realigning the everlovingshit out of any concerted ear’s chakra’s earth-fork or whatever the hell that is that’s bound to be just purring deep down inside, once the track is through.

PJS, whose acronym might as well stand for “Pajama Jam Squad ”, is the absolute ambient bliss-out duo of Jordan Christoff* and Patrick Dique, and their side (b) long, 20+ minute odyssey, “Parallels”, synthesize(r)s the droning swells of a warm ocean sunrise along with its meandering surf-hiss and retreating shells & pebbles, a la late SotL something soporifically fierce and in the absolute very best way even possible.

The eternally good mood brought on by this tape would gift well as paired with its antidote, Crash Symbols’ release-date-mate, “Death By Misadventure”*, both releases having just come out on December 13th. Listen back to back to get ripped apart a little bit inside.
and/or

—Jacob An Kittenplan

*JC also, along with (but not like "on a split-with”) Endurance, had a tape out through Constellation Tatsu in the last year or two!
**by Mrs. Dink

ZELL ROW “Siren Songs” C10 (Glowing Dagger)


Zell Row’s got the darkwave thing down: propulsive drum machine rhythms, eerie synth, post-punk bass, all accompanied by her sultry voice (a discussion of which shouldn’t exclude singers like Siouxsie and Hope Sandoval). Amanda Martinez is the artist behind Zell Row, and this initial missive is a great introduction. Three tracks, three deeply entrancing tunes, three times I’m crashing my ship into rocks (because, you know, the siren thing). One EP simply isn’t enough – we’ll have to be patient, I guess, for a little bit more…

Till then, you’ve got ten minutes of puslingly zoney (or zoningly pulsing) Zell Row tracks to get through. Hop to it!



--Ryan

MRS. DINK
“Death by Misadventure” C51
(Crash Symbols)



Peaking through a relentlessly housey metronome, Mrs. Dink (aka Meagan Johnson/Degenerate Trifecta) lead-pipes in some overt-like-man-I-mean-O-M-I-N-O-U-S-for-R-E-A-L vibes that keep constantly hopscotching between a warehouse rave and a professional slaughterhouse-haunting. It’s hard not to imagine glory-days Wesley Snipes getting fucking DOWN to this while lifting weights or working on his chopper or breaking up a smoky, strobe-lit dog-fighting ring, or something equally bad-ass like that, and I’d wager to guess that Washington State’s MJ didn’t necessarily have all of this in mind, per se, but certainly had some other equally dark attitude set up, indelicately and deliberately!

This intense long-burner would pair well with an ol’ Crash Worship alum, Don Gero, and their “Wizarding" album, as both are internal-reproductive-organs-to-the-wall-intense in their sonic battery and merciless rhythmic onslaught. No shit. Listen to this well before sunset if you’re planning on winding down AT ALL*.

and/or

—Jacob An Kittenplan

*or read tomorrow’s review for the antidote…

CHECK ENGINE PALACE “Untitled Release” C28 (Endangered Species Tapes)


I leave Pennsylvania, and they start in with the tape labels. Well hey, PA, I ain’t coming back. I’ve left. I’m gone. You had your chance – for, like, decades – and now I’m out. Your wicked musical cassettes can’t entice me to return!

But this isn’t about me and my Pennsylvanian regret. This is about Doug Polgardy and HIS Pennsylvanian regret! Probably. Allentown’s Endangered Species Tapes certainly isn’t NOT enabling him here, and just because I was born in Allentown Hospital doesn’t give them a free pass to ratchet up the existential angst of an Eastern PA existence. What DOES give everybody a free pass to do everything pretty much however the heck they want is the droning tonal torture Polgardy’s inflicting on us, an aural waterboarding that actually leaves you begging for more waterboarding! Not sure how that metaphor works, but bear with me … or don’t, it’s up to you. What I can tell you is this: Check Engine Palace knows how to get under your skin with a fairly minimal palette, and it’s not really the aural equivalent of waterboarding but more of someone gently chiseling at your face.

And you’re a T-800 Terminator in this scenario.

These five tracks glow like nefarious radiation leaks. Prepare accordingly and enjoy liberally.




--Ryan

BBJR “Tragedy ± Time” C86 (Personal Archives)


In a brilliant subversion of the C86 genre, Bob Bucko Jr., resident purveyor of Personal Archives, drops Tragedy ± Time, a collection of his own home-recorded work from throughout the year. Wait, did I say subversion of the C86 genre? I mean he doesn’t even come close to it! The times just add up that way. Nothing more to see here.

Instead, there’s a manifesto, and we’d be wise to heed it: “Home taping won’t save music … but it can keep it fun.” Despite the pessimistic attitude of the first part of that declaration (home taping won’t save music? Says YOU, Bucko!), the second part is where you can pony up and really put your money where your mouth is – or where independent tape labels keep their cash (many use massive wall safes the size of bank vaults). BBJR knows about that second part. He keeps it fun.

Comprising a variety of experiments recorded September 2019, Tragedy ± Time is a clearinghouse of solo Bucko improvisations. I thought it was all going to be guitar work at first, but there’s some noise and other guitar work in there. What makes it fun (hence the manifesto) is Bucko’s distinct refusal to cater to genre or style, or even to transition from one thing to the next in a coherent way … which of course makes the whole thing ultra-coherent because of its disparity. Gosh, I love contradicting myself.

This tour tape was lovingly put together by Bucko himself – it comes in an edition of fifteen, and the whole thing was home dubbed and put together with scissors, tape, and construction paper, “just like in the GOOD OLD DAYS amirite!” (Yes.) And like any self-respecting underground label head, BBJR has packaged this lovely tape with a bunch of random stuff. I got a postcard and some stickers and a keychain. It was like Christmas. Plus, my copy, like the others, was dubbed onto recycled tape – this one Comedy from the Golden Age of Radio from the Phil Harris and Alice Faye Show. Brilliant!

Life is cruel, though; Tragedy ± Time is now sold out. We fade into nothingness.


--Ryan

SANGAM “The Night After” (Doom Trip Records)


Sangam is all environment. The veteran artist pops up again on Doom Trip, and it’s a nocturnal affair – this release is called The Night After, after all. Sure, you’re bound to get gloomy when you’re in the business of soundtracking late-night contemplations and ruminations and regrets. But in the midst of all that self-reflection, all that soul-searching, the odds that you’ll find a little glimmer of hope in there, a little flicker of inspiration, are firmly stacked in your favor. How can you not extract some inner peace from this? Once you’ve got that light at the end of the tunnel, all that’s left is for you to create the environment.

Sangam is all environment.

Like Badalamenti in the rain, Sangam knows how manage a synthesizer for maximum emotional impact. And yeah, while The Night After is certainly quite sad, the somber approach to worldbuilding yields some tremendously honest and insightful results. All this meditating on one’s life – be it as a whole or specific pieces, like something that happened, oh I don’t know, the night before maybe – allows us to fix our gaze inward in a search for tranquility that may not be outwardly evident. Sangam gets in the head of anyone who feels that the only way forward in their life is to revel in the chaos and use it to propel them onward into the unknown. It’s exhilarating, sure, but it’s also scary as hell – The Night After acts as a centering agent, as an eye in the storm.

With the clouds overhead and the steady drumbeat of raindrops on your umbrella, you can turn your collar up against the wind, against anything, really – and Sangam in your headphones gives you a resolve to keep pushing forward. It’s all about your environment.



--Ryan

THE SHEEN “Trash Hazard” (self-released)


No wave atonality meets punk vitriol in a trash compactor. That’s the hazard: you get squooshed. That’s the trash: you’re force-fed it. The Sheen chomps down hard on it all and squirms around in it. They gorge; they regurgitate. They are squooshed all up in the compactor. They yank hard on those guitar strings; they blow hard into those saxophones. Everything else is also played hard, yelled hard. The Sheen is covered in parasites. They make music covered in parasites.



--Ryan