8Sided Blog

a zine about sound, culture, and the punk rock dream

Ralph Kinsella and the Poetics of Bedroom Listening

· Leave a Comment

Ralph Kinsella contacted me through this blog and emailed a link to his just-released Bandcamp-only Abstraction EP. The tunes blew me away — this was an ambient music I wanted to hear, melodic and optimistic, dynamic rather than constant, and featuring guitars, both processed and clear. I wrote about it in a previous segment, giving the Abstraction EP high marks. But, behind the scenes, I emailed Ralph asking if he thought of following up with an album. And if he’d like my 8D Industries imprint to release it.

Ralph responded with the completed demo of his album Lessening. Though recorded at the same time as the Abstraction EP, Lessening felt like a step forward. Hearing Ralph’s music at a 50-minute stretch suited his sonic world-building. The music is glistening and evolving, taking on suggestive textures that convey movement from place-to-place. I’m loath to bring up ‘the lockdown,’ but these hopeful, outward-reaching tones are an antidote to seclusion.

Today Lessening is available on all the streaming platforms as well as Bandcamp. I can’t think of a better way for 8D Industries to close out this year of uncertainty — it’s an album of hesitant lightness and a resolve to keep going. 

I briefly spoke to Ralph Kinsella about this album, his music, and the beautiful part of Scotland where he resides. 

——————

I take it Abstraction is your debut under your own name. If so, what’s your background before that? I believe you were in a band or bands, correct? 

Ralph Kinsella: Abstraction and Lessening are the first records I recorded alone, and roughly at the same time, during the COVID-19 lockdown. They are siblings in that way, separated at birth. I wanted to do nothing more than capture something — a feeling, an emotion, maybe. Certainly, the unassailable need for extended and stretched forms of expression. Hopefully, listeners might relate to feelings of detachment and piercing melancholy, as I felt when making the records. 

I spent a long time improvising and experimenting with sounds in the lead-up to these releases. Before making these sounds, I was in various bands (mostly lo-fi bedroom rock). 

Tell me a little about your recording process. Anything surprising, either in technique, location, or even the gear you use? Do you approach the music with a ‘philosophy’? 

I record everything in a spare bedroom, and all the music starts with improvisation — usually on guitar (or synth) with a series of effects pedals. I try to use as little equipment as possible: a Stratocaster, harmonium, delay pedals, a cheapo synth, and a good synth. I use Logic Pro essentially as an eight-track. Limitations are the most important thing for me when working alone. So I avoid using any plugin instruments or too much DSP after recording. Like Keats, the philosophy is ‘truth’ – even though no such thing exists.

As a guitarist, how did you fall into this ambient style of music? Who are your inspirations/long-distance mentors for developing this sound?

The Swedish record label, Häpna, changed my life as a teenager. I’ve been obsessed with experimental music with post-rock leanings ever since. I’d go to Monorail Records in Glasgow and pick up anything new from the label (usually based on the cover art – the aesthetic curated by the label/artists was wonderful). I found the record labels and artists contributing to this creative ecosystem inspiring. It showed me a different model, one centered on creative expression.

At the moment, I enjoy listening to (and trying my best to understand) the music of Elaine Radigue, Francis Dhomont, Loren Conners, and, most recently, Cucina Povera. I think they’ve all been unknowingly collaborating with me for a while now.

When I reviewed the Abstraction EP, I pegged it as “bright, gentle, and optimistic.” Do you think that’s a fair assessment? If so, how do you arrive at that ‘vibe’ when a lot of ambient electronic music nowadays is dark and droney? And the world being dark and droney, too?

You’re right – I’m always looking for a way to make instrumental (and more left-field music) without the ‘higher access mode’ approach (by that I mean, the “my music is hard to listen to, therefore it must know more than you do” approach). I like to thread/tread fine ground between pop/experimental and abstract/structure.

Tell me a little bit about Dumfries and Galloway. I know much of The Wicker Man was filmed in the vicinity, which is wild. How does the landscape affect the music?

Liminal, fringe spaces are always interesting places for creativity. The way that land visually falls away into the sea in the imagery of The Wicker Man has a similar energy to the kind of stuff I’m interested in: where rural and (semi-rural) Scotland uncomfortably meet urban areas. The boondocks, interspersed with fragments of debris and flickering housing scheme street lights. These places (and the artistic exploration of these places) imbue my work. 

Is there an ideal listening environment or frame-of-mind for Lessening? 

The records (as with most music of this genre) require a certain amount of engagement. The pieces are musical conversations – they want to start a dialog with the listener and, I think, reject passivity. I like the poetics of the bedroom for music listening – that’s where I created the music, and that’s where it probably resonates best. 

• Ralph Kinsella’s Lessening is out now on 8D Industries.

#Worktones: Autechre, Oliver Coates, Giadar

· Leave a Comment

Autechre – SIGN → Sasha Frere-Jones interviewed the legendary Autechre in one of his recent SF/J newsletters. It’s a lovely interview, with insight into the new album’s mechanics and how the duo manages to work together from different cities in COVID-times. But a highlight is the prose of Frere-Jones — I love how he writes about the music he loves. Check out his on-point description of Autechre’s album:

SIGN flirts with disintegration but only lightly, throwing its weight into a smooth ravine lined with translucent panels and reflective tape, a river of light running below the wind of turbines.

That’s a chilling reminder that I really need to work on my metaphors. But that won’t stop me from dropping some words of my own about this fascinating album.

Undoubtedly, there’s programming and coding involved in making this music. Numbers and figures set into a machine, then let loose to create tones and noises. How random are these tracks? Is this set-it-and-go music? Like Eno’s generative experiments, the process would border on ‘the joke’s on us’ if the result weren’t so lovely. 

I also like how this album can float in the background but is also open to deep listening. In other words, SIGN is a prime #Worktones candidate but also enjoys attentive ear-analysis. I haven’t immersed myself in Autechre’s back catalog in a while, but I can’t recall other efforts sharing these opposing qualities throughout an entire tracklist. 

SIGN has already received its fair share of accolades — and also criticism of what some see as a compromised sound. As the follow-up to an eight-hour album, SIGN won’t seem anything but a compromise to those critics. But, for me, the tug-of-war between the off-putting and the inviting is a sweet spot. Autechre’s done it, and, judging by how many times I’ve already listened to SIGN, it’s right in the pocket. 

——————

Oliver Coates – skins n slime → The new album from the innovative cellist finds Coates exploring his mesmerizing string-layers in forms halfway between compositional and textural. The music is also lightly confrontational, Coates’s instrument overdriven to excess and crackling with electricity. skins n slime appears separated into two sections, with the five-part “Caregiver” suite comprising the first half while the second half begins after a brief song ‘from The Bird Game soundtrack.’ “Caregiver part 2 (4am)” and “Caregiver part 5 (money)” are striking by how the strings take on the quality of either a distorted harmonium or Robert Fripp’s multi-layered guitar-tronics. Other moments resemble the cathartic plod of dark metal, a righteous feat for an artist working primarily with looped cello. The highlight for me is “Honey,” the penultimate track described in a RVNGIntl. press release as “tender, individual moments of pure cello beside decaying drone and the soaring planes.” It’s lovely, and I could listen to it all day.

——————

Giadar – Lost In My Underwater Unconscious → I recently watched this video essay about ‘the meaning of swimming pools in movies.’ The narrator tells us that filmic pools and bodies of water are often symbolic of a character’s subconscious feelings and thoughts. Dario Giardi, recording music as Giadar, captures this sentiment with his gorgeous EP, Lost In My Underwater Unconscious. The five tracks — each named after a different word in the release title — study ambient music’s melodic strain. The thematic inspiration and overall sound classify as ‘new age’ but lack the pomp and schmaltz often found in that genre. Piano’ed tones, embraceable synth pads, and iced gully reverbs pleasantly spill over these tracks. Dario tells me, “We have reached a kind of alienation from sound that has turned us into passive players without being aware of it. We are no longer used to paying attention to the features of what Murray Schafer has termed our soundscape.” Through his soundscapes, Schafer promoted the idea of acoustic ecology — understanding our relationship with the surrounding environment through the sounds around us. As Giadar, Dario explores this gentle power and its capability for healing — a welcome prospect in a year of turmoil. This EP, his debut, I believe, is a promising addition to a greater curative mission.

#Worktones: Ralph Kinsella, epic45, M. Sage

· 2 Comments

It’s been a while since I rounded up some #Worktones that are inhabiting the home office via a pair of strategically placed desk-top speakers. Here are three albums that provide a calming concentration in these frazzling times.

Ralph Kinsella is a Scottish guitarist hailing from Dumfries and Galloway, a region primarily known to some (me) as the filming location of The Wicker Man. He reached out to the blog with a ‘check out my music’ email. I do listen when emailed (unless I’ve been bcc’ed, in which case I don’t), but I rarely receive delightful surprises like what Ralph had in store. His Abstraction EP is a gorgeous 5-tracker filled with soft, layered tones and subtle shoegaze moments. The guitar is front-and-center but awash in reverb and delay and accompanied by electronics and atmospherics. I’d describe Ralph’s EP as bright, gentle, and optimistic — as if Sarah Records released ambient music. I’m especially welcoming this sort of music into my life right now, and I can’t wait to hear Ralph’s future efforts. The Abstraction EP is a free download on Bandcamp, so there’s nothing to stop you from grabbing it. [LINK]

Continuing with more UK-based guitar ambiance, I was happy to discover We Were Never Here, the latest release from epic45. Rob Glover and Benjamin Holton, who make up the core of the band, started this project in 1995 while still in their early teens. epic45’s discography is a dozen-plus strong, and, sadly, I’m not familiar with any of it. But I take it this beatless and vocal-free album is a slight departure. A limited compact disc version of the album came with a booklet of photos of “familiar suburban and semi-rural ‘nowhere places’ that exist between large towns and cities.” The music matches this description, as these songs evoke vast, stumbled-upon locations — not the intended destination but compelling nonetheless. The sound is lush and memory-inducing, and, in addition to the occasional guitar, a menagerie of instruments, textures, and field recordings float from track-to-track. We Were Never Here is music for movies you watch with your eyes closed. [LINK]

M. Sage is a #Worktones veteran, and I previously remarked on the ‘happy accident’ spirit and sense of emergence I picked up from his music. Cattails & Scrap Tactics is his “collection of fragments, sketches, environments, and atmospheres,” compiled for Bandcamp’s June 5 artist-appreciation day, with all proceeds donated to Chicago’s My Block My Hood My City organization. I can hear the sound of an artist experimenting and wandering, but these are hardly rescued discards. It’s an album of thought bursts, welcoming attention and standing still as a complete document of the creative question. And it’s often beautiful and filled with exciting ideas. You’ll spot a guitar here, too, alongside a bevy of unidentifiable and mostly peaceful sounds to tickle the eardrums. If you’d like a download, you might be too late — the album was only available for purchase on June 5 as a special one-off. But it’s still streaming on the site — and that might be only temporary, too, so listen while you can. [LINK]

🔗→ Follow me on Bandcamp

#Worktones: Onlee’s United Isolation Ambient Mix

· Leave a Comment

Our ‘strange times’ lockdown has inspired many artists and DJs to create ambient mixes. These mixes help calm the thoughts and nerves of others, especially those not used to working from home for long stretches. But it’s safe to say these mixes also serve the DJs creating them — something is reassuring and meditative in compiling a set focused on texture rather than beats.

My good friend Boris, DJ’ing as Onlee and running the cool experimental techno label Lichen Records, has undoubtedly delivered on both results with his United Isolation Ambient Mix. It’s nearly four hours long and reaches into selections that aren’t too dark or dramatic but never dull. There’s no tracklist, but, honestly, keeping tabs on the songs would distract from treating this as one long evolving soundscape.

I’ve played this in the home office for the last few days, and it’s effectively kept rogue brainwaves at bay. So, yes, this mix is a suitable prescription for strange, unsettling times.

#Worktones: Middle Eastern Experimentation, Kalbata ft. Tigris, Jason Lytle

· Leave a Comment

Let’s dip into some music that I’m listening to while toiling away in my cosey home office. This is the latest in an ongoing blog concern that I’m calling #Worktones.

As stated in the label’s mission statement, Unexplained Sounds Group aims to ‘investigate the experimental worldwide music scene.’ This investigation includes a series of smart compilations highlighting different countries and territories — places that don’t immediately spring to mind when one thinks of ‘experimental music.’ Evidently, it’s time for that misconception to change as these releases — which include discoveries in Africa, the Balkans, and Lebanon — are uniformly exceptional. The latest is an Anthology of Contemporary Music from Middle East, a stunning collection of 16 artists hailing from countries like Egypt, Bahrain, Kuwait, Iran, Israel, Iraq, and Palestine. This is Venn diagram music, connecting a circle of tradition with one of bold exploration. The tunes wander from ambiance to hypnotic drones to heady collages, combining into a fascinating if sometimes divergent whole. For starters, check out Nilüfer Ormanli’s “Art of Dying,” one of the few tracks with a vocal, though it quickly gives way to a synthesized mantra.

Lingering in the same geographic zone, I discovered the new album by electronic producer Kalbata on the terrific Fortuna Records. Past releases I’ve sampled from Kalbata dip sonic toes in both techno and Balearic styles, revealing an eclectic ‘don’t pin me down’ attitude. This eclecticism is stretched further with Vanrock, a collaboration with Israeli ‘psychedelic afro-pop band’ Tigris. These upbeat jams deliver an exotic and rhythmic flair — sweet percussion, jazzy analog synth riffage, and low-tuned guitars over Kalbata’s electronic foundations. The fusion is fast-and-furious with the opening salvos of “Safu” and “Vanrock,” but the possibilities of this collaboration really come together with the techno-enhanced “Satan Speaks!” At six tracks, this is one of those rare releases that leaves you wanting a lot more. Hopefully, it’s not the last union of these two acts.

Jason Lytle was/is a member of Grandaddy (this song has always been a favorite), and he seems to be aiming for my heart with his latest solo effort. I mean, an album made with nothing but a Roland Juno synth (sounds like a 106 to me) and a guitar is bound to win me over. This is the world of Lytle’s NYLONANDJUNO, a gentle set of tunes created for an Arthur King Presents art installation. The instrumentation constraint yields loveliness, especially on the first track, “Hitch Your Wagon To A Falling Star.” It does sound like a star falling from the sky — the Juno providing the inky night and the echoed guitar representing slow-motion fireworks. It’s beautiful. The climate is subdued throughout, with the synthesizer and guitar trading the foreground on different tracks. Once again, I’m made to regret selling my Junos. (h/t danielfuzztone)

#Worktones: Loscil, M. Sage, Dytomite Starlite Band of Ghana

· 1 Comment

Here’s a trio of excellent musical selections that have been permeating the home office this past week. It’s the latest installment in a series that I’m calling #Worktones.

Before knowing the photographic inspiration behind Equivalents, I mentally described the sound of the album as ’the hum of weightlessness.’ I wasn’t too far off. Those photos are a series of black and white pictures of clouds, captured and decontextualized by artist Alfred Stieglitz in the mid-to-late ‘20s. Some consider this work the first intentionally abstract photo-art statement. Here Loscil (the Vancouver-based musician Scott Morgan) deploys processed piano in sonic washes and layers that can recall an imaginative session of cloud-watching. Many only see uniform clouds in the sky — an everyday occurrence — while the lucky ones stop to pick out distinctive shapes, implications, and gentle reminders. Equivalents welcomes a similar exercise, rewarding the deep listener with soothing impressions of an atmospheric terrain.

Catch a Blessing is an adventurous album, in that it has the feeling of exploring unworn paths and venturing down overgrown trails. The album begins with the lively “Avondale Primer Gray,” hinting at randomness and an embrace of the ‘happy accident.’ But as things in nature experience emergence, the ensuing tracks, though sonically unconnected, appear to gather into themes that are just out of grasp. M. Sage, the artist behind this work, assists the experience with field recordings — such as the nostalgic fireworks of “Polish Triangle” — and guest musicians providing beautiful and exotic strings to “Window Unit + Three Flat.” But it’s the short but moving “Michigan Turquoise” that stands out, a lonely ballad complete with a looped guitar strum, seabird calls, and a mournful crooner transported by magic from a distant time.

It’s not all strange ambient music playing at the workspace. Some days (Monday mornings?) require an uplift, music that’s got some get-up-and-go. And I don’t know about you, but I can’t work alongside songs with words, especially when I’m writing. But there’s an exception for languages I don’t understand, especially when rhythmically sung in mesh with the instrumentation. This reissue of a rare 1982 album from Africa’s mysterious Dytomite Starlite Band of Ghana fits the bill. I say ‘mysterious’ as BBE, the reissuing label, doesn’t have much information on those involved. The songs are wonderful and instantly improve the mood and feature more than a few tight synthesizer riffs. I love listening to this stuff. I’m presently reading Rosewater, a terrific novel set in future Nigeria, so there’s some geographical synergy in my media consumption. FYI: BBE is quickly reissuing decades-old albums from the extensive back catalog of Nigerian label Tabansi Records and this is one of many in that series. The titles I’ve heard so far are consistently worth your time.

🔗→ Follow me on Bandcamp

#WorkTones: Mileece, Laraaji, Roedelius

· 1 Comment

As I toil away in the home office, I often listen to quiet, experimental music from artists found on Bandcamp. I’ve started collecting and writing about these albums in a series I’m calling #Worktones. Here’s the 2nd installment:

It’s rare to hear something as simultaneously captivating and gentle as the series of staccato ‘pings’ found on Formations. Mileece — an artist who happens to be the granddaughter of the man who programmed the first computer-generated song — is fascinated by seemingly random processes in nature: the patterns of a snowflake, or the leaves of a fern, or rain’s gradual effect on a landscape. Applying this obsession to music construction creates rules within randomness, and we’ve taken to calling this ‘generative music.’ 2003 was an early time to purposefully dabble in generative electronics but Formations sounds seasoned, assured, and surprisingly organic. The album closes with “Nightfall,” revealing Mileece’s breath and soothing voice, reminding us of her guiding human influence on Formations’ otherwise arbitrary systems.

Laraaji, who of course we originally know from Eno-aligned collaborations, joins English musician Merz and multi-instrumentalist Shahzad Ismaily for, in Merz’s words, “a type of music that could co-exist in sanctified temples and in city urbanism.” Dreams of Sleep and Wakes of Sound might veer close to that lofty description, blending unmapped sounds of a heavenly nature with the hustle-and-bustle of layered treatments and aural tension. Each of the three participants isn’t present on every track (Laraaji contributes to just a few) but the sound and techniques remain unified. Just when you think you’ve got a handle on a song, shimmering washes of instrumentation build and surround what was once a simple structure. Titles like “That’s Your Blue Home” hint at introspective inspirations, apropos of how the music often suddenly expands as if soundtracking an epiphany.

It was an honor to see the legend that is Roedelius a couple of years ago at Orlando’s wonderful Timucua White House. The music was experimental and quiet, not at all jarring, and serenely transmitted the artist’s feelings in a tumultuous world. After Roedelius’s reassuring performance we left the venue calm and satisfied. Lunz 3, his latest collaboration with the equally prolific Tim Story, is no different. It’s pretty, but not so pretty as to hide a subtle agitation underneath. But that’s what makes this music so comforting — the impression that there’s room for beauty and contemplation in spite of the burning hum that encircles us.

#WorkTones: Bana Haffar, Nicola Cruz, Ditherfix

· Leave a Comment

Rather than whistling while I work, I listen to weird music. Cleverly (?) labeled worktones, here are a few office selections from the past couple of days.

The venerable Touch label has issued a live set from Asheville synthesist Bana Haffar. Described as a Saudi-born ‘life-long expatriate’, Haffar has worked to distance herself from the musical discipline learned as a classical violinist and electric bassist, presently opting for the unrestrained dialogue of modular electronics. This release captures the 33-minute “Genera” as performed at AB Salon in Brussels. Haffar’s modular wizardry is on full display, accompanied by gentle field recordings to shift the listener’s imagined landscape. The result is adventurous, though also hypnotic and warm. I’m pleasantly lost in this.

Nicola Cruz’s Siku takes its name from an Andean panpipe and, if I’m not mistaken, you’re hearing it played throughout this promising album. These tracks are an example of ‘fourth world music‘1And ambiguous ‘fourth world’ music is my favorite kind of music, it should be noted. that not only blurs worldly genres but mixes these styles with contemporary electronics. Not completely liminal, the cuts retain an ethnicity and the electronic elements — mostly focused on the rhythms — often hover away from the primary focus. But the experiment is rewarding and there are moments when the collision is of its own category. The final track, “Esu Enia,” is the most intriguing, pivoting back-and-forth from traditional-sounding tuned percussion to dark, synthesized responses. Siku could have pushed further, but I anticipate Cruz will continue to explore these fascinating combinations.

Ditherfix (or [ d i t h e r f i x ]) is creating horror-movie drone ambiance mainly on iOS. That means he’s on an iPad — or maybe even an iPhone — conjuring these cinematic noises in settings that include “in the woods, on a train, at the kitchen table, a corner chair, or at times operating from an ironing board in the bedroom.” I love the idea of this mobility and it’s exciting to see iOS gain traction as a production tool. Just as the walkman changed how we listen to music, an untethered yet sonically capable portable electronic studio undoubtedly produces music directly influenced by the surrounding environment. In the case of the seven thunders, that must have been an incredibly spooky ironing board. (h/t Daniel Fuzztone)