Crunchy, howling, mutated and sonically perverse these grit and grime passages from the Halifaxian sunburnt botanical bible shamelessly twist grooves on melting iron oxide for future generations to ponder, amaze and ultimately become possessed.
Favorite track: Eroded Visage.
Put your ear to the soil and listen deeply and you'll hear some of the deep techno this album has to offer. Crunchy and dug up melodies and beats and just darn good music. Fitting album title!
Favorite track: Eroded Visage.
Assembled by hand, one copy at a time, in the White Pillar Workshop! A white 5" recordable disc, duplicated and printed via an Imation D20, held securely inside a white cardboard jacket with a 4x4" full-color sticker (printed in Georgia by David Tagg) on the front cover, and a custom text sticker on the back. Contained inside a cast polypropylene clear sleeve with a flap, to keep your new artifact dust and moisture-free.
Includes unlimited streaming of My Earths
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
My Earths is a Coppice Halifax recording that has been referred to and rumored for about six years now, with an edit of the track "Eroded Visage" appearing on the Vaporized Forest Index 10th anniversary CH compilation, out of time and context. It was scheduled for release at two different labels outside of Milieu Music, and neither plan materialized. Finally, it now arrives as a weathered artifact from the past, which still manages to feel modern and unique among the current crop of Halifaxian farming, and the implied apocalyptic tone present beneath much of the material, titles and visuals weighs heavily on me as I type this, shuttered away in my basement, fearful of the future.
Still, My Earths conveys a detached kind of voyeurism and escapist fantasy, populated by the perspective of an interloper who passed through our world on their way to somewhere further out - the impressions they would have with such an experience, experiencing humanity from behind a window, all our histories and romances evaporated by some unknown event, reduced to cracked recordings and burnt books, stone ruins swallowed up by overgrown environments, everything reclaimed and recycled - the entropy of cosmic compost. All of these images are things I've perhaps come to terms with as I've aged as an artist, the idea that your sentiment betrays the longevity and agelessness that you want creative work to have, and when you go back to that acre where it all looked so picturesque and inspiring a decade ago, your memory's erosion becomes clear, the lie of nostalgia becomes sour and you must accept past moments as the buried objects that they are.
And so that is what I attempt to illustrate here: An imperialistic claim of ownership on my remote and unreachable memorials of myself and my view of the world, an acceptance of the things I've tried to say, the ways I've tried to say them, being muddled and worn down by what comes after, and how it feels as if these decisions came not from me, but from another life lived in another place entirely, not just a difference in time but also in dimension. They are all still here, trailing echoes of footprints treading through a Carolinian dirt road. My Earths, seen from the vantage point of superposition, where they all exist and they've all moved on and they will all spin on their looped axes until comets and collisions smooth them down to a pale marble, a bone-white heart, a grain of sand...pulled into the ebbing tide of the void and washed up on the edge of another shore, on another island, in another sea.
The four recordings offered here are filled with representations of these things...the white noise of the sea, the grit and grain of tape detritus, the beating heart of kick drum and bass pulse, the wordless and melancholic whale song transfigured into subconscious opera. Four paintings of the Halifaxian pathos, dashed upon a white pillar that was once a part of another great work, now drifting in an empty landscape, left for someone else to discover.
released June 4, 2020
W/P by Brian Grainger. Recorded at Botany Bay, Winter 2014 using analog drumcomputer, Akai S2800 sampler using vinyl recordings of whale song, analog FX processors and multitrack tape machines. Mastered by The Analog Botanist. Photograph by Stanley R. Mickelson, October 30th 1961. Treated and processed by Eric Adrian Lee. This is Milieu Music number MMD053. (c) + (p) Milieu Music 2020. All nights preserved. www.milieu-music.com / www.analogbotany.com
As always, I am in utter awe at the vastness of our musical universe, comprised of beautiful stars for our ever-listening ears. Let the gorgeous waves of this incredible album wash over you, perhaps taking you to another realm, out of space & time. One of the most pleasurable experiences I have had in a long while. GoryLori