RIYL: grimy VHS terror, dead malls at dusk, analog soundtrack horror
Mr. Malone is back with portents of dark times indeed: some people live sunny lives of vapid clarity and hopeful posi vibes and then there is the rest of us. This album is for the latter person, so say we all. Sometimes sounding like the middle section of Pink Floyd’s Atom Heart Mother Suite, other times like ecstatic devotional hymnals to a faded saint of total destruction, this cassette will certainly crush all hope of a new day into rubble. Death House 4 is the dusty, terribly fraught, and horrified soundtrack to the dark future that is rapidly approaching us. God help us all.
RIYL: coy liaisons with fine Japanese electronic instruments, tomorrow’s sad-funk
Can machines develop sadness? Regret? Does the keyboard grazing of one’s fingertips over the years accumulate feelings and longings in these electronic tools, both so invisible to us in our waking human lives? Are we responsible for the emotional care and feeding of these electronic servants? What was staring back at you from that illuminated screen you spent so many hours, weeks, and months in front of, a screen you always assumed beheld a one-way conversation? You were correct in one sense but wholly blind to the greater mystery, unaware it was you who was watched. A sad attraction, forever trapped behind glass, a perpetually unrequited love and you never knew.
RIYL: The Album Leaf, early Sebadoh, cassette 4-tracking during the dead hours of a psychotropic day
Meeting in art school and eventually living in fabled Tarantula House in the high hills of Pittsburgh, the duo cut their teeth during countless sessions of cheap beer, cough syrup-induced drum and six-string sonic seances. With that spirit serving as fodder, this sound became a mode of transport with a dedication to keep the space-time portal open at all times. Field Hymns is proud to introduce the Snakes of Pennsylvania. Please enjoy the ride.
Snakes of Pennsylvania is Thad Kellstadt and Kevin Molloy
RIYL: synthsual soundtracks, work daydreams of grandeur and danger, VHS appetizers
Yves Malone is back with a 28 minute, four song EP for our International Cassette Store Day release of 2016. Dialing down the abject horror of previous programs, he nonetheless manages to find that balance between idle dread and victorious exultation, an idiosyncratic current that binds his catalog together. These tracks, abandoned from a nebulous video game scoring project, have been reworked and refined into something resembling a krautrock jam on the eve of a massive tumultuous downturn…
RIYL: cassette loops, contemplation of the atrification of logic in seemingly intelligent systems, weed
Garde Forestier is vaguely sinister 80’s hold music a lunatic French guru turned into mediation loops. Or perhaps it’s a Casio workstation gone on the fritz but becoming sentient, all whilst dealing with the breakdown of its physical body and the unfairness of bothering with such a burden at such a momentous time. Maybe Garde Forestier really is a front for a Danish trio of nuns who built up these tracks in the brief moments free from the rigors of monastic life. Perhaps we are witnessing the first stirring of a post-vaporwave work unbound and unmoored from its stable of lockstep clone acolytes. Perhaps.
RIYL: video game soundtracks from weather.com, audio taffy, Swedish fish + QVC
We’ve had a mad bee up our bonnets for this feller since hearing Kane Pour’s previous release & are stoked as hell to drop this smooth acid candy into the world. Like Yellow Magic Orchestra scoring a new installment of The Legend of Zelda set in coastal yet swanky Hyrule, Vision Crayon is a study of bubblegum tension and confetti release and a big fuck-yeah to being alive.
RIYL: Six Organs of Admittance, Flying Saucer Attack, the sweet kiss of familial termites on your cerebral cortex pretending to behave
The welcome balm of Urthsla, a sweet musical utterance whispered to a young love, a gentle squall of devotional drone: and suddenly we are helpless in the pull, the tug, the sweet embrace of a memory of a spectacular summer day and escaping the heat by crouching by, and then laying under, a giant oak for respite while the day-heavy birds perfunctorily go about their business above, seemingly just as little motivated as we are lying side by side. As the long day lessens and shadows grow taller around our makeshift altar and the first hints of the sea’s breath comes pushing along, ushered up the small valley by cooling wind we unwind, stretch and now limber and fresh, head back toward the west to everything we still have left to do and everyone we miss. And it was good.
Artem Bezukladnikov lives in Berlin, Germany
Limited edition of 100 pro-dubbed & imprinted chrome cassettes w/ digital download