(Orange Milk Records, 2017)
For some of the wrong reasons, if not all, everyone should have this tape…
At first, I wasn’t sure or not if maybe this particular copy of the cassette was somehow damaged, defective. Maybe someone left it next to a bass amp that blew a fuse during a serious solar windstorm? Maybe I, myself, was experiencing some stochastic fritzing from some other wayward, breeeeeezy star, influencing my cochlea?
Currently reading Oliver Sacks’s Musicophilia was either not helping, or, liek, rrrreallllly helping. Is this what AMUSIA “sounds” like; the brain unable to process multiple frequencies at once, frantically processing whatever bits it can, all the while negating the rest of the entire fucking world’s sonic happenings? Like what we human beings systematically, solipsistically do with our own flawed nervous systems & ever-decaying wills, e’rysingleday?
Please (painstakingly) afford me a convoluted stumblethrough:
Take a nervous husky for a walk next to a playground filled with shrieking little shits whilst a cadre of fire trucks come a-wailing by. Now, imagine that your audial perceptors can only process the most exciting tonal sets of frequencies for, maybe, 1/4th to 1/16th of a second at a time before automatically switching (at random intervals within said parameters) to the next, Markedly-Differing, exciting set available. And repeat this for what must feel like a fucking eternity, were that the neurological state of your brain.
Everyone should have this tape, for some of,
if not all, the wrong reasons.
Would this have replaced Skinny Puppy’s jamz at Guantanamo Bay? What would you do, were you non-consensually subject to this set, nay, this onslought(!) of un/in-humanly-plottable, scalpel sharp, reverb-free shrapnel-esque sound-poses, only sub-consciously hinting at some bigger picture that you could not possibly piece together (under such conditions). You must confess that you couldn’t possibly make a coherent/viable confession, too, right? Right? This tape is painful for me to sit through, but I am so appreciative to have it on hand,
if not all,
of the wrong reasons.
From now on, I’ll never hear “Left-Field Electronica” (especially from the Orange Milk catalogue) the same way, ever again. It’s as if this Nonlinear Record were a tertiary skeleton key/aperitif that readies my mind to access what might otherwise feel like something I might not be “in the mood for” yet, or simply not ready to commit to, given that the OM aesthetic is, while, generally, a Damn Good Time, also a SERIOUS FOCAL WORKOUT.
By comparison, now, mind-boggling artists from over these last two years (El Murki and Hans Appelqvist, for example, and now, the return of Euglossine!), once logically enigmatic and bewildering, are now more readily digestible, showing far more familiar flavors/tones (though their arrangements/rhythms still prove innovating and complex), allowing me to feel more competent in my sympathetic, spinal waggings-along.
Cz hey, it feels good to swagger under such intoxicating signals, no, when you’ve an inkling of what tonal blend be forthcoming? Perhaps I’m just drunk with the power of exponentially increased access to musical meaning; but connection to what? Am I more attuned to the cosmic winds? Have I found a truer compass rose to better calibrate myself to the multiverse-chorus-verse, or is this just the algorithm to a more advancing time(less) signature?
Orange Milk Records has been cracking minds and blowing heads for a good long while, now, and this here noggin-tweaker ought be sought by all, if for no wronger reason than “the tape”, right?
–Jacob An Kittenplan