Ejecta’s “Silver” is beyond recognition in this amorphous hymn, yet flecks of it still rise and shimmer and whisper around. Droning out a perfectly good pop song is an underrated art. Patrick McDermott, who creates as North Americans and co-runs Driftless Recordings, has an uncanny handle on it—he’s taken CFCF to similar heights.
Somber and hopeful, “Live in Grace” finds Bill Gillim airing out vivid lines of forgiveness in his barest, most straightforward vocal performance to date. Not to be taken lightly, Believer is out November 4th.
Ashan: ‘The Gentle Way’, the sound of the universe’s vibration… for Sean Conrad, “a recognition that I am a part of everything and that I am living out of love”, he told Noah Klein recently on No Fear of Pop. The mind behind a myriad of releases, both as an artist and curator to cassette label Inner Islands, Sean displays a clear interest in finding peace through music. Today he gives us Grounding:
“Collecting and connecting the songs in this mix was inspired by the sensation I get sometimes of feeling my body, mind, and spirit all in one place, consciously. It happens not too often. But when it does I feel a certain stillness and presence that is mostly ineffable. These songs begin to touch on that feeling for me. And it is with great joy that I am sharing them.”
Popol Vuh – Hoere, Der Du Wagst
Satoshi Ashikawa – Still Park Ensemble
Colleen – Sun Against My Eyes
Miyata Kohachiro – Hon Shirabe
Six Organs of Admittance – When You Finally Return
Silver Antlers – Pine
Tim Hecker – Black Refraction
His is latest effort, Breathknow, is out now through Constellation Tatsu.
Sweet Nelita emerges, entering the harbor, the docks trembling beneath the domes of stationary clouds. A foreign feature upon Lisbon’s bay, the figurine, the stoic tiger, the papery pearl aloft the Atlantic.
Great shakes continue to oscillate the hills. Dust and debris, seismic circles surround Rossio Square. A city, quaking, radiant, since its first stone was laid.
Pedestrians look on from their trodden and tremulous promenade, nearly slipping into the sea.
Behind Nelita, amidst the lightly tossing tidal blue, a glassy wake trails aft, muted, as dormant as the tiger’s treasure.
Through the arched opening, dazzling from the grasps of the unwavering masts, this strange and sober payload emanates: a new stillness, imported.