Stadiums & Shrines

 

The stable wasn’t meant to last. It was a temporary resting place for a herd that didn’t truly exist—one they’d see racing across the prairie only when the sun blinded just right.

Over the last six months Matthew Sage has shared with us Lux‘s many formations and collapses—additions, subtractions, re–framings, etc—from demos to what finally settles below. Normally both purists when it comes to hearing unfinished work, both Nathaniel and I wouldn’t have necessarily signed up to be inside Matt’s process; this just happened out of friendship and trust, and we’re quite thankful it did. Much of the exchange took place while we were arriving at Dreams and the overall next shape of S&S, and as a result, Lux Collapsing became the soundtrack to our own process, and is now uniquely embedded in our infrastructure. Personally, this is the closest we’ve ever been to a single recording.

There’s something almost perpetually undone about Lux Collapsing—as if destined never to fully crystallize, but rather circulate like dust in a room, exposed to motion, coating the surfaces of the subconscious. A sense of curious unease is present throughout; it drags us off the edge of “Prairie Belle”, stalks the fable of “Sweeping Glances”, and climbs the minor strings of delicate closer “Two Exteriors: Daylight”. In Matt’s words, the album is a “40 minute, eight track meditation on light in the west, decay and forgetting…a post-classical ambient piece, focused on the profound nature of light and timelessness.” At its core Lux borrows from old vinyl cuts, which have been stretched and subdued to distant memories. Suspended above them, and intertwined, cello, flute, and guitar work from Sage and a cast of Fort Collins friends complete the movements. It’s a massive if modest collection—one might say just right, depending on the time and space of any given day in flux.

Stream the release in its entirety for the first time here today, and be sure to support Patient Sounds’ Kickstarter so this LP can get pressed (and if CMJ bound, it swirls live October 17th).

 

 

The mind of Ghibli is a fascinating place. At the moment, zen house music and the written Mandarin language are making total sense together in here. Access is available above, and a bit of clarity as to what’s going on, from the man himself, is below:

“I’m taking Mandarin classes and Mandarin’s text is purely pictographic. There are something like 30 to 50 thousand characters in Mandarin but to be considered ‘literate’ you only need an understanding of about 3,000 characters. Those 30-50 thousand characters are divided into 189 subsets called Radicals that feature base themes or super simple designs, which is how mandarin dictionaries are organized (by radical). So from within this absolute sea of characters, there are only 5-10% of which one actually needs. Because inside that 5-10%, one character can easily encompass 4 or 10 different synonyms. Not to mention there are 5-10 characters themselves that sort of mean the same thing anyway. So you could say one word that could mean 10 things at once. Or alternately, 10 words that mean 50 things in succession. And I just think this is the coolest.

So I’ve taken a thorough bred selection of slower tracks that have been passively floating around my mind and anchored them into this mix. From the millions of house tracks that exist, I figure that people could get by on these eleven tracks for a while. I’ve chosen this character 缓, which means slow, leisurely, relaxed, etc.”

Thanks, Tom Mike!

 

And in a final act, the MT-1 Combat Drone would paddle out to sea, knowing the second its steel met the salt, it would sink directly to the bottom, far away from a battle it could no longer bare. Self-destruct, engaged:

Jared Fairfield | How Wretched I Am

Maine-based electronic artist Jared Fairfield has a split with fellow vox-processor Afraid called EMF, available now at bandcamp.

 

Their search for the garden ended with a realization that they were already there—its stone walls green, its pavilion hidden, its aura inverted…

Over the past few months we’ve spent a good deal of time inside the latest LP from our dear friend Jamison. Its artwork (above) was provided by Nathaniel in collaboration with photographer Landon Speers, and its spectral sound (one that, in a way, bridges the gap between his work as Teen Daze and Two Bicycles) has accented all kinds of mindsets—the sparkling dew of “Garden 2” fitting nicely against an early morning optimism. The Inner Mansions sees release November 6th on Lefse Records. And his dream can be heard now.