A collabo of sorts between Lee Noble, Patrick Singleton, Samuel Steelman, Geoffrey Sexton and Frank Baugh, this little disc represents yet another go of it from the impressively singular Kimberly Dawn ranks. Theoretically intended as a live soundtrack improvisation, the sounds are wisely left to stand alone, the only hint of visual inspiration coming from the still on the front, which, conveniently, manages to say about as little as a film still could while still providing an idea of the feel that these guys were going for. Like the still, the sounds here are pretty bleak and grinding, though in the consistent and hushed way that the highway traffic is rather than outward grating material.
Considering the number of players present, this little project is about as spare as it gets, incorporating some electronic hum, percussive clatter and distant vocal weirdness into some kind of moist ritual that occurs inside of factory piping deep in the night. Super basement oriented, you can almost hear the wash of light on the participants' faces as the screen projects some seemingly desolate stance. Hollow material that just kind of fumbles along, drifting with rudderless with ease down some precipitous river. Nice to hear dudes laying down any cathartic inkling they may have in favor of dark and done, fried and fearful. Towards the end it heats up a tad, going into some blurred black vortex that splashes about a ways, but this is just the end of the road--you've made it. The whole preliminary feels like it would be just as happy to let you wade through its grime on repeat till the bitter end. And yet, despite its invisible tunnel of crud, it all comes out with more of a stoned out, no-zone than a dank dirge. Nice and softened at the edges, just a big nest of black twine for you to curl up in. Another righteous one.
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