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cd-r, edition of 50
Wet Amen (31:51)
12.4.2010 @ Studio La-Bas
Pla, Nosfe, Tommi, Bon Jarno, Re-clip
Prices (including postage):
4 € in Finland and EU
6 $ elsewhere
to "Order" page
One long cosmic jam; a maze of sound, out of which careful listener will find several different ways; a sonic path to enlightement, perhaps.
"The future will be full of joy, bright and safe."
Yksi pitkä, kosminen jami; äänen labyrintti, josta tarkkaavainen kuuntelija löytää useita reittejä ulos; äänen polku valaistumiseen, kai.
"Tulevaisuus on iloa täynnä, kirkas ja turvattu."
"Ever since I was a teenager, I’ve always been trying to find the way to best answer the question “What kind of music do you listen to?” At the age of 13, our replies start with “anything but country”, and then “Seattle-based alternative rock and 70s Miles Davis kind of stuff”, before finally landing on more appreciable (ha!) claims such as “late 60s free jazz, outsider folk, and contemporary indie pop.” Then, after yet another night of staying up late, listening to the latest package from Eclipse, Squidco, or Mimaroglu, getting a little tired of yet another Evan Parker solo album/ad hoc collaboration, and noting the brilliance of such artists as Burning Star Core, Volcano The Bear, or Richard Youngs, one begins to think, “what I’m really looking for is a distinct, recognizable voice (what Brian Marley – I thiiiink – referred to as a “ur-drone”) that runs through all the work of an artist, no matter what form the work in question might be taking. When a person listens to a shitload of music across the largest possible variety of genres, unless one has a real, devoted interest in the minutiae of a given style, you gotta find some way to separate the things that demand your attention, and the things that seem too boringly familiar or otherwise unremarkable.
The era of music production that encapsulates the ability to produce pro-level releases for a relatively minimal cost has left us with two circumstances. Anyone is able to create as much of as whatever they like with the greatest ease every known to the independent artist. This is a good thing, based on the positive manifestations of this reality. By this logic, artists like Derek Bailey, Jandek, Matt Valentine, R. Stevie Moore, James Ferraro, and Conrad Schnitzler wouldn’t have optimized their impact as they did without the option (or, in some cases, setting the example) of self-publishing and/or artist-run labels and imprints. Obviously a good thing. But, and I’m sure this is an old and tired argument, but the sheer volume of dreck let loose by this system is quite uncontrollable. I would reckon that the positives of this scenario outweigh the negatives, but there is a lot of really middling/unmemorable/derivative stuff out there, and it gets lavishly released and is circulating among the good stuff. It can be tough to find this “ur-drone” in one or two of an artist’s releases, but, more often than not, it’s not a mystery when something has that kind of singular magic.
Sadly, the album ‘Wet Amen’, by Finnish group Grey Park, falls into that unmentionable grey zone of people-with-gear activity. I love dearly the promise of noise/experimental/improvised music, that one or a group can pick up instruments and start making stuff right away, because it’s a grand and important notion. And I feel odd being the judge of whether or not these activities are considered to be ‘good’ or ‘bad’. But I guess I feel that given this freedom and openness of form, one should be self-critical, and truly committed to the act of doing something original. I dunno, I’ll pass." (Jonathan Ronler / Foxy Digitalis)