Genre: Experimental / Noise

Side A : Brian Osborne
01 For The Johnson Family
02 Fivefold Rotational Summary
03 40 Doors

Side B : Marc Zajack
01 Caught In The Dog's Cough
02 Smoked Haze

Here we have a split vinyl offering from two artists who run two different labels from two cities in close proximity on the east coast with a single agenda : liberating avant-noise from its marginalized confines and bringing it into your living room. It's raw DIY noise experimentation that commands your attention and reminds you that such music is not meant to be commodified. Or is it? Kill the free spirit and you kill the impetus I say. I'm not opposed to the noise scene per se but I would hate to see it go in a single direction at the expense of underground populism like so many previous efforts, only to be resurrected in a couple of decades (re:no wave, industrial, etc.) But hey, we're all just trying to make a buck right? Besides, the noise underground is over thirty years old now so who can stop it right? Right?

Brooklyn's Brian Osborne ushers in his contact-mic damaged noise like Mike Ratledge kick-starting his organ circa 1970. Any similarities to the Canterbury school end there, as do any similarities to Osborne's previous effort as a solo percussionist released back in 2003. A fuzzy drone helps to segue into an intermittent scrape-cum-rhythm that may very well be your building's super who said 'fuck it' when it came to fixing that leak in the basement and decided instead to have a little fun at the expense of your good nights sleep. What can you do, complain? The bastard knows where you live and still has a key to your crib after all. I especially like the collapsing cinder-blocks at the end but it's not developed enough. The second track is a bout of tinnitus-inducing peals that come without warning only to disappear...and then return. It's like there's a tiny bell with a tiny microphone inside that's attached to your tiny eardrum that is vibrating like there's no tomorrow. No, we're definitely not talking about Arvo Part's concept of tintinnabulation here, this is far more physical and decidedly lo-fi. Diversions come in the form of electrical shorts, frequency-modulated sweeps and rude bursts of echo. Stuttering choirs of cartoon bobble-heads antagonize the greedy pigfuckers that ruin our lives while they creep slowly across the Verrazano to feast on roast beast. Scratch the surface and alas there is no blood, no humanity toward mankind itself. A carcass devoid of the creative impulse has lived not. OK, so '40 Doors' throbs with some low-end lovin' loopy drone action that succumbs to a metallic shredding. It's a cumulative affair achieved via a sophisticated delay-pedal until the damning rhythms of amplitude modulation take hold. That's it? I was just getting started. I hope there are some out-takes from this session.

Philadelphia noisenik Marc Zajack should need no introduction, but I'll give him one anyway. He runs Deep Fried Tapes; records as Antler Piss; plays with Sharks With Wings, Blastocyst, etc. Yeah, you get it : the cat's one busy bad-ass. 'Caught In The Dog's Cough' is phlegmy enough with it's tightly wound spring stuck in a freak's ass kinda way. Gorgeous vibrational discipline one this one with the coils kept in check by a steady hand. The occasional interruptions are welcome and tastefully positioned within the flow, not unlike the TG classic slow-mo 'Hamburger Lady.' When the feedback rolls in, it's tightly controlled and worked into the action in an appropriate manner like a meticulously fashioned necktie. It's mesmerizing, but there's too much action in the nothingness to call it minimalist. In the final section, as the generative pulse gains momentum, agitation is glorified yet kept in check where others would have shot their noisewad all over your Wolf Eyes t-shirt. Yes, I like this track very much. The second number is a doobie-worthy excursion that kicks off in a thick low-end cloud that clicks and clatters teasingly near silence for several minutes. Subterranean rumbles threaten the passivity of pedestrian activities and the banality of everyday life, until slumber consumes you and alpha-state ushers in the horrifying dreams that synchronize your breathing patterns with the vibrations of freight trains thirty-three miles away. The tension is palpable, constantly threatening to erupt like a dormant volcano or some social unrest in a notoriously shitty part of town. But it never does, and the tension remains taut and unresolved. This is excellent dramatic electronic music straight from the underground.

As far as I can tell, there's no digital interference with either of these sides. Vinyl doesn't lie like those other media formats...you can feel this stuff. You should pick this up before it becomes a noise-snob collector's item; there are only 100 copies. You should pick this up because it supercedes most of what the noise-snobs are listening to anyway. Love thy neighbor.