Dedicated to the LagerhoUSE in Freiburg, sorely missed.
To music in strange isolated rooms; imagining it breaking out, travelling far beyond.
To the puzzle of putting it together; like those chess games played out over years at a time, each of us walking off and musing on the next move, the next mix.
To writing songs as if on an excel spreadsheet… waveforms chopped up beyond recognition, noises routed through different boxes, different calculations, looking for the most unlikely and exciting formula. Some say you can’t possibly make exciting music like this. Bollocks to ‘em. Bashing away at the drums can be just as dull.
And here’s to bashing away at drums. Drums that play the sound of a detuned radio. Drums that warp the formants of another sound, way over on the other side of the song. Drums that you simply can’t control, where you can’t work out how to hit them, and you’ll only ever do it once before it’s captured forever. Here’s to the only once.
To rooms in basements and behind sliding bookcases, rooms with sand in the floor and the ceiling, living rooms, rooms next to railway lines and haulage depots, tiny rooms beneath central London owned by multinational mega-corps, huge rooms presided over by a mad German with a million ideas, rooms in Italian restaurants that just happen to have a nice piano, rooms that have just the right reverberant qualities for that one song and you simply have to record the vocals there, rooms you’ve measured wall to wall in immensely pernickety fashion to see precisely where the soundwaves will slam into the surfaces.
To in-jokes, built up between you, to epic levels, over countless editing sessions, because otherwise you’d go strk rving mntl.
To the spaces in between, some longer than others, to coming back to it and hearing it with fresh ears, a cup of coffee, and a doughnut.
The new Angel Tech album will be available sometime in the next 20 years.
(This is a sister post to Pre: show over at the Sleepdogs website)