George.

The Salt Seal Isthmus

An Ode to dear musicians,

http://thesaltsealisthmus.com/

Continue reading

WY

Barack Obama’s presidency was in the hopeless honeymoon of its second term. Signing individually in the 2013 to Sturm and Klang Records, Wehtam Yelthgiek brought doob-hop into its maturity alongside fellow heads of the economic depression; in Texas, in Hildesheim, in Bristol and in Nice. SKR’s public translation accumulates and WY starts playing the guitar more, around the hay-day of ‘Islamic State’; his friend Drew (JH York) was playing more drums. Together at one of those bungalow gigs I saw them play hysterically hard-futurist numbers, the microphone got thrown about, screaming got like dancing: everyone screaming together, consuming the melody and the electric guitar. There was this whiskey that he made, two people fell in love, I saw them last month, the whiskey brewery has shut shop, chapter closed, tenancy ended.

Around a year later and WY has published a song using colombian internet, you can hear the Sturm and Klang sub-culture as much as it reminds me of those gigs. The artist coins the concept of loss like an improvisation, puts it in your hand and it’s worth infinity, the beat is similarly exchangeable. A lot of other post-2008 sub-cultures have been forgotten despite their religious-like followings, others are on terminal impending break, none of those are that way negative, some are visibly blooming into the oblivious outskirts of Economy as we speak -(https://boilerroom.tv/session/london-overmono/)… ..From Colombia, WY’s song sounds a beginning of time like the walls of Jericho. Today, the song materialises a bicultural like a love-story between two separate life stories.  LOST THE B does it with more dreaming venom than that whiskey tasted like, to and fro: in reality it’s all an antidote.

Drew the indie singer

For two years, Drew JH York lived in a bungalow in the suburbs of a town in Essex, there he and his friend experimented with parties of people, temporarily disillusioned, playing different versions of indie music. What Drew plays himself is borne by time, belief and motivation. If it’s a genre, it’s memorable, because that’s partly how the best songs get themselves made. His question “How Do I Know?” gets more unsettling the more you get to know him backwards through the music. If I’m not used to being unsettled by 2000s chaos, then something is wrong, Drew reminds me how there’s nothing wrong. “Nothing + something” must be the most beautiful mantra hummed to itself by some poor dumbed object of paranoia, and for that reason I am thankful that Drew is now subject – to being back home, singing about that, uploading it, doing it again at some point. For if you don’t feel at home in the trillion debt regression, then something is wrong, God knows how indie uploads survive; Drew reminds me how they do even if he doesn’t know how he knows that.

keep your voice out of my head because

I think I’ll have to edit this post in a few days, or maybe tomorrow. Because

February 14th 2016

Love!

“FUTURE BASS MUSIC”

The unyielding journey where the internet and the music click: I Guess This Must Be Love. The singing sliced into the heart of the thing moulds around your in inside and about your headache like Moodymann‘s Why Do U Feel, similarly melancholily mashed up and appreciable: just the required level of decay in the important bits: headache bounced out of your head like words out of time like feelings out of thoughts: sense the fresh and you’ll be good, you can trust me on this one.

If this song is the “New track up…” as advertised to me via Clift N Anthony (designed the artwork) via the original advertiser, Julian Edwards (who is probably the artist bastiengoat), then we take it that the “track” is you, me, immanently, and we are the ones who are now finding ourselves, “up”.

If this song’s supposed to vicariously symbolise us now then I can recommend this is the time to prick your ears up like you’ve never pricked your ears up before to everything that resonates with your gravity to the good times… The good times where your friends were calling it trap music
and you’re there on the relevant event page and the artist is summarised, typed up as “FUTURE BASS MUSIC”

you’re reminded disconnectedly of both conjuncts in a kind of falling feeling; must be the way the rhythm has no rhythm and you’re thinking like some philosopher with his hand pointing into the imagined person’s face and you’re gawping the expression “that’s true!”, you’re too busy gawping to say it out loud

And you find yourself between words and time, between thoughts and feelings, between headache and head? I Guess This Must Be Love …is where it goes click. It’s definitely to some extent because of the artwork and the keyboard that normalises an image of naked world that seems to mean something to everyone the more they grow tired of the music they listen to.

yo