I made this track (and some others) during the first crest of the pandemic. I was seeking to reflect (and escape from) the relentless dread, the sense of time lost, the uncertainty of it all. To bathe myself in noises of my own making.
I eventually passed my noise lines over to my bud, Til Willis, a real deal songwriter and musician — one of my very favs, in fact, someone who I get a lot inspiration from, even if we are cut from from different modes of sound — and he transformed, utterly transformed what I’d sent him.
The results of this can be found here:
tilwillis.bandcamp.com/album/small-guarantees
But this nearly half-hour noise piece — gratuitous, overlong, serrated, what have you — has stuck with me, in it’s original form.
Released October 2, 2020.
“A slightly buzzy, uncut gem of a piece, this works very well turned up loud in the headphones. It rings and fuzzes in your ears and contains the same sort of energy you might experience in a bustling town square at the exact moment the church bell rings and for some unknown reason a grotesque malfunction in the fabric of time causes that split second to be stretched out into half an hour.
Everything is a funfair hall of mirrors except this isn’t fun at all and all the mirrors are smashed. By the end of things you’ve learnt to cope with the terror and are feeling some sort of detached bliss.” — SIX IN THE HEAD