There is static-inflected IDM like Lafererra’s “Sixteen,” a pleasant beginning
which doesn’t seek to scare you off with a nuclear blast of white noise ala
Merzbow; Manic Amyche’s “An Uplifting Thought” strangles a hip-hop beat and
buries it out back with an old television which is filled with the ghosts of old
Saturday morning cartoons. Birds in the Meadow contribute a single minute of
noise, a rustling crackling piece which might have been micro-tonal at one time,
but is now just a rising caterwaul of sonic detritus. (And a minute is about all
one really needs before the white noise headache kicks in, so thank you very much
for being concise.)
Harm Stryker’s “Red Sun” is of the dark ambient variety, a slow crackle and hum
of spooky machinery (and the scattering of metallic percussion which upsets the
track about 3/4 of the way through is a very nice touch), while Monolith Zero’s
“Untitled” piece is so subtle as to be nearly invisible. Stephen Smith’s “For I”
is a bubbling fount of light particles over a slow wash of synthesizer tones, the
gradually unfolding melody which paints the sky as backdrop to a localized shower
of warm rain. Never Presence Forever’s “Collapsing Intrinsic Pulse” does exactly
that: its solemn tonal structure fading and corrupting under a skein of shivering
noise (though its final coda is a resurrection of the core ambience).
“Bloc-Notes” by Metal skews a harpsichord melody with a snap-pop drum beat and a
whoosh of space noise, bringing a digital giddiness into the 18th century salon.
“These Transmissions” by Vilam Priest explores the busy shortwave frequencies,
filling a drifting miasma of noise with the hollow voices of forgotten
transmissions and the neglected echo of prog-rock beats. To Kill a Petty
Bourgeoisie offers unfinished track called “Zin” which drop-cuts between sinister
movements of solid noise, childlike bell tree melodies, and aching sine waves
pushed through an overthruster filter. One can only imagine how many more layers
of sound To Kill a Petty Bourgeoisie wants to add. Mi’s “Made for Speakers”
threatens to break them, spewing bursts of white noise and fractured sound like
an abrupt edit of a M2 track from the Parsec era before dissolving
into a long loop that fades into nothingness. Well, almost, there’s the
requisite spasm of circuit sparking at the very end just to remind you that noise
is, after all, a child of chaos and uncertainty.
There is a section of Virginia which is very noise-friendly, and the collective
musicians of the (804) area code demonstrate that a wide variety and a wealth of
individual perspectives is a vital part of a vibrant musical community.
Hopefully they are all operating as one large support network and, in a few
years, we’ll see an influx of their work as full-length releases. Get a head
start and find your favorites now. In fact, get this as a warm up for when you
visit Richmond for the second 804noise Fest on Sunday, October 3rd.
804 Noise is out now on 804 Noise.
