Sound designer and programmer, Yousuke Fuyama, is a front runner in the academic world but fully embedded in the avant garde audio/visual scene. An updated version of his Sonar performance generated by the mutual exchange of music and sound data. An unexpectedly accessible work of noisy, extra-dimensional, abstract sound. A stunning blend of rogue, 4D glitch.
Limited to 125 copies: red c50 cassette shells with black imprinted ink // full colour J-cards with photography by Kate Kell // plastic norelco cases with shrinkwrapping // artwork & layout by Amanda Boutourline and D.S. Ciarán
Breaking Day is the second full-length album from Cleared, the Chicago-based duo of Steven Hess and Michael Vallera. While their self-titled debut album (Immune 014, Jan 2011) found the duo exploring themes of stasis and texture, Breaking Day represents a huge development in the scope and overall style of the project. Where previous material had been slowly assembled from dozens of individual recordings and experiments, this new collection of songs was born from the raw documentation of Clearedâ€™s live performance in the studio. Elements of noise, drone, and psychedelia are filtered through a dark, unifying lens that ranges from relentless rhythmic assault to monolithic tonal sculpture. Dueling rhythms of drums and sampled percussion, walls of undulating soundscapes, and hypnotic guitar are deployed with heightened intensity and force. If Clearedâ€™s first record presented a frozen, gray-washed realm of ambient sound, Breaking Day represents its inverse: A blackened subterranean space of alien movement and activity; a premonition of an assault from the unknown.
Bloodred c60 + c40 tapes, handstamped / inked in black Handcut, dyed + scored custom chipboard O-cards / insert Handstamped red 8.5″ by 8.5″ insert with black lettering Handnumbered & stamped in roman numerals Screenprinted artwork by D.S. Ciarán
There is a stench here so old that it rids the body of any uncertainty. It is a comfortable rapture. The stench comes not from distant swamps, putrescent and green in their small wakes, or the mounds of bone matter and meat made dust underfoot. This waft of hidden and yet all-too demanding treasures lifts itself steadily from the bated, beating wings of the Bird, on its eternal voyage somewhere far past home.