Theres certain types of music which does nothing but evoke images in the minds eye; be it of a graveyard, a sprawling valley vista, or a bustling downtown ghetto. William Bower’s Soundtracks #2 had me thinking time and time again of an opium den. This may sound morbid, but it isn’t for the depressive sense. The sheer lo-fi grind of several of the pieces made me think of the sheer carelessness involved with getting high, a place where all else fades away and you can stare at a wall for hours without realising what you’re doing.
Beginning with the almost doom sounding grind of “Ene”, much if not all of the release wallows in the same lo-fi waters, as if it were recorded with some shitty mic directly onto the tape it comes on. Slowly rolling, barely discernible chords billow and lurch against one another, giant monoliths of noise tumble back and forth. “Partono All” begins much the same way, almost as if it’s cut from the same fabric as the track before it. Much of the sound here revels in its own obscurity, and never once attempts to let you in. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it means you need to actually LISTEN if you want to get inside. “Dacies Theiery” employes more of the same subtle panning and overdriven warehouse sized stacks of noise….. this release deserves to be played loud. On “Ix xe”, a piano makes a sombre appearance, playing a drawn out single note melody across an expanse of open space. Closer “The Man Who Fell From Grace With the Sea” is pre-empted by a curious vocal sample at the end of “Ix xeâ┠which seems to sum up the whole release perfectly; if you listen to this closely enough, it feels like you’re on the inside of it, and everything around you is moving.
Alot of what I’ve described might sound like I’m ready to shoot myself, but curiously, there isn’t much about this edition that i could describe as “depressing”. Instead, I think I’d describe it as curious, mainly because that’s how it made me feel. Released on cassette, a format which revels in sound of this type, Bowers has set free a collection of incredibly lo-fi closet soundtracks. Clocking in at just over 25 minutes, it’s just long enough to be palatable. Just don’t consider playing it on a sunny afternoon. You’ll be confused as shit.
Nick Giles
