Bootists gather in Japan and around the world, called up into the mountains by the irresistible vibration of distant toms. The ground shakes with the sound. The landscape shifts, revealing the tectonic potential of underground forces.

“We Reach for Crowded Aboveness” is a record that pulls at the seams of space and time. In the expanding gaps: doom, a crushing existential weight.

Music accretes like sediment on a floodplain. Layers are disturbed, reconstituted, remixed in the cyclical tumult of the flood. New sounds emerge from old, surprising vegetation, useful weeds. But the flood, always again the flood, is also a time of loss / loss of time. A carving away. An act of

Whatever Gorge may be, it must contain its own stratigraphies, its own forms, its own analyses, separate from those of what we call art. Gorge requires, encompasses, constitutes its own theory—Gorge Theory—of which every track is an exegesis.

I'm gonna do the thing where I share some music recommendations, but first I wanted to mention that the workers at Bandcamp are unionizing. Most of the album links I share here are from Bandcamp, because buying records on Bandcamp supports the artists who make them. The workers at Bandcamp

By the time I hear about sextrance, it's worldwide. The whole underground is twitching and writhing through the bit crush haze at speeds in excess of 200 bpm, and I'm just caught in the wave. The story of how I got here goes something like this. Gorge bootist Indus Bonze

When it's cold out, everything looks flammable. Dry. Sometimes the hardest thing to remember is the absence of pain. It's just there or it isn't. Like being warm. Like being alive. Memory can be a path to a future, and a path can be difficult, overgrown, lost in its season.

[image alt text: Screenshot from NES game Bayou Billy. Gordon is holding a knife to Annabelle's throat. He has a speech bubble that says "there will be many obstacles to overcome."] I haven't been writing much. I moved last month, and I feel like I still haven't had time to

At 7:30 on a Monday morning, I’m grinding Ethiopian coffee and blasting Slab from Tokyo. My senses are drawn across mountains 6,000 miles apart and even further from my kitchen, just east of the Alleghenies. If my neighbors appreciate the sound, they don’t mention it. I’

AREASCATTERBRAIN [https://mosaictheanimated.bandcamp.com/album/areascatterbrain] is a slow boil about to get fast, a moment of change suspended, repeated, looping, spiraling. AREASCATTERBRAIN is a record is a mood is a place I keep coming back to. I want to be clear about something that this album is clear

Sometimes all I can think is a vast silence, punctuated by brief intervals of noise. A drum, sitting in an otherwise empty room somewhere, is never struck. I am interested in the texture of its potential. I am interested in the brief intervals of noise, which exist in that texture.

200x: Setting up to record a local punk show, I get into an argument with a friend about mic placement.  I’ve been reading a translation of Herman von Helmoltz’s On The Sensations of Tone as a Physiological Basis for the Theory of Music [https://archive.org/details/onsensationston00elligoog/

I'm working on writing a longer-than-usual piece. In the meantime, here are some sounds I've been listening to.

Ponche Kascabel’s debut EP [https://ponchekascabel.bandcamp.com/album/caxixi] is a tight basket-weave of rhythm and texture. Distorted synths and dreamy guitars flow between intricate layers of percussion. Pulsing waves of bass carry static grit through electro-organic rhythmicon feedback circuits. Familiar sounds take unfamiliar shapes as they collide,

I am staring at a blank document. I am listening to Gorge Bricolage by Hanali [https://thirdtypetapes.bandcamp.com/album/ttt36-hanali-gorge-bricolage]. I am taking a deep breath. I am remembering a nosebleed in Loveland, Colorado that lasted for two days—maybe it was the dry air or the altitude or

Some time last year, I overheard Hualun’s Blue Fireworks (Short Version) [https://hualun.bandcamp.com/album/an-elephant-sitting-still-an-elephant-sitting-stillsoundtrack] and my breath caught in my chest. I had only begun to understand what it means to be sick in a way that never ends, the way your own body can become

Sometimes you put on a record and it opens a door. Sometimes you open a door and there’s a world behind it. Sometimes you step into a new world and when you look back at the world you came from everything is different, transformed by the subtle vibrations of

I was lucky to find a couple old Emergency Records 12” singles in a dollar bin last week, among them Shannon’s 1985 dance floor hit Do You Wanna Get Away (Long Version). The A-side is a pretty straightforward jam about using your work computer to look at porn [https: