Mark Vernon ‘An Annotated Phonography Of Chance’ 12” (Misanthropic Agenda)

Last year saw the release by Misanthropic Agenda of a deluxe double LP reissue of Joe Colley’s intense ‘Psychic Stress Soundtracks’, an exploration of unpredictable sound with strong references to film both in the broader sensory media and the cellulose nitrate itself. Now visiting ‘An Annotated Phonography Of Chance’ by Scottish experimentalist Mark Vernon which preceded the Colley release by a matter of months, I hear an even greater interest in cinema – reflected in the foley-like closeness of its environmental sounds, a deeper soundtrack sensibility to grander gestures, and the literal unspooling of reels which ticks through the first side to further fragment its diverse audio components, also returning to close the LP as the final frames fall to the floor.

Across the first side individual tracks quickly get lost amid the ebb and flow of Mark’s work, minutiae of acoustic home recordings – water,  chatter, travel, birds – melting into horrifyingly elongated brass instrument vibrations, chilling ambient soundscapes, choral and piano samples, and a haze of obscure manipulations and peripheral sonic crumbs which further fragment any attempt to embrace a defining sensibility from ‘An Annotated Phonography Of Chance’. It’s an intentional march of distraction, a sequence of left-hand turns where elements are refined within their allocated time and realised with care in production, timing and nuance – but which bewilder within the larger whole as the provoked visualisations scatter across the colour wheel.

Of particular note are the visually provocative moments which delve into almost Goblin-like throb and threat during what I think is “The Consensus Is To Delete” – albeit without the heavy instrumentation – and the intertwined ghostly invocations which unravel from backwards-treated stretches of damp ambience thereafter (“Nossos Ossos”), bold strokes of sound with a familiarly visual edge to it then reduced back to a darker – but equally evocative – scene.

Even if the inputs remain diffuse, the second side of the LP builds a more focused and singular mood, combining windswept electronics, barking dogs, twitching noise vibrations, slow tonal manipulations and sickly wet vivisection into an extended play of shadowy slow-motion dark ambient.  But even after the barrage of sound components which cross the first side, the second still pulls some surprises across its twenty minutes. The creaks and dying haunted house effect reel of “Megalithic Circuit” are especially profound, chewed cassette playback turned into pensive ambient dread as buzzing flies, behind-the-door gesture and resonant low-end surround the listener in a worryingly visceral experience; closer “Simmer Dim”’s focus on vocal utterances – singing, speech and whistling – also shines as a refined close to such a wayward LP.

Misanthropic Agenda has always looked outside noise/industrial confines for its releases, but the last few years have cast that net wider, and Mark Vernon is one of the catches.  The label seems intent on finding unique voices within the broader experimental music lexicon, and ‘An Annotated Phonography of Chance’ gives significant space to one of those. I grew up mining musical interests across genres and sub-genres while still firmly rooted in music’s darker expressions. Vernon’s keenness for experimentation but acknowledgement of mood reflect both those familiarities, even if his expression is a march from mine.

https://misanthropicagenda.bandcamp.com/album/an-annotated-phonography-of-chance

Death Dedication & Necroecclesia ‘Experiment To Destruct’ CDR (Head Tapes)

‘Experiment to Destruct’ looks, feels and sounds like a release I haven’t picked up in a long time: two acts of raw harsh noise ripped to a CDR with a pasted-on label, and with a foldover cover in a thin plastic sleeve: the type of release I received a glut of in the ‘00s, at the peak of the use of CDR as a cheap and efficient choice of underground sound dissemination – but one which has neared extinction in the face of the resurrection of cassette as the chosen base media. The disc is welcomingly crude and unapologetically abrasive, both performances seemingly one-take expressions of late night urge and frustration, a small bank of effects hammered and thrashed into submission.

Immediately noticeable about the Death Dedication tracks is their emphasis on low-end murk, a heavy bass frequency dousing proceedings at the expense of a more balanced production, I suspect the result also of the initial recordings being on analogue tape (given the thin layer of tape hiss mist which hangs above the piece), and giving both the project’s tracks an immediately sinister shadow under which to work.

Both opener “Twisted Limbs Washed” and second track “Do You Still Party” cover a fair expanse of sound, from sore blistered bubbles to soaked throes of distortion, and incorporating humming synth flights, boiling semi-ambient baths, and kitchen cupboard clatter. “Twisted Limbs Washed” is especially prone to being in constant transit, demure lines quickly running into thickly laid slabs, and with a mixture of monophonic and polyphonic tranches both when in full-on distortion mode and when exploring less torching tones. “Do You Still Party” is the more stable of the two, opting overwhelmingly for familiarly cascading bass-heavy distortions, but still falling into a backwater of idling softer noise a few minutes in, and slowing to glimpse a surprising skeleton of junk metal clamour at about the ten minute mark – which then permeates the track as its distortions return to again submerge the source material in viscous tarry noise.

Necroecclesia fires up a single track with an instantly brighter mid-range responsiveness and hint of high-end crispness added to its low-end furnacing, the piece largely immobile in its focus on a tearing central frequency and slowly entering booming bass, only a few small squeaks of higher register worming their way through a central middle register grind while a haunting repetitive throbbing sits at the back of the piece. The final third or so of “Evil Sleep” tears some holes in the previously enveloping approach, bringing some of the low frequencies out and prompting a haunting higher refrain to faintly echo around, further grain and gristle emerging from the thinner texture which has been sandpapered away over the preceding 15 minutes. It’s not the type of noise I visit unless prompted to, but “Evil Sleep” is clear in its vision, intent in its execution, and faultless for achieving its want.

The strangely-titled “Do You Still Party” is the subversive winner for me, less disjunct than “Twisted Limbs Washed” but without the wall-ish stasis which cramps Necroecclesia, and best expressing the solemnity of Death Dedication within its chosen swampish noise output while bringing some movement and uncertainty to the composition. The entirety of 'Experiment To Destruct' is deserving of several listens without necessarily being a release which will protrude from my collection in months’ time; like much of the ’00s product it emulates ‘Experiment To Destruct’ is a turgidly enjoyable listen should I chance upon it, but also unlikely to trigger a reminiscence and want to listen when in the drawer and out of sight. Short props to the suitably obscure collage art, which wraps the disc in layers of the unknown and adds a hallucinatory layer of distraction to the sound within.

Compest ‘Leitern Und Pfade’ C-54 & Internal Fusion ‘Those Who Are Straight’ CDR (Oxidation)

Oxidation started as an online reissue archive of endangered industrial artefacts previously found on  CDR, but has expanded to itself release physical media drawing on label head Marc Benner’s broad experimental tastes. Compest and Internal Fusion are artists who both come from a backstory of earlier material – but that history is at the fringes of the noise/experimental underground which Oxidation more frequently taps, putting these two releases perhaps at the fringe of the label’s work.
Compest is the work of Martin Steinebach, the cross-contaminated result of previously more distinct projects across orchestral and ritual/tribal synthetic atmospheres, rhythmic industrial, and ambient abstraction. The title translates as ‘Ladders And Paths’, a hint at the inter-connections which bind the cassette even as it draws from across Martin’s stylistic interests.

‘Leitern Und Pfade’ in part builds on synthesizer atmospherics which trace an industrial lineage to N. or Hive Mind in their chill. “Leiter” and “Sprossen” utilise slow-moving low synth drones dusted with higher semi-melodics: the former track folds in an unexpected snare pattern and sparse found refuse percussion; the latter adding orchestral overlays in its second half, as its repetitious drift starts to spark a flickering tremble to the piece. Lengthy “Pfad”, and “Oben” after it, maintain a similar link but with a serious kosmische bent and without drawing in disparate sound elements – although “Oben” bolsters its triumphant melodic refrain with some subtle synth voices. These evenly spread performances are more dramatic astral aspirations which would be entirely at home cast across a Carl Sagan documentary.

The remaining tracks further the kosmische leanings while leaving any underground genre sympathies behind.  “Aufstieg” is a meandering synthesizer solo, while “Umweg” and “Abseits” are both constructed pieces, utilising bass guitar, synth-derived sitar, faux-orchestral swells and rhythmic elements which wear their influences proudly, and are unashamedly soundtrack-y in their evocation. Noisier elements are present but difficult to find: the tracks add a fine distorted dust to portions but which is easily lost, and not really the point – ‘Leitern Und Pfade’ has no intentions of finding a home in the post-industrial lexicon.

French project Internal Fusion’s CDR contains only a single track but the piece plays out in movements. Its opening torrent of voice fragments is tightly constructed, with digital stutters, dead-end loops and shifting sound placement setting an intentionally disorienting introduction which the disc then plays on through its duration. The other sonic elements are just as far-reaching, familiarly intangible ambient electronics finding space as do a rush of nostalgic synth melodicism, intense sustained tones, and swarms of harder noise expansion which give the piece a needed harder edge.

Rhythmic constructs are a constant presence – at first intentionally fractured and incomplete, taken by ambient drift or buried in uproar – but over the middle third of the disc ‘Those Who Are Straight’ settles comfortably into a fulsome lilting gait and then winds back into an uneasy off-kilter percussion made from metal and other found sound, as layers of voice again build around the piece.

The blatant beat of the middle, and the piece’s penchant for slipping into rhythm even when not overt (both the beginning and end find uncertain rhythmic components slip into place around the intentionally disjointed vocal manipulations), will keep many at bay. But with some forgiveness ‘Those Who Are Straight’ exhibits a healthy experimentalism – particularly in its extended voice manipulation and at times quite scrappy noise elements – which may attract those usually drawn to more underground pursuits.

Oxidation’s packaging – attaching the disc to a square of moss (for those able to receive plant matter in the mail) may do likewise, imbuing the disc with a curiosity which matches its more unconventional moments. The Compest cassette is similarly supposed to be beeded in a layer of dirt, although international purchasers can order either release without the organic matter, attaching their own localised mire to avoid attracting the ire of border biosecurity guards. Oxidation’s physical releases have overwhelmingly entered the world as bulky, heavy, and/or messy editions which can make overseas ordering difficult – but Mark has been careful to offer modified versions which can find their way internationally.

https://oxidation.bandcamp.com/album/leitern-und-pfade

https://oxidation.bandcamp.com/album/those-who-are-straight