An Album Requiring Ears.
Luminarium by Tape.
Every man at one time or another, on a desert island, with one week’s rations left and utilizing his final hours to secure his own survival must take a coal-burnt stick to a cave wall and stipple his Top Ten Records of All Time. It then occurs to that man: “But wait! I have a Top Ten Records of All Time for records-records and a Top Ten Records of All Time for strictly ambient sans words records!”
In order to confuse you as much as possible let me put it this-a-way: my record on the latter list that is latter to the latter record of the first record on the list (Eluvium’s Talk Amongst The Trees) is Tape’s 2008 slam dunk (probably containing field recordings of slam dunks) release Luminarium. Tape are a Swedish Trio, Sweden an attractive region whether your citing examples for your current research paper about socialized medicine or insert Julian Assange joke here.
Right, right, so what does it sound like? Luminarium is a development bath beckoning image. Everything onboard this recording feels analog, delicately thudding then being scraped away like a steely broth of snow being dealt an umbrella, then shoveled away. These 10 pieces titter, faint, and coo.
The mark of truly great ambient works is that their default repetition can stand alone—see cheese—then become compromised (in this case, minimalized) through layering. Remember Ethan Hawke after his skeletal post-Uma phase, filled out a little, then periodically awkward, but now in award-worthy shit like Before Midnight but also B+ horror, um, The Purge, I guess (full circle anorexia
Instead, free association: Raw harbor. Turgid aperture. Stan Brakhage.
There are guitars too, and melodic din, a should-be linocut album cover, without which this record might not receive my:
Courtesies,
The Brothers Rebel.
The Brothers Rebel.
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