by David Wilikofsky
Today, Unifactor is dropping a new batch of three tapes. We’re big fans of the label (we profiled them just last week) and as per usual they haven’t missed with any of these releases. The hallmark of the label is unpredictability; you never quite know what to expect when you pick up a Unifactor tape, and this batch certainly follows in that tradition. But at the same time these tapes feel like kindred spirits; despite obvious aesthetic differences, each embraces chaos. Whether it’s the gentle decay of Nate Scheible’s tape loops or the visceral, intense noise of Amanda R. Howland, they all feel vital and relevant in their own way during this crazy time. Dig in below.
Nate Scheible’s Prions and Scrapie is a series of ambient tape loops that could easily soundtrack Kentucky Dark Zero or games of a similar ilk; there’s a mysterious, shimmering beauty to the compositions that create a dreamlike atmosphere. Sounds emerge and decay, organically blossoming from one another. Snippets of conversation cut through on a few tracks but offer more questions than answers. One is a woman repeating “I don’t think that’s funny” over and over again, each time angrier and more emphatic. Another is a conversation between two women; it is implied that something is wrong with one of them (perhaps an illness), but the situation is never explained. Both provide a sinister edge to the otherwise tranquil tracks they inhabit. At once soothing and disquieting, this is one I expect to revisit many times in the coming months.
Whisker is Ben Billington and Andrew Scott Young, and Straight from the Bottle is the duo’s debut album. Recorded live at Chicago’s Empty Bottle in January 2020, the tape consists of two sprawling improvisations for bass and synthesizer. This might not seem like a natural combo, but it works. There are moments where the instruments meld together seamlessly, the bass echoing the squawks of the synthesizer, only to burst apart moments later. Both tracks move forward in fits and starts, switching from harmony to frenetic discord at a moment’s notice. The music never settles into a particular groove, morphing and constantly keeping the listener on their toes.
I’ve saved the most abrasive for last with Amanda R. Howland’s Meeting Dr. Ancient. Howland takes an intimate approach to harsh noise, centering everything around her voice. Shards of static cut through her words, making it impossible to understand them. In the end, it hardly matters what she is saying. This is a panic attack made aural; there’s a sense of claustrophobia throughout, as if Howland is a feral animal desperately trying to escape a cage. Each breath she takes is sharp and pained, and each muttered or shouted word a cry for help. It’s a punishing listen but one that leaves a lasting impression.