This document of glowing, clattering correspondence between Istanbul-based composer Ipek Gorgun and Toronto's David Psutka (aka Egyptrixx, appearing here as Ceramic TL) speaks to a mutual fascination with exploring sound as material and phenomenon, tailored to those who like their experimental drone music cluttered and conceptual.
Called "an unrealistic examination of material value as defined by its relative scarcity" in a press release, Perfect Lung is an intense collection of sound art with intoxicating gravitational pull, compelling listeners to create their own fictions while simultaneously calling into question the absurdity of object worship.
Presenting freshly minted moments on revolving Chladni pedestals, the pair highlight the fleeting nature of being with lucid, 360-degree perspective, methodically manipulating melodic repetitions into shadows of their former selves.
This sense of temporality and physical material figure prominently in the track listing, and the songs themselves are appropriately more abbreviated than anything from Psutka's last offering as Ceramic TL — too brief to allow complete environmental immersion and yet wholly captivating all the same. The verbose "We Lack the Clout the Decision Isn't Ours to Make, There Was No Crusade After All" is the exception, offering a blessed extended view to the dystopian dumpsterscape, neon chords emerging from a white hot distortion blast, only to give way to relentless minimalist percussion sounds; then repeat.
For the most part, it all simmers in the raw grace of plastic ocean-logged tubular percussion drifting through a fog of electronic groans and cascading distortion, as if orchestrated by the ghosts of so many wasted Keurig machines.
It's the sound of things being found, being lost, trickling into the ether, composition born and undone by duration, like life and death washing over you like an industrial strength bath bomb.
(Halocline Trance)Called "an unrealistic examination of material value as defined by its relative scarcity" in a press release, Perfect Lung is an intense collection of sound art with intoxicating gravitational pull, compelling listeners to create their own fictions while simultaneously calling into question the absurdity of object worship.
Presenting freshly minted moments on revolving Chladni pedestals, the pair highlight the fleeting nature of being with lucid, 360-degree perspective, methodically manipulating melodic repetitions into shadows of their former selves.
This sense of temporality and physical material figure prominently in the track listing, and the songs themselves are appropriately more abbreviated than anything from Psutka's last offering as Ceramic TL — too brief to allow complete environmental immersion and yet wholly captivating all the same. The verbose "We Lack the Clout the Decision Isn't Ours to Make, There Was No Crusade After All" is the exception, offering a blessed extended view to the dystopian dumpsterscape, neon chords emerging from a white hot distortion blast, only to give way to relentless minimalist percussion sounds; then repeat.
For the most part, it all simmers in the raw grace of plastic ocean-logged tubular percussion drifting through a fog of electronic groans and cascading distortion, as if orchestrated by the ghosts of so many wasted Keurig machines.
It's the sound of things being found, being lost, trickling into the ether, composition born and undone by duration, like life and death washing over you like an industrial strength bath bomb.