*Edition of 100* ‘I call the place I am writing now the bay of broken things. In the February storms, spume wraiths climb the hundred-foot cliff to fight and fall like bitter rain in the moonlight upon the cabin roof. The earth shakes from the drum roll of the surf. I lie awake and watch through the window beyond my bed. There is no ticking in my brain; this is the elemental night of chaos. This is the sea chewing its million-year way into the heart of the continent. The caves beneath resound with thunder. Again those warring wraiths shoot high over the house. Impelled as though I were a part of all those leaping ghosts, I dress in the dark and come forth. With my back against the door, like an ancient necromancer, I hurl my mind into the white spray and try to summon back, among those leaping forms, the faces and features of the dead I know.
The shapes rise endlessly, but they pass inland before the wind, indifferent to my mortal voice.’ Loren Eiseley One Night’s Dying from The Night Country This tape, a map of sorts, resituates recordings of five disparate islands into an archipelago built up from layers of sound fragments. A study in accretion and the sedimentary parallels of geological formations and sound design; islands imagined as repositories for environmental memory, above and below. Field recordings collected from Fårö, Norratäljeviken, Stockholm & Stora Karlsö. 2012-2015. Processed via cassette and Nagra 4.2. Edited and mixed in Manhattan, New York City 2016. Limited edition of 100 on cassette with transparent shell and printed j-card. Side B is labelled as above, but contains no recorded audio.
‘I call the place I am writing now the bay of broken things. In the February storms, spume wraiths climb the hundred-foot cliff to fight and fall like bitter rain in the moonlight upon the cabin roof. The earth shakes from the drum roll of the surf. I lie awake and watch through the window beyond my bed. There is no ticking in my brain; this is the elemental night of chaos. This is the sea chewing its million-year way into the heart of the continent. The caves beneath resound with thunder. Again those warring wraiths shoot high over the house. Impelled as though I were a part of all those leaping ghosts, I dress in the dark and come forth. With my back against the door, like an ancient necromancer, I hurl my mind into the white spray and try to summon back, among those leaping forms, the faces and features of the dead I know. The shapes rise endlessly, but they pass inland before the wind, indifferent to my mortal voice.’ Loren Eiseley One Night’s Dying from The Night Country This tape, a map of sorts, resituates recordings of five disparate islands into an archipelago built up from layers of sound fragments. A study in accretion and the sedimentary parallels of geological formations and sound design; islands imagined as repositories for environmental memory, above and below. Field recordings collected from Fårö, Norratäljeviken, Stockholm & Stora Karlsö. 2012-2015. Processed via cassette and Nagra 4.2. Edited and mixed in Manhattan, New York City 2016. Limited edition of 100 on cassette with transparent shell and printed j-card. Side B is labelled as above, but contains no recorded audio.