Thomas Dimuzio‘s love of the Buchla synhtesiser is well known and here, on the precursor to Sutro Transmissions, we find his initial forays into that universe, that limitless dimension that means every release is a new journey or a new series of travels into the unknown.
A distant shimmer-like haze on a forgotten landscape opens the first side with “Large Cresting Microwaves”. Dust filters across buried ruins with bursts of static and waves of subsonics shaking this tranquil landscape, sending seismic shudders through empty places. A brief disturbance; a glitch in time as if something is coming from underneath, immense but shapeless, formless but neither benign nor malign.
Sounds morph into one another like shapeshifters, sometimes giving up an esoteric clue to show their intention. Some creatures converge after the first upheaval with the discovery of a new and very distinct place. The overall vibe is very different to Losing Circles, his recent album with Marcia Bassett. Although these pieces are substantially older, they feel as though something has ben obliterated; a moment in time demolished and left as so much debris. Flip the LP and things take a different turn, with a disembodied voice and wind-driven debris in an empty road. This is more here and now, with an avalanche of discarded dreams pulling the hoardings loose and making the streets dangerous. Disembodied warnings are out of sight from this vantage point, hidden but impotent, helpless in this rain-swept cacophony. The gurgling of drains leads you down, and you can’t help but be swept away by the directed barrage that passes like an out of control underground carriage, with you left stunned watching the receding red light and waiting for it to vanish.The ghost of humanity haunts the hallways here, a mind drifting, trying to keep up with what is all around; but certain portions are off limits, with a warning on attempting entry. What is in these hidden recesses, these simmering cauldrons of activity? Your subconscious won’t allow access, but there is a kind of peace in giving up the fight and going with the flow, allowing the sounds to recede into a gentle background murmur. It makes it easier to think your own thoughts; but does it really? There is such a sense of control here, and the lead is shorter but more flexible, allowing quicker turns and changes of whim.
It is a mystery how these sounds are produced, and that magic, like the production of the vinyl record itself, is some kind of alchemy. You take air and thoughts and these much-loved but esoteric machines, turn some dials and somehow whole universes form or different psyches manifest themselves, emerging whether dragged or eased into our welcoming light.Although otherworldly, the sounds on LCM have a human memory and we only need to open our ears and allow Mr Dimuzio, our guide, to show us the way.
-Mr Olivetti-
