Mattias Gustafsson – Frusen Musik (Careful Catalog)
First, it should be noted that Careful Catalog is issuing some of the most impressive physical editions in the current ‘no-audience underground’. Oversized packaging, fetching letterpressed sleeves, multiple frame-worthy inserts: they certainly don’t cut any corners. The artwork and design provides a compelling sensory experience all its own before even taking in the sounds of each release. But man those sounds! Those mysterious, indescribable sounds, like the creaky room atmospherics found on this latest by Swedish artist Mattias Gustafsson, are pretty damn absorbing as well. Gustafsson has been active for over a decade and a half, recording mostly under the moniker Altar of Flies, which if memory serves correctly was closely aligned in sound and spirit to what was happening in the Midwest noise scene of that period (Wolf Eyes, American Tapes, et al.). Gustafsson’s more recent output under his given name displays a less abrasive approach. His album Nattmusik and its companion Frånvarande, combine electronics, field recordings, and piano to capture a sublime ambience on par with works like Black To Comm’s excellent Alphabet 1968. With Frusen Musik, the sound sources are much more varied and more obscured. Sure, this could be described as noise music, but it’s noise music in the vein of Yeast Culture and Small Cruel Party where mic placements and acoustic source materials were/are more integral than maximum volume. The liners state “Eight compositions for imaginary rooms. Press play and close your eyes. Walk in and listen piece by piece or as a whole.” What you’ll hear when you press play is Gustafsson stitching together shortwave radio static, sputtering low-level electronics, fumbling room sound clatter, random cymbal swells, malfunctioning tape players and much more. That might sound completely random and puzzling, but I assure you that Frusen Musik shows Gustafsson to be a skilled sound artist right up there with your Lambkins and Lescalleets of the world.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MZ8A4x7K6vk

V/A – Nobody Knows This Is Somewhere (C/Site Recordings)
As someone who lives in Nowheresville, Midwest, I can immediately relate to the sentiments in the title of this compilation, a nice spoof on Neil Young & Crazy Horse’s debut. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that I feel a certain kinship with what this New Haven group of artists is up to. This past summer, two waves of “The Crew” passed through town for live performances, and later tapping into their various activities and projects over Modello-greased convo felt like an energizing jolt to get to work and make shit happen. Nobody Knows This Is Somewhere serves as a solid scene report for those that have closely followed the happenings of the New Haven underground, and it also works as a nice introduction to its four flagship acts (that comprise the heretofore mentioned Crew). Headroom and Mountain Movers both do what they do best and take their half LP side to stretch out into their sprawling psych jam mode with chiming guitars weaving around the steadfast Omonte/Menze rhythmic stride, gradually building towards dueling, feedback-laced euphoria. It’s motorik meets Crazy Horse: the right mixture of precision and swagger. Stefan Christensen, the guiding hand & pocketbook behind C/Site Recordings, delivers a 10-minute track that somehow manages to seamlessly bring together sections of crude tape manipulation, guitar feedback, sputtering Dead C-styled anti-rock, and hammered minimalist piano tones. Like with his live sets, this longform approach shows Christensen moving beyond some of the recognizable NZ touchstones in his work and onward to something uniquely his own. Alexander (aka David Shapiro) ditches his customary acoustic fingerpicking style and goes straight for the jugular on his epic Untitled guitar & organ drone piece. It’s closer  to his work in the duo Nagual (now trio called Center), though it is perhaps a bit more layered and restrained than the previous material I’ve heard from them. Taken as a whole, Nobody Knows This Is Somewhere shows a vibrant small scene of talented and hard-working friends creating inspired/inspiring music together, and it’s a fine example of the importance, now more than ever, of community building and engagement at a local and personal level. Consider yourself in the know: New Haven is Somewhere!

Kate Carr – City of Bridges (Longform Editions)
While preparing to do a feature on Longform Editions for the FFF podcast, I found myself regularly returning to Kate Carr’s lengthy City of Bridges piece. In my opinion, Carr is one of the most interesting and adept field recordists currently working, issuing top-shelf material on Helen Scarsdale Agency, Glistening Examples, her own Flaming Pines label and several others. The recordings for this piece were captured during Carr’s time spent in the Canadian city of Saskatoon, apparently referred to as the “city of bridges”, and she gathered together a collection of everyday sounds of the structures and spaces that make-up the city. Perhaps what I’m so drawn to here is that there’s a familiarity with the sounds that trigger my own memories of or connections to specific places: the th-thwack of cars passing over “The Viaduct” in my hometown, the distant calls of geese flying over Spring Lake Park, the crosswalk signal prompting me to “wait” in downtown Mankato, the squeals of seagulls along the shores of Lake Superior, and the background chatter and music at the Coffee Hag. But these aren’t just unadorned field recordings pieced together by Carr; she adds extra non-instrumental accompaniment to enhance and obscure the source material into a more dream-like composition. As she puts it, “I like to make works which at least for me make me think about inhabiting a world which is somehow a little bit different, richer, somehow more intense and strange and beautiful, and which for me I build for myself through these practices of composing and listening.” City of Bridges is indeed a strange and beautiful world worth entering into on multiple occasions.