The buzz of washing machines, a ruffling dusty sound, revolving and looping; the first piece on this digital release from Aaron Dilloway leaks weirdness and indistinct intent. Living chains dangling like tentacles from a ceiling lost in darkness, clanking hooks suspended in grey gloom, the occasional echo acting as a joyless dub chasm-drop. There is an accumulation of detail and scraping hissing ambience that makes this as haunted and desiccated as any tape-concrete music I’ve ever heard; there is a subtle compositional sophistication at work on ‘Medicine Stunts’, an intriguing sequencing of sounds that captures the attention until the end, and beyond. A musical evocation of the woods around Twin Peaks, untrustworthy owls hoot emptily with forlorn exhaustion. Elsewhere, gurgling lungs hock rusty barrels into cement mixers; apathetic ventilators wheeze and respire in roofless hospitals; cloth sacks full of taxidermied song birds squirm, their undead tweeting muffled and obscured. A ghostly whistle acts as a spine throughout, a thread winding through this dark and fascinating album.
Originally released in a tape edition of 100 on the Lal Lal Lal label, this digital version is available from Hanson Records, a rotting forest-shack housing many a diseased and nightmarish transmission.