inadvertent by jim haynes
at one point when pawing through the various oddities on the shelves in my studio, alexis perez asked and then answered a necessary if wholly rhetorical question: "so why do you have this jar of teeth?" the answer: "for later!" when it came to the massive pile of broken glass panes that i moved in and out of at least six different places, the immediacy of "later" became apparent as i was moving out a studio in 2022. here, i had an entirely empty concrete room and about sixty pounds of glass that served no presentation purpose any more. what else is one to do except set up the recording gear and start the pulverization?
that situation is the only precise piece of historical information i can share about the making of 'inadvertent.' it's not my intention to cryptic, but it is true that i don't want always want to know the origin of a sound when i start hammering it into shape. i do appreciate a sound to which i cannot reverse engineer its inception. at that point, it no longer references a specific machine or technique, but becomes a open cipher for metaphor and meaning. now, that chunk of glass noise was certainly memorable, though anyone who has recorded shattered glass will know: the end results require some muscular processing. i can say that the remaining source material to 'inadvertent' was culled from the endless archive of studio recordings for varispeed motors, shortwave radio, tactile noise, queasy drones, industrial corrosion, and smoldering electronics. 'inadvertent' begins with that explosion of flame and glass fragments, and progresses through a vaguely palindromic twin set of compositions. as for the rest, was that the radio? was that a particular synth patch? was that harmonic generated by the motors? was it just a pedal being weird? was it all of the above? all of that, for later. - jim haynes, may 2024
Tracklist
| 1. | variant, number thirteen | 20:00 |
| 2. | variant, number seventeen | 20:00 |
Credits
mastered by grant richardson
cassette released by no rent records
published by touch music / fairwood music uk ltd.
License
All rights reserved.
post-industrial research, surrealist collage, refined minimalism, caustic electro-acoustics, sublimated dream-pop, obfuscated field recordings, recombinant noise, existential vacancy, and then some.
no demos accepted. full demo policy explained here: helenscarsdale.com/about.htm