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Brainwashed
Knowing that there could be voices around us all the
time that are simply very difficult to hear is a bit
of an unsettling notion. A small essay provided on this
release and written by Konstantin Raudive outlines how
to record what he calls "voice-phenomenon."
The essay details proper tape speeds and proper procedure
for recording the voices of ghosts and it also goes
on to classify three different kinds of voices that
seem to be most numerous in his work. The third type
of voice, the one that even a trained ear finds difficulty
hearing and understanding, is the the kind that populates
Andrew Liles' reconstruction of the excellent Bass Communion
record, Ghosts on Magnetic Tape. Liles continues to
make me wonder at his disposition, I'm always torn between
supposing he's a very haunted, talented individual and
the image of him as a medium between this world and
that of monsters, demons, and phantoms. His music has
always been on the creepier side of the extended tone
and at times he can be outright disturbing in his presentation.
His reconstruction of Bass Communion's album incorporates
pseudo voices into a music whose soul was already suffused
with essence of the unknown. Each of the five tracks
is the owner of a unique voice; the reconstruction of
"Ghosts on Magnetic Tape II" begins with the
sound of a choir of angels echoing inside the belly
of sunken cathedral — bells ringing, organ choking,
and water crushing through each second. It doesn't take
long before a whisper pinches in through the wall of
sound, running its fingers over my ears, and passing
like a wind through the smallest opening in a window.
It's a shocking moment because it's so convincing: I'm
led to believe this must be a genuine recording. Whether
or not it's actually the voice of an individual who
no longer touches the physical plain is questionable.
Perhaps it's the soul of an individual through sound
and perhaps it is a trick played on the self through
the imagination. I prefer to believe in the former.
At times I'm tricked into believing this record is safe;
there is no trepidation in me and the almost liquid
rolling of hums and sparks seem welcoming. Liles is
not to be trusted because he will open up a chasm of
fear so quickly that any apparent tranquility that follows
will seem immediately imposing and capable of psychological
scrambling. This album was limited to 1,000 copies,
200 of which came signed, numbered, and contained a
special photograph. The music inside is far more rare
than the record itself, however. I'm beginning to have
trouble deciding whether this is music or a method for
the living to come to know the dead. It feels almost
religous at times and elsewhere it is tense and disturbing.
It just doesn't feel like it belongs on the earth at
times. - Lucas Schleicher
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