Lace Bows – “Glitter Pulse” [excerpt]
I feel like I have so many things to tell you. How I was beside myself with grief when my blog was taken down by the nefarious weirdos at WordPress, how I didn’t know what to do with my latenight schedule, how I started shooting hard drugs and reading “Gun Tote” magazine.
I’d tell you that, but none of the above happened. To put it bluntly, I found other things to do with my time. So why start Gumshoe Grove up all over again? Because there’s so much left for us to explore together, hand in hand at the gates of the icy hell we call life in the U.S. of A.
Lace Bows represent yet another reason to believe that life in the underground is good; too good, even. They do more for me than a commercially viable unit ever could, and chances are few outside of the Chosen Few labelheads/tape geeks even know their name.
That will change if I have anything to do with it, by-cracky. But first I have to confess to something: A Sesame Street musical interlude from my youth has been cursing my mind of late, and I finally tracked said interlude down. Check it out:
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I bring this segment up — besides the fact that it’s been burning in my mind — because there are some similarities between the rudimentary, mathematical synth patterns in this video and those found on Side B of “Glitter Pulse.” They both adhere to a simple form, both tease at something bigger and more grandiose and both trip me the-fugg out.
But “Glitter Pulse” isn’t all about space-y, geometric figures on the keys. Many of its components are even sparer, if that can be imagined, entire movements dedicated to compositions so delicate even a slight tweak sends shudders down the spine like an acid-borne mind-flourish. The first section of Side A is dedicated entirely to a choppy robotic drone interspersed with extremely rare water-drop plunks and distant keyboarding, and that’s it; in fact, the previous description might be over-complicating things.
The secret is to go with it and see where the party takes you. In this case, you’ll be glad to know a spectacular solo synth suite awaits like a pristine waterfall at the end of a deep, rat-ridden tunnel, and you’d better enjoy it, because unlike many of the drone-like constructs of “Glitter Pulse,” this one is fleeting.
[And don't get it twisted -- this isn't, to my ears, a drone exercise (and thank Krystowiak because there are too many of those). This is a trance tape, more hypnotizing than relaxing and not as smooth-flowing, and that's an important distinction in the Age of Drone Demagoguery.]
From there more effects enter the fray, someone turns on a hand-dryer, the hand-dryer somehow comes to life and then POOF, we’re lost in the thump of campfire hand drums and distant Here Comes the Indian howls that seem to be stuck on Fast-Forward and Echo at the same time. Think Tonstartssbandht and Eola pounded into murky mush, or Prince Rama‘s old tape stuff set afire amid an ancient synth ceremony. It’s a hell of a way to go out after spending so much precious time setting the scene, and that’s what renders the whole confection that much tastier, dancing on the tip of the tongue like a drunken snake.
I’ve stayed my hour; get ready for a crazy week. I’ve got reviews of releases from Ultramarine, Hundebiss and Minority in my sites, and I also plan on evaluating what is perhaps the sickest recording I’ve heard since those Cave Bears tapes came in:
