Rick Reed. Appears to have escaped mention, though he did receive relatively recent praise in Playlist. Field recordings merge with buzzing analog drone, often flirting with the louder ends of the spectrum, always quite varied in motion and texture over the lengthy duration. The dense layers frequently overlap at different speeds producing a psychedelic effect somewhat reminiscent of Jarl. Most pieces will reach a peak at some point and fade, either very slowly, or suddenly. The picks are the recent Dark Skies At Noon and The Way Things Go, both on Elevator Bath.
Curious to hear his three-way with Keith Rowe and Bill Thompson. A couple recordings I have of Voltage Spooks (Rowe and Reed) would seem to suggest something a bit more active and noise-worthy, but perhaps Thompson serves as a muting force.
Core. Chants Of Race And Emptiness, from this Cranioclast off-shoot. This is actually one of my all-time favorite albums from an all-time favorite off-shoot of an all-time favorite recording unit. The sound very much lives up to the title, hollowed out dis-embodied drone-textures that really should have achieved much more acclaim than seems apparent. We do, in fact, hear what sound like Tibetan chants at rare intervals, but always so far down in the mix, never really offering more than hints or suggestions of ritual. This might almost be darkambient were it no so cold. Their follow-up, An Area's Era Aria, is not quite up to the same heights methinks, but remains a wonderfully subtle work.
Cranioclast also delivered an excellent piece of drone in the two-part Iconclastar, Green (I) and Blue (II). The intro to the green disc is superb, extremes of high and low frequencies playing against one another to render rather ominous, somewhat unsettled, atmospheres. At high volumes this thing positively throbs, particularly through the agitated buzzsaw rhythms of the second movement. As the narrative elaborates, the constant push and pull between an underlying agitation and more smoothly sedate pastorals is what makes it for me. But the whole things just flows wonderfully, just a superb, complete, package.
Thomas Koner. Daikan. One of Koner's lesser acknowledged pieces, possibly de-graded owing to its status as sound component of greater multi-media project. I just love the tone here, however. One long piece, a very non-obstrusive flow, warm billowing layers embracing you in their womb-like cocoon; quite the irony given that the title refers to some rather out-moded kanji conjuring images of blasted subzero hellscapes. Not at all like that, Tom.
