'Larynx' reveals NYC sound artist Lary 7's imaginarium of malfunctioning toys and repurposed junk, opening a door to a soundworld that's unashamedly analog and wickedly haphazard. RIYL Pierre Bastien, L'ocelle Mare, or Christian Marclay.
Situated in New York City's iconic East Village, multimedia artist Lary 7 has been building an arsenal of Heath Robinson-esque musical inventions since the 1970s, assembling them from discarded items he'd find in Canal Street's many now shuttered junk shops. A former student of Tony Conrad, 7 has collaborated with Jimi Tenor, Jarboe, Foetus and Felix Kubin, and was even the subject of a documentary by Danielle de Picciotto called 'Not Junk Yet - The Art of Lary 7'. But despite his profile, there's never been a comprehensive collection of Lary's work until now. 'Larynx' plays like a museum exhibit of the downtown innovator's process, guiding us through his apartment studio Plastikville and introducing us to cocoa tin percussion, rewired clocks and bells, and automated xylophones.
Lary 7 is clearly serious about his creations and his process, but doesn't hesitate to make absurd juxtapositions, giving household objects a life of their own and making music from someone else's trash. On 'TEA CUP' you can hear some kind of machine wrestling with the titular porcelain, hammering it repeatedly while large gongs or symbols crash in the distance. It's the tiny details that give us the biggest clue to Lary 7's intentions - like when he pours liquid into the cup, or when on 'CONCRETOTRON BALLROOM' he attempts to challenge the stiffness of musique concréte with a sequence of sounds that veer from the humdrum (ticking clocks) to completely batshit (throaty shrieking).
Occasionally these short studies sound surprisingly contemporary. 'CLOCK STUDY (for Michael)' for example is a fractal growth of polyrhythmic oddness that's made from mechanical clock innards and sounds like something you might hear shoehorned into the tail end of a Donato Dozzy set, while 'TINITUS' is a charming cascade of tiny tuned glockenspiel hits that chime over urban birdsong. Brilliant and quite mad.
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'Larynx' reveals NYC sound artist Lary 7's imaginarium of malfunctioning toys and repurposed junk, opening a door to a soundworld that's unashamedly analog and wickedly haphazard. RIYL Pierre Bastien, L'ocelle Mare, or Christian Marclay.
Situated in New York City's iconic East Village, multimedia artist Lary 7 has been building an arsenal of Heath Robinson-esque musical inventions since the 1970s, assembling them from discarded items he'd find in Canal Street's many now shuttered junk shops. A former student of Tony Conrad, 7 has collaborated with Jimi Tenor, Jarboe, Foetus and Felix Kubin, and was even the subject of a documentary by Danielle de Picciotto called 'Not Junk Yet - The Art of Lary 7'. But despite his profile, there's never been a comprehensive collection of Lary's work until now. 'Larynx' plays like a museum exhibit of the downtown innovator's process, guiding us through his apartment studio Plastikville and introducing us to cocoa tin percussion, rewired clocks and bells, and automated xylophones.
Lary 7 is clearly serious about his creations and his process, but doesn't hesitate to make absurd juxtapositions, giving household objects a life of their own and making music from someone else's trash. On 'TEA CUP' you can hear some kind of machine wrestling with the titular porcelain, hammering it repeatedly while large gongs or symbols crash in the distance. It's the tiny details that give us the biggest clue to Lary 7's intentions - like when he pours liquid into the cup, or when on 'CONCRETOTRON BALLROOM' he attempts to challenge the stiffness of musique concréte with a sequence of sounds that veer from the humdrum (ticking clocks) to completely batshit (throaty shrieking).
Occasionally these short studies sound surprisingly contemporary. 'CLOCK STUDY (for Michael)' for example is a fractal growth of polyrhythmic oddness that's made from mechanical clock innards and sounds like something you might hear shoehorned into the tail end of a Donato Dozzy set, while 'TINITUS' is a charming cascade of tiny tuned glockenspiel hits that chime over urban birdsong. Brilliant and quite mad.
'Larynx' reveals NYC sound artist Lary 7's imaginarium of malfunctioning toys and repurposed junk, opening a door to a soundworld that's unashamedly analog and wickedly haphazard. RIYL Pierre Bastien, L'ocelle Mare, or Christian Marclay.
Situated in New York City's iconic East Village, multimedia artist Lary 7 has been building an arsenal of Heath Robinson-esque musical inventions since the 1970s, assembling them from discarded items he'd find in Canal Street's many now shuttered junk shops. A former student of Tony Conrad, 7 has collaborated with Jimi Tenor, Jarboe, Foetus and Felix Kubin, and was even the subject of a documentary by Danielle de Picciotto called 'Not Junk Yet - The Art of Lary 7'. But despite his profile, there's never been a comprehensive collection of Lary's work until now. 'Larynx' plays like a museum exhibit of the downtown innovator's process, guiding us through his apartment studio Plastikville and introducing us to cocoa tin percussion, rewired clocks and bells, and automated xylophones.
Lary 7 is clearly serious about his creations and his process, but doesn't hesitate to make absurd juxtapositions, giving household objects a life of their own and making music from someone else's trash. On 'TEA CUP' you can hear some kind of machine wrestling with the titular porcelain, hammering it repeatedly while large gongs or symbols crash in the distance. It's the tiny details that give us the biggest clue to Lary 7's intentions - like when he pours liquid into the cup, or when on 'CONCRETOTRON BALLROOM' he attempts to challenge the stiffness of musique concréte with a sequence of sounds that veer from the humdrum (ticking clocks) to completely batshit (throaty shrieking).
Occasionally these short studies sound surprisingly contemporary. 'CLOCK STUDY (for Michael)' for example is a fractal growth of polyrhythmic oddness that's made from mechanical clock innards and sounds like something you might hear shoehorned into the tail end of a Donato Dozzy set, while 'TINITUS' is a charming cascade of tiny tuned glockenspiel hits that chime over urban birdsong. Brilliant and quite mad.
'Larynx' reveals NYC sound artist Lary 7's imaginarium of malfunctioning toys and repurposed junk, opening a door to a soundworld that's unashamedly analog and wickedly haphazard. RIYL Pierre Bastien, L'ocelle Mare, or Christian Marclay.
Situated in New York City's iconic East Village, multimedia artist Lary 7 has been building an arsenal of Heath Robinson-esque musical inventions since the 1970s, assembling them from discarded items he'd find in Canal Street's many now shuttered junk shops. A former student of Tony Conrad, 7 has collaborated with Jimi Tenor, Jarboe, Foetus and Felix Kubin, and was even the subject of a documentary by Danielle de Picciotto called 'Not Junk Yet - The Art of Lary 7'. But despite his profile, there's never been a comprehensive collection of Lary's work until now. 'Larynx' plays like a museum exhibit of the downtown innovator's process, guiding us through his apartment studio Plastikville and introducing us to cocoa tin percussion, rewired clocks and bells, and automated xylophones.
Lary 7 is clearly serious about his creations and his process, but doesn't hesitate to make absurd juxtapositions, giving household objects a life of their own and making music from someone else's trash. On 'TEA CUP' you can hear some kind of machine wrestling with the titular porcelain, hammering it repeatedly while large gongs or symbols crash in the distance. It's the tiny details that give us the biggest clue to Lary 7's intentions - like when he pours liquid into the cup, or when on 'CONCRETOTRON BALLROOM' he attempts to challenge the stiffness of musique concréte with a sequence of sounds that veer from the humdrum (ticking clocks) to completely batshit (throaty shrieking).
Occasionally these short studies sound surprisingly contemporary. 'CLOCK STUDY (for Michael)' for example is a fractal growth of polyrhythmic oddness that's made from mechanical clock innards and sounds like something you might hear shoehorned into the tail end of a Donato Dozzy set, while 'TINITUS' is a charming cascade of tiny tuned glockenspiel hits that chime over urban birdsong. Brilliant and quite mad.
2LP pressed at RTI inside a tip-on jacket printed at Stoughton. Lacquer cut directly from reel-to-reel by Paul Gold.
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'Larynx' reveals NYC sound artist Lary 7's imaginarium of malfunctioning toys and repurposed junk, opening a door to a soundworld that's unashamedly analog and wickedly haphazard. RIYL Pierre Bastien, L'ocelle Mare, or Christian Marclay.
Situated in New York City's iconic East Village, multimedia artist Lary 7 has been building an arsenal of Heath Robinson-esque musical inventions since the 1970s, assembling them from discarded items he'd find in Canal Street's many now shuttered junk shops. A former student of Tony Conrad, 7 has collaborated with Jimi Tenor, Jarboe, Foetus and Felix Kubin, and was even the subject of a documentary by Danielle de Picciotto called 'Not Junk Yet - The Art of Lary 7'. But despite his profile, there's never been a comprehensive collection of Lary's work until now. 'Larynx' plays like a museum exhibit of the downtown innovator's process, guiding us through his apartment studio Plastikville and introducing us to cocoa tin percussion, rewired clocks and bells, and automated xylophones.
Lary 7 is clearly serious about his creations and his process, but doesn't hesitate to make absurd juxtapositions, giving household objects a life of their own and making music from someone else's trash. On 'TEA CUP' you can hear some kind of machine wrestling with the titular porcelain, hammering it repeatedly while large gongs or symbols crash in the distance. It's the tiny details that give us the biggest clue to Lary 7's intentions - like when he pours liquid into the cup, or when on 'CONCRETOTRON BALLROOM' he attempts to challenge the stiffness of musique concréte with a sequence of sounds that veer from the humdrum (ticking clocks) to completely batshit (throaty shrieking).
Occasionally these short studies sound surprisingly contemporary. 'CLOCK STUDY (for Michael)' for example is a fractal growth of polyrhythmic oddness that's made from mechanical clock innards and sounds like something you might hear shoehorned into the tail end of a Donato Dozzy set, while 'TINITUS' is a charming cascade of tiny tuned glockenspiel hits that chime over urban birdsong. Brilliant and quite mad.