Hague-based artist and writer Marianna Maruyama locks a gaze with veteran Dutch noise composer Hessel Veldman on 'Salt', investigating the voice's mutability over Veldman's nebulous interference and subterranean drones. Deep, deep gear - one for fans of Deathprod, Kathy Acker or Robert Ashley's enduring 'Purposeful Lady Slow Afternoon'.
Veldman's been producing low-key experimental works since the '70s - his early tapes on labels like VPRO and Exart are the stuff of legend - and has experienced a renaissance recently thanks to STROOM's 'Eigen Boezem', a crucial anthology of some of his DIY pop improvisations that appeared back in 2020. That's hardly scratching the surface, though; he's best known for his work for radio productions, and 'Salt' draws from this experience, underpinning Maruyama's poetic readings with subtle, discomfiting industrial ambience. Described by Maruyama as "a ritual cleansing of the years," the album grew from archival fragments excavated by the two artists; Maruyama references a viral piece she wrote over a decade ago called 'How to Lose Your Voice', that gives us a starting point. "I wonder where my voice is gone," she mutters on 'Viktorija', "and to whom it has spoken." She was fascinated by not just the loss of the voice - she mentions an interview with a woman who had her larynx removed - but the way it changes over time. So she reflects on her life in the Netherlands, and in Tokyo before that, collaging her thoughts into hypnagogic poems over Veldman's restrained soundscapes.
On 'Feeling Four', Veldman's treatments are barely audible at first, just muffled sub bass thumps that chillingly follow the rhythm of Maruyama's text. "This boat feels like a cork in the sea," she repeats, while Veldman's sine tones undulate as if they're bellowing from a club on another block. It's only as the track reaches its conclusion that Veldman's sonics peek up from beneath the covers, when scratchy distortion traces over the bassy rhythm, and anxious, gaseous industrial whooshes sweep across Marayuma's abstracted account of a storm at sea. "I think I have exhausted my time," she says on 'Are You Satisfied?', and Veldman matches her enervation with dissociation, alloying stammering melodies and lower case white noise to create a dimly lit backdrop that avoids the usual "dark ambient" pitfalls. For our money, 'Salt' is closer to Kathy Acker and Nox's brilliant 'Love, Emily', or '6:15', from Deathprod's genius early album 'Reference Frequencies'. It's a study of language and memory that encourages the deepest possible listening - trust us, if you tune into this one, it doesn't let go. Massive recommendation!
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Hague-based artist and writer Marianna Maruyama locks a gaze with veteran Dutch noise composer Hessel Veldman on 'Salt', investigating the voice's mutability over Veldman's nebulous interference and subterranean drones. Deep, deep gear - one for fans of Deathprod, Kathy Acker or Robert Ashley's enduring 'Purposeful Lady Slow Afternoon'.
Veldman's been producing low-key experimental works since the '70s - his early tapes on labels like VPRO and Exart are the stuff of legend - and has experienced a renaissance recently thanks to STROOM's 'Eigen Boezem', a crucial anthology of some of his DIY pop improvisations that appeared back in 2020. That's hardly scratching the surface, though; he's best known for his work for radio productions, and 'Salt' draws from this experience, underpinning Maruyama's poetic readings with subtle, discomfiting industrial ambience. Described by Maruyama as "a ritual cleansing of the years," the album grew from archival fragments excavated by the two artists; Maruyama references a viral piece she wrote over a decade ago called 'How to Lose Your Voice', that gives us a starting point. "I wonder where my voice is gone," she mutters on 'Viktorija', "and to whom it has spoken." She was fascinated by not just the loss of the voice - she mentions an interview with a woman who had her larynx removed - but the way it changes over time. So she reflects on her life in the Netherlands, and in Tokyo before that, collaging her thoughts into hypnagogic poems over Veldman's restrained soundscapes.
On 'Feeling Four', Veldman's treatments are barely audible at first, just muffled sub bass thumps that chillingly follow the rhythm of Maruyama's text. "This boat feels like a cork in the sea," she repeats, while Veldman's sine tones undulate as if they're bellowing from a club on another block. It's only as the track reaches its conclusion that Veldman's sonics peek up from beneath the covers, when scratchy distortion traces over the bassy rhythm, and anxious, gaseous industrial whooshes sweep across Marayuma's abstracted account of a storm at sea. "I think I have exhausted my time," she says on 'Are You Satisfied?', and Veldman matches her enervation with dissociation, alloying stammering melodies and lower case white noise to create a dimly lit backdrop that avoids the usual "dark ambient" pitfalls. For our money, 'Salt' is closer to Kathy Acker and Nox's brilliant 'Love, Emily', or '6:15', from Deathprod's genius early album 'Reference Frequencies'. It's a study of language and memory that encourages the deepest possible listening - trust us, if you tune into this one, it doesn't let go. Massive recommendation!
Hague-based artist and writer Marianna Maruyama locks a gaze with veteran Dutch noise composer Hessel Veldman on 'Salt', investigating the voice's mutability over Veldman's nebulous interference and subterranean drones. Deep, deep gear - one for fans of Deathprod, Kathy Acker or Robert Ashley's enduring 'Purposeful Lady Slow Afternoon'.
Veldman's been producing low-key experimental works since the '70s - his early tapes on labels like VPRO and Exart are the stuff of legend - and has experienced a renaissance recently thanks to STROOM's 'Eigen Boezem', a crucial anthology of some of his DIY pop improvisations that appeared back in 2020. That's hardly scratching the surface, though; he's best known for his work for radio productions, and 'Salt' draws from this experience, underpinning Maruyama's poetic readings with subtle, discomfiting industrial ambience. Described by Maruyama as "a ritual cleansing of the years," the album grew from archival fragments excavated by the two artists; Maruyama references a viral piece she wrote over a decade ago called 'How to Lose Your Voice', that gives us a starting point. "I wonder where my voice is gone," she mutters on 'Viktorija', "and to whom it has spoken." She was fascinated by not just the loss of the voice - she mentions an interview with a woman who had her larynx removed - but the way it changes over time. So she reflects on her life in the Netherlands, and in Tokyo before that, collaging her thoughts into hypnagogic poems over Veldman's restrained soundscapes.
On 'Feeling Four', Veldman's treatments are barely audible at first, just muffled sub bass thumps that chillingly follow the rhythm of Maruyama's text. "This boat feels like a cork in the sea," she repeats, while Veldman's sine tones undulate as if they're bellowing from a club on another block. It's only as the track reaches its conclusion that Veldman's sonics peek up from beneath the covers, when scratchy distortion traces over the bassy rhythm, and anxious, gaseous industrial whooshes sweep across Marayuma's abstracted account of a storm at sea. "I think I have exhausted my time," she says on 'Are You Satisfied?', and Veldman matches her enervation with dissociation, alloying stammering melodies and lower case white noise to create a dimly lit backdrop that avoids the usual "dark ambient" pitfalls. For our money, 'Salt' is closer to Kathy Acker and Nox's brilliant 'Love, Emily', or '6:15', from Deathprod's genius early album 'Reference Frequencies'. It's a study of language and memory that encourages the deepest possible listening - trust us, if you tune into this one, it doesn't let go. Massive recommendation!
Hague-based artist and writer Marianna Maruyama locks a gaze with veteran Dutch noise composer Hessel Veldman on 'Salt', investigating the voice's mutability over Veldman's nebulous interference and subterranean drones. Deep, deep gear - one for fans of Deathprod, Kathy Acker or Robert Ashley's enduring 'Purposeful Lady Slow Afternoon'.
Veldman's been producing low-key experimental works since the '70s - his early tapes on labels like VPRO and Exart are the stuff of legend - and has experienced a renaissance recently thanks to STROOM's 'Eigen Boezem', a crucial anthology of some of his DIY pop improvisations that appeared back in 2020. That's hardly scratching the surface, though; he's best known for his work for radio productions, and 'Salt' draws from this experience, underpinning Maruyama's poetic readings with subtle, discomfiting industrial ambience. Described by Maruyama as "a ritual cleansing of the years," the album grew from archival fragments excavated by the two artists; Maruyama references a viral piece she wrote over a decade ago called 'How to Lose Your Voice', that gives us a starting point. "I wonder where my voice is gone," she mutters on 'Viktorija', "and to whom it has spoken." She was fascinated by not just the loss of the voice - she mentions an interview with a woman who had her larynx removed - but the way it changes over time. So she reflects on her life in the Netherlands, and in Tokyo before that, collaging her thoughts into hypnagogic poems over Veldman's restrained soundscapes.
On 'Feeling Four', Veldman's treatments are barely audible at first, just muffled sub bass thumps that chillingly follow the rhythm of Maruyama's text. "This boat feels like a cork in the sea," she repeats, while Veldman's sine tones undulate as if they're bellowing from a club on another block. It's only as the track reaches its conclusion that Veldman's sonics peek up from beneath the covers, when scratchy distortion traces over the bassy rhythm, and anxious, gaseous industrial whooshes sweep across Marayuma's abstracted account of a storm at sea. "I think I have exhausted my time," she says on 'Are You Satisfied?', and Veldman matches her enervation with dissociation, alloying stammering melodies and lower case white noise to create a dimly lit backdrop that avoids the usual "dark ambient" pitfalls. For our money, 'Salt' is closer to Kathy Acker and Nox's brilliant 'Love, Emily', or '6:15', from Deathprod's genius early album 'Reference Frequencies'. It's a study of language and memory that encourages the deepest possible listening - trust us, if you tune into this one, it doesn't let go. Massive recommendation!
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Hague-based artist and writer Marianna Maruyama locks a gaze with veteran Dutch noise composer Hessel Veldman on 'Salt', investigating the voice's mutability over Veldman's nebulous interference and subterranean drones. Deep, deep gear - one for fans of Deathprod, Kathy Acker or Robert Ashley's enduring 'Purposeful Lady Slow Afternoon'.
Veldman's been producing low-key experimental works since the '70s - his early tapes on labels like VPRO and Exart are the stuff of legend - and has experienced a renaissance recently thanks to STROOM's 'Eigen Boezem', a crucial anthology of some of his DIY pop improvisations that appeared back in 2020. That's hardly scratching the surface, though; he's best known for his work for radio productions, and 'Salt' draws from this experience, underpinning Maruyama's poetic readings with subtle, discomfiting industrial ambience. Described by Maruyama as "a ritual cleansing of the years," the album grew from archival fragments excavated by the two artists; Maruyama references a viral piece she wrote over a decade ago called 'How to Lose Your Voice', that gives us a starting point. "I wonder where my voice is gone," she mutters on 'Viktorija', "and to whom it has spoken." She was fascinated by not just the loss of the voice - she mentions an interview with a woman who had her larynx removed - but the way it changes over time. So she reflects on her life in the Netherlands, and in Tokyo before that, collaging her thoughts into hypnagogic poems over Veldman's restrained soundscapes.
On 'Feeling Four', Veldman's treatments are barely audible at first, just muffled sub bass thumps that chillingly follow the rhythm of Maruyama's text. "This boat feels like a cork in the sea," she repeats, while Veldman's sine tones undulate as if they're bellowing from a club on another block. It's only as the track reaches its conclusion that Veldman's sonics peek up from beneath the covers, when scratchy distortion traces over the bassy rhythm, and anxious, gaseous industrial whooshes sweep across Marayuma's abstracted account of a storm at sea. "I think I have exhausted my time," she says on 'Are You Satisfied?', and Veldman matches her enervation with dissociation, alloying stammering melodies and lower case white noise to create a dimly lit backdrop that avoids the usual "dark ambient" pitfalls. For our money, 'Salt' is closer to Kathy Acker and Nox's brilliant 'Love, Emily', or '6:15', from Deathprod's genius early album 'Reference Frequencies'. It's a study of language and memory that encourages the deepest possible listening - trust us, if you tune into this one, it doesn't let go. Massive recommendation!