Foxy Digitalis: [Thy-012].

January 6, 2012

Steve Dewhurst’s Best Cdr of 2011.

Seasons (Pre-Din) provided me with my first review and interview for Foxy Digitalis, all the way back in March. It’s true I have a soft spot for the mysterious artist’s work and I do find it incredibly sad that he chose to stop making music after this, one of his most powerful releases. The impression I got from him during the interview (which was done via email – I never found out his real name or saw a picture of his entire face) was that he’d completely exhausted himself through music and had reached a point from which he found it impossible to continue. Lesser and Still, full of hidden anger and frustration, was a suitably epic way to end a project that developed out of piano miniatures into radio static and through to flat-out noise terror.


The music of our anonymous friend Seasons (pre-din) has become a very welcome visitor to the Wonderful Wooden Reasons seedee player. His music is sometimes melancholic, sometimes aggressive, always deeply immersive. Here, he presents a short(ish) set of gritty drones occasionally threaded with dialogue, sometimes audible, sometimes not. It’s a sublime album that is easy to find oneself utterly lost within. My sole complaint is with the long period of silence in the middle of the final track that seems a little pointlessly indulgent and serves only to break the mood and make the final swelling of sound feel like an afterthought.
As ever though this is music to be relished.

I once wrote a really silly review for this chap’s album on Type. It was very truthful and rather affectionate, merely describing what I was hearing/experiencing in comedy layman’s terms rather than overintellectualising the work like the clever kids do. This ruse actually worked a treat once, I learned, when a man came up to me in Brighton saying he’d had Cindy talk on his experimental internet radio show & they’d read my review for a sound-art inclined 10″ of theirs live on-air. My butt clenched & my blood momentarily froze in horror as I recalled my ridiculous, rambling, irreverent review… until he guffawed & informed me the band had been in tears of laughter at my lumpen, harried description of their lovingly sculpted sound-world. My story therefore makes a good review because to try & intelligently convey this dissonant, ominous & foggy dystopian trip is pretty difficult! Grainy muted snippets of dialogue chunter over a calm wash of radio hiss & white noise? You got it. Thrumming, malevolence & fuzzed-out industrial abstraction? Knock yourself out! The final track knocks back the aural mist & introduces some of the most sombre & beautiful synth work I’ve heard this year, with some more tastefully applied disembodied dialogue, albeit of the most indecipherable & ghostly manner. A fine end to an absorbing listen.

The Liminal: [Thy-012].

April 1, 2011

I’ve already mentioned Eleh, but here is another deeply mysterious character. This latest release from Seasons (Pre-Din) isn’t giving much away, other than an unsettling air of dangerously obsessive love. The cover is shadowy dark brown on black, a sweet personalised dedication sitting next to the words “I’ll be waiting with a knife and a rope…bare your soul, expose your throat”. Valentine’s Day must be a right bloody laugh chez Pre-Din. The contents are no less troubling. Over droning strings, Charles Manson rants psychotically, (it is the same “every reality is a new reality” speech that Coil once sampled), and the music just gets progressively darker and darker from there, the field recordings sounding increasingly blistered, the radio samples becoming tangled and buried under the encroaching tendrils of gloom. Even by the third of its five parts, the blackness is all that is left. Anyone arriving here by following the trails from the gothic menace of more recent work by Xela and Svarte Greiner will find much to enjoy in this particular clearing. Well, I say “enjoy”.

Was Ist Das?: [Thy-012].

March 30, 2011

Sometimes, words feel like such a blunt tool when you find yourself confronted with something so otherworldly. Not that it comes as too much of a surprise, the works of Seasons (pre-din) often leave words obsolete.

I’m pleased to say Yeti the dog tolerates this one, which is unusual as Seasons (pre-din) normally makes him kick off.

This could be because this one is a bit more synth-dominated with a pool swirling in the background of static, voices and alien sounds. As the release progresses, this pool comes to the fore, although the spoken words parts remain distant and only just discernible with effort.

For some reason I am reminded of a film I have never seen. Long ago, in a long gone shop, I read about a film called ‘Static’ about an inventor who claimed to have invented a TV set that allowed you to see heaven.

That is what Seasons (pre-din) is like – a musical window on to a strange other world.

There are a lot of very talented experimental musicians about these days, all vying for your attention. I would recommend that you fast track Seasons (pre-din) to the top of your list.

Wendy Cook: [Thy-012].

March 25, 2011

This is the 12th album from the mysterious Seasons(pre-din). It is de rigeur to use the prefix “mysterious” as no-one apparently knows who or what the project is. A little mystery in these days of uber-information is itself an achievement, but if mystery was all there was, there’d be no need to listen to the album week after week.

The icy chill of Lesser & Still is reminiscent of Aluminum Overcast by Chas Smith, an album seeming to belong to the outer reaches of the Solar System. Lesser and Still has the static hiss and detuned radio to soundtrack an abandoned space station, a sketch of slow patient hopeless eternity. The embedded film track samples, “it’s a different ocean it’s a different world”, fall as echoes in empty corridors.

Many reviews of Seasons speak of a cold dark disaffection but there is warm humanity deep in the core of these albums and something familiar in their dialect, like hearing a familiar accent when far from home. Though the descriptions may be of the least homely parts of the universe, they are brought by a friend, like the reassurance and terror of a parent reading ghost stories at bedtime. This balance of tone is part of the fascination of Lesser and Still.

Over the development of twelve varied albums, Seasons (pre-din) has built sound pictures from field recordings, processed instruments and from straight piano and guitar. Cathedrals of manipulation, chapels of sound. Seasons has an iron belief in the sound worlds he walks in – an ability to follow where they lead and an unblinking ability to gaze and gaze. Lesser and Still is an unflinching album with the reassurance of truth, of honesty. It is a shared recognition which makes it so compelling.

The man behind Seasons (Pre-Din) has been releasing beautifully hand-packaged CDs on his own Thy-Rec label for two or three years now. Every few months or so, with zero fanfare or prior warning, a new one will emerge out of the ether. Always emblazoned with a cryptic line of poetry (in this case, “I’ll be waiting with a knife and a rope…bare your soul and expose your throat”), the title of the record and little else, there’s a sense of mystery about the entire package that I find impossible to resist. Ranging from ebb/flow piano miniatures to dead-of-night drone, each of his releases feels like a tiny puzzle to be solved.

The five untitled and continuous tracks on Lesser and Still (Thy-012) are perhaps his most visceral yet. Opening with the tinny, slightly muffled sound of a long-lost radio broadcast (“the truth is in the gas chamber,” brr) and a gloomy swell of strings, the sense of foreboding is immediately palpable. There’s a rumble behind it coming from who-knows-where and before you know it you’ve been submerged in a maelstrom of FM static and the deafening whir of what sounds like helicopter propellers. Honestly, I don’t know what makes these sounds – no one does but the man himself – but it’s amongst the most evocative music I’ve heard in recent years. It gets louder; soon we’re taking off across untold plains. The strings hold and soar, the storm whips around us, strips our skin away and leaves us at the mercy of the screeching metallic horror gradually approaching. The radio voices return – indecipherable this time – chattering away, giving us hell and forcing our hands to our ears. Before we know it we’re being plunged into a vacuum (perhaps the gas chamber itself?), which sucks the final pathetic dregs of life out of our wasted bodies before disappearing almost as quickly as it took over. The strings return, mournful now, and the radio is shattered, crackling and fragmenting before fading into total silence.

It’s intense, sure, but boy is it exhilarating. Seasons (Pre-Din) keeps his records brief (I don’t think any of them exceed 30 minutes) and this serves to heighten the impact. His most recent releases are short, sharp shocks of pure, fearsome energy. In places Lesser and Still reminds me of Alan Lamb’s terrific Night Passage, on which the “songs” were created by attaching contact microphones to half-mile lengths of telephone wire and left alone over periods of time. That is to say that Lesser and Still feels less organic than some of his previous records – which have featured anything from birds chirping to babbling brooks (or things that sound like that, at least) – and more like a man-made nightmare of clashing metals, raging furnaces and total desolation.

Rumour has it that Lesser and Still may be the final Seasons (Pre-Din) release. If it does turn out that way, this is a fine way to say goodbye. Snap one up before they disappear forever.

Still anonymous, still clever enough to avoid bullshit. After my enjoyment of a previous release on Mystery Sea a while ago, Seasons (Pre-Din) comes back with a 130-copy limited edition exploiting the useful nuances deriving from a coincidence of radio ghosts, camouflaged instruments, urban landscapes and various kinds of noise. In some aspects, the CD might constitute (stereotype alert!) a soundtrack for an imminent apocalypse: listen to the cyber-seagull-like muffled squealing at the beginning of the fifth section (there’s also a phantom track whose instrumental basis is rather Pink Floyd-ish). The predominant pressure and the ominous atmosphere – facilitated by omnipresent subsonics and sinisterly morphing timbral combinations – are vaguely comparable with other realities from the same district (dark post-industrial whatchamacallit and bordering regions). Indeed, selected parts made yours truly fantasize about a Lustmord/Morthound crossbreed. However, once again the protagonist managed to separate his music from cheap commonplace, dousing the whole work with a tangible anguish that keeps it quite distant from the syrupy boredom typical of 90% of this stuff. A potential explosion of violence looms, but it never happens; tension is not released, and many sounds are just great to hear. Another good one – and “for Massimo Ricci” is even printed on the cover. Who knows if it’s a personalized promo – I think so – or an actual dedication to this barking scribbler? Go, (Pre-din), go.

Boomkat: [Thy-012].

February 17, 2011

Earlier this week we felt a bitterly cold chill in the boomkat cave. A few hours later somebody noticed a box of new Seasons (pre-din) CDs. They turned out to be a new album ‘Lesser And Still’, another bleak yet beautifully ethereal transmission which comes to us after what seems like a bit of a hiatus from the Seasons (Pre-Din) camp. Anyone familiar with his work will know that the sound features a potent substance mined from the darkest recesses of the psyche and sculpted by processes of elemental attrition, or so we’d like to imagine. The truth is, nobody (apart from the artist) knows how this music comes into being. There are discernible layers of field recorded textures, FM voices, wind-picked symphonic strings swells and lung-sucking atmospheric pressure changes, but the methods used to achieve this are suitably clandestine. There are four shorter tracks and one final extended piece, infinitely elastic in headspace/time, triggering the sixth sense to search for the source of acousmatic howls in the distance. As ever, these are hand-made and packaged with all the care and attention you’d expect. Recommended!

Norman Records: [Thy-011].

January 21, 2011

O’ joy.