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Counter

by SVR

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    Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.
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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Assembled by hand, one copy at a time, in the White Pillar Workshop. A white 5" recordable disc, printed and duplicated via an Imation D20, housed inside a white paperboard sleeve with two custom text decals on the front and back.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Counter via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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  • INVESTIGATE MORE SVR RECORDINGS AT THE ARTIST'S BANDCAMP PAGE

1.
XXXIV 09:12
2.
XXXV 09:20
3.
XXXVI 06:35
4.
XXXVII 12:42
5.
XXXVIII 12:29

about

Dense plumes of smoke slowly form an upward wall from some unfathomably deep abyssal opening beneath us. Shades of not just grey, but violet and port-wine burgundy, subtly backlit by slow flashes of silver light, exploding suns, holes in dimensional fabric, or even sparks from some infernal foundry, sunken like an iron tomb in the belly of Hell. These curious shapes and distant spasms of backlit depth, themselves seemingly sentient and alluring, indicate above all else a sensation of immense distance, time and space being traversed in a black and irradiated shortcut, a utility tunnel between the planes. We can only presume that, despite such distances being bridged in some non-Euclidean way, the reverberations we hear are indicators that this distance nonetheless exists. As this smoke-thing that seems to be much more than smoke now enters our lungs and singes our squinting eyes, we're more deeply aware of a communion taking place, minds chained together instead of hands, slack-jaws murmuring drones in some sinful unison instead of recognizable language. Curvatures of planets we've never seen convey themselves first as horizon lines, dipped in alien twin-sunsets, before exploding in silent majesty like unfurling fractals in every color. Gigantic gravities suck us downward into a warmth that goes backward in time, some great returning to the womb calling us home, those intermittent cracks of light in the haze getting closer, wider, more familiar. Our minds as we knew them are now themselves memories and fragments of memories, artifacts from a different time, now merely spattered paint on an impossibly black firmament that swallows everything up not out of hunger or sustenance, but in becoming everything.

credits

released October 2, 2020

W/P by SVR. Text and design by ABM&D. This is Psøma Psi Phi number ØΨΦXXXI. (c) + (p) SVR & Psoma Psi Phi 2020. All rights reserved.

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Psøma Psi Phi Dayton, Ohio

Sleep fictions, lucid maps and gnostic states. Asemic systems designed by night smokers, bedroom alchemists and oligolaliacs, for intimate applications. Est. MMXVII.

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