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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.
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.
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.
Minimal long form drone-based ambience that rises and falls over the course of it's near hour length, allowing the listener to fully immerse themselves in it's charms and wonders. There are some beautiful textures that evolve over time, little touches that inspire and appeal throughout. Really great stuff... rikm