Thursday, March 15, 2018

Two blasts of sonic heaviness from The Pet Goat Records!

Last weekend Disaster Amnesiac was in attendance for a bittersweet event. Noisebridge Hackerspace, a really down to earth, fun spot for hackers and digital makers in the Mission District of San Francisco, was having what was likely to be its last Godwaffle Noise Pancakes show. Godwaffle itself is in real danger of not having anywhere to happen in the City, as Grux can't seem to find a new venue. Hopefully, he'll soldier on, as these shows are absolutely fun. Dario, main man of the powerful Noise project Blood of Chhinnamastika, hooked me up with a couple of recent releases from his The Pet Goat Records. As my bloodied perceptions stumble away from their sonic pounding, here are some enthused thoughts!

Blood of Chhinnamastika-self titled, cassette; The Pet Goat Records #97, no date given
Having seen Blood of Chhinnamastika live a handful of times, Disaster Amnesiac knows that it's a project that can seem somewhat assaulting. That said, my take is that Dario wants to find a way to get an audience moving, and as such will wade into their fray in order to do so. With this eponymous cassette tape, Blood of Chhinnamastika moves the battle to the home listener's ears. Big, whirling, fried electronics blast out from the three tracks contained within it. Power Electronics moves are thrown with jolting force, sometimes left to drone and waver dramatically, sometimes cut up and juxtaposed with recorded voices. Within the former spaces, and at high volumes, tracks such as Death Is the Greatest Teacher, See No Hope, and Unreality Tortures (great title!) kick some serious sonic ass as they fly out into the air. Huge, blackened blocks of what I'd imagine are sounds sourced from analog synthesizers, pedals, and digital methods are combined to stun the brain with their force. The cut ups at times provide some levity as the human voice is made to stumble, babbling away with stunted non-eloquence. Disaster Amnesiac can't help but wonder if these passages Blood of Chhinnamastika's none too subtle commentary on the human proclivity towards verbal diarrhea. At other times, it's as if the vocals of some subterranean being have been captured within their natural habitat. Demonic as all get out, that's for sure. Surreal and seriously fried, this tape must be cranked up loud for its full effect, and Disaster Amnesiac highly recommends that you follow suit.

Microwave Windows/Blood of Chhinnamastika-CD; The Pet Goat Records#98, no date given
The duo of Microwave Windows and Blood of Chhinnamastika actually played the Hackerspace event mentioned within the the intro to this post. Their set certainly was powerful, but it is this CD which really shows off their finely honed chemistry. Starting off with the burbling, bubbling sounds of Stab Homing, this pair dig down deep into some pretty bonkers action. Freespace Power follows on track two with some harsh feedback which leads into robotic death burps and junkyard scraping. This track keeps making Disaster Amnesiac think about the ending scene of the Exorcist III, in which, if recalled correctly, had some dire warning about the impending Hell on earth paired with a soundtrack that sounded a lot like this stuff. The Noise cuts directly into Sentient Craggy Mantilla from there, wherein some type of signal gets the shred treatment from competing banks of digitized mania, leading up to a wild, fuzzy retard that lingers into the disc's centerpiece, Call And (Phantom) Response. It weaves masterfully jacked beats, Blood's cut up techniques, waves of glitched mania and spewed feedback into a heavily layered treatise of Noise. This fucker rages and pummels for a good fifteen and one half minutes of extreme noise terror (yes, I know). Microwave Windows and Chhinnamastika proceed next down Too Many Rabbit Holes, in which signals get flanged and 'verbed. Disaster Amnesiac has been digging the percussive sounds on it, along with the shredding slow build of its second half, which melts into its earlier sonic elements. The Holes blend seamlessly into Smashing Paper Cranes; this second longest track on the CD gives off sparks of wiry energy. I hear a laser war in some past iteration of the planet coming from what I believe to be Moogerfoogers chained into a loop of audio barbed wire. Again, there are just layers and layers of stuff happening with the action. The relatively placid Atmospheric Chemistry ends things Pet Goat #98, with wheedling scraps of electronics and ghostly feedback spitting some demented goodbye. The last minute or so seem to even feature some type of emergency broadcast network sirens. Fitting, as Microwave Windows and Blood of Chhinnamastika have pretty much destroyed your shit with this release.

Places such as Noisebridge Hackerspace and getting more and more rare within the SF Bay Area, but, hey, Disaster Amnesiac has already told you that. Thankfully, there's a rich, varied Noise scene that's pretty deeply ensconced. Will these myriad acts have any spaces in which to play? I'm thinking that they'll find ways to get out and get down with their sounds. Surely, if you find these spots, you'll find the likes of Blood of Chhinnamastika and Microwave Windows going at it within them. In the meantime, one can find stellar examples of their moves at Pet Goat Records. Give 'em a click or two!

Friday, March 2, 2018

Steve Mackay and the Radon Ensemble-Tunnel Diner; Muteant Sounds digital release, 2017

Back we go to the Muteant Sounds haul for this installment of Disaster Amnesiac's 2018 campaign to make it ten years of my little corner of the internet writing game! Where does the time go?
We all know where Steve Mackay went, him being a member of the Stooges and all. One has to figure that his way out tenor honking on L.A. Blues was the initial serving of Out Jazz for many  a music fan, myself included. It was really cool to see that he spent his last years being recognized and lauded for his talents. As far as Disaster Amnesiac can tell, the decades between the Stooges initial moves and their eventual renaissance were lean for Mackay. Is this the case?
Originally released in an extremely limited vinyl edition (26 copies!?), Tunnel Diner has been given a much wider potential audience on this digital release from Muteant, and hopefully Mackay's sounds find their way into many more peoples' ears that way!
Starting off with Brooklyn, North Carolina, Mackay leads the charge with some very soulful phrasing which indeed blends the urban intensity often blown through the tenor saxophone with gritty countrified accents. As Disaster Amnesiac has listened, I've thought over and over and this sound being a prime example of the Harmelodic approach to music. This is not to say that it's at all academic sounding: we find some really juicy Jazz playing therein. Steve gets some really funky backing from what sounds like steel drums, which add even more sweetness to the nectar as they pair with slamming Funk rhythms from the drums and bass.
The drums switch to a kind of tribal pounding feel for Bohunk Lane. Wah wah bass and odd electronics skitch and skitter atop this drum maelstrom, a second line at Burning Man before Steve and another reed man (sorry, scant credits on the Bandcamp page), intertwine their horn riff, one of them eventually taking a short solo before the whole thing gets clipped off rather abruptly.
Mackay and his partner kick off Sans Frontiers with more of that great duo exchange, longer held notes being framed by electronics and Free drumming. Wordless vocalizing enters into the mix as the group kicks off into more of their energetic weaving, the group eventually getting kicked into overdrive by intense guitar chords. It would indeed be tough to put a fence around improvisations made up of energy levels this high.
The Frontier leads to a short interlude called Patrick's Brain Aneurysm where bells and snare rolls get tenor sax smears and mourning hollers before ending up at place of pure solo energy from Mackay. The saxophonist lays it out emotionally naked and intimate, pairing sax tones with sighs and moans.
Side A of Tunnel Diner concludes with Mixed Martial Language. A rolling drum line, more steel drums, bass guitar ostinato and wiggy sax lines lead up to some cathartic vocalizing from a contrite lyric from a dude that want's the listener to know that he's "trying". Disaster Amnesiac is glad to let into this crazed confessional, despite being a bit nervous at the emotional intimacy of it.
One thing that strikes Disaster Amnesiac as I've moved from side A to B on Tunnel Diner is that the band sounds as if they're getting a lot more warm, midway through this set.  Canal Street opens the side with some intricately honked tenor from Mackay, paired with electronic whisps before the steel drums strike up again, quickly followed by thick percussive maelstrom; all of this action pushes Steve into some passionate shredding, his voice going all manic and insistent.
This energy persists into 200,000 Sax Players In Nashville as the electric bass rolls, the percussion tumbles, and the sax offers up more of those fine voices that give off heavy Blues vibes.
These two pieces serve as introductions to the the LP's title track, in which the entire rhythm sections gels into a heavy marching tempo, as Tunnel Diner's surreal second line pushes Mackay to summon up the Pharaoh. The physical impact of his notes spread out from the speakers and push the ears around a bit before syncopating beautifully with the rest of the group. A bonkers, funky bass line pushes Soul to spare and, naturally, the group responds accordingly.
As more of those shards of electronics take Tunnel Diner out, they lead to a bit more of an introspective, ESP-Disk place for Tu Croire C'Est Gratuit???. Paired horns moan and mourn a bit on this one, giving Disaster Amnesiac thoughts of spiritual services in some doomed domicile. Eventually the guitar pushes the playing out into more rhythmic bump and grind: hands clap, cymbals pop, ring modulators whirr, and before too long the group is back on Bourbon St., kicking butt and flashing on high.
Naturally, it makes sense for the group to blast off from Sun Ra's confining planet (not Saturn, hint hint) to take things out, and out they certainly do with Voyage To Arcturus. The Radon Ensemble scrawls, beeps, blips, honks, and pounds on the tune, truly sounding at one point as they're more of a rocket engine than a group of mere Jazz men. A powerful sendoff, and, yes Space IS the Place for these dudes.
Presumably pleasing to Free Jazz heads and/or headbangers of the Stooge-ian stripe, Steve Mackay and the Radon Ensemble's Tunnel Diner is a fiery and powerful document of a legendary player, doing his thing, no holds barred and ripping. Disaster Amnesiac is sad that I never got to see this group play live. I suspect that this one will stay in my rotation for a good long while.

Saturday, February 24, 2018

Wolfmangler-Cooking With Wolves; Black Horizons Records, 2008

A recent trip down to Venice, CA had Disaster Amnesiac checking out a small, funky shop on Venice Blvd. I'd already picked out a few slabs when Cooking With Wolves, a 2008 release from Wolfmangler, a mysterious, Black Metal project that seems to have originated in Poland caught my eye.
Admittedly, it was the crazy script of their logo that pulled me in. Adding to this fascination was an online review that I read, essentially trashing the LP as non-musical conceit and a total waste of time. Pretty much anything that gets that kind of derision piques my interest.
Having listened to Cooking With Wolves, and really having enjoyed its Blackened sounds, Disaster Amnesiac must strongly disagree with the naysayer.
Starting off with a Cole Porter tune, All Of You, Wolfmangler sets the tone of the release with somber cello riffs that feature heavy, dragging bow techniques and gruffly whispered vocals. Google the lyrics to this 1954 song, and you may see how and why it fits within the sentiments of a Black Metal set.  It's a fascinating connecting of the pathos of Jazz with that of later forms. Disaster Amnesiac really loves the sound of what I believe is the cello being struck for percussive accenting, too.
Traditional Polish song Czerwony Pas is up next, and it sounds perfect for the type of treatment that Wolfmangler utilize. Its ascending chorus fits really well with the vocal technique as the relatively simple Folk melody chases behind it. Cool arco bends from the cello give feelings of unease; perhaps you're not welcome in this village, stranger.
Heading back across the Atlantic for track three, Wolfmangler takes on Hammerstein and Kern's 1927 Ol' Man River, where Disaster Amnesiac is hearing electric bass along with the cello. Originally a show tune, it becomes on Cooking With Wolves a powerful track of Doom Metal. Instead of seeing the languid Mississippi as I've listened, I've seen freezing ice floes in the dead of winter in some Eastern European backwater.  The cold Minimalist tones continue almost without pause on Beata Z. Albatrosa, which, like its predecessor, floats coldly upon the whispered vocals and sparse cello scrapes.
Disaster Amnesiac seriously wishes that the vocals on side A's last track, Compost With a Grudge, were more understandable to my ears. They are listed as being sourced from "various journalists". Given its title, it makes me wonder if these words are purely taken out of reviews of Wolfmangler's music. Are they pro or con? Supportive or dismissive? I'm leaning more on the side of the latter, but who knows? All that I know is that the vocals become pure texture to my ears, which is never a bad thing for this listener either.
Side two of Wolves gets its start with Zegar, as more mournful cello and bass guitar pairings entwine with what Disaster Amnesiac feels is the most gravelly, spitting vocal performance of the LP.  The vocals linger down into the bowel of the singer before being dragged, slowly, up and out into the air.
More traditional Polish tune-age is presented with Szwolezerowie, which brings back the percussive cello body knocks, huge mid-song spaces of vertigo-inducing Minimalism, and vocals almost...almost sung, as opposed to growled or burped, and great melodic feels that Wolfmangler seems to be really able to pull from their tradition. Surely, this is Black Metal success.
Coooking With Wolves concludes with another pass at Porter, thing time 1934's (You'd Be So) Easy to Love, listed without the parenthetical portion. After a pretty extended opening portion, in which acoustic bass and cello twine and twist around the melody, the vocals come in with whispered intimacy. This track feels pretty close to Jazz for this listener; Disaster Amnesiac can imagine similar versions of this standard coming from the haunted minds of Arthur Doyle or Don Ayler.
One thing that you've just got to admit in 2018 is that Metal can produce just as much Experimental Music as any other genres are capable of. Disaster Amnesiac finds bands such as Wolfmangler to be incredibly fascinating and enjoyable due to this reality. Cooking With Wolves, with its icy Minimalist take on the song form, filtered through Black Metal aesthetics, is a fine example of that type of action. Anyone know of live tracks from this group that are out there?

Sunday, February 11, 2018

Noise Eating Monsters-self titled; Muteant Sounds, 2017, digital release

Installment number two from Muteant Sounds has Disaster Amnesiac moving and grooving to the sounds of Noise Eating Monsters, a UK-based group of quite significant pedigree. The three members of this improvising trio have played with all manner of big name players, and one can most definitely hear the confidence on their self-titled release from last year.
Noise Eating Monsters starts off with the trio of guitarist Alex Ward, baritone sax player Tim Hill, and drummer Alex Thomas marking out their respective spaces on Crunch Time. What's fascinating to this listener is the controlled manner with which the trio builds up the tune's riff, each side of this triangle slowly stretching out for a few minutes' duration until such time as they collectively blast off into the sonic thickets of collective sound production. Ward seems to favor an minimal set up: if he's using pedals, I can't tell. Thomas has some seriously pinpoint accuracy in his grooves, and Hill's richly melodic bari sound supplies all kind of invention. Noise Eating Monster show themselves to be a powerful trio, right off the bat.
Rumble starts off with the group engaged in quick, chattering interaction before Thomas sets up a stomping tom tom pattern which is quickly grabbed by Ward on great rhythmic accompaniment. This groove sends Hill into a prolonged sax musing. Disaster Amnesiac keeps thinking about the original No Wave groups as I've jammed Rumble. The shredding guitar rhythms, paired with the big groove and reedy yelp keep pushing the perceptions to that thought. It's three times longer than Link Wray's version of Rumble, but equally greasy.
Ward opens up Aether with chilly guitar harmonics and glassy slides as the drums and sax comment somewhat sparingly. The Monsters dip down into some fairly dramatic, almost quiet interactions here before building up another monster free groove, driven by Ward's tight strumming and Thomas's exacting sticking. There's more of that great, clean six-string atop press rolls, both of which the push the sax into spiraling declamations.
Tim Hill takes the lead on Djin Din, coaxing ripped and warbled tones from his sax as high end piercings stab out from the guitar and the cymbals shimmer. One of the tags on Noise Eating Monsters page at Muteant Sounds is "garage Jazz", and Disaster Amnesiac can see why it is while listening to Djin Din.  The track has that kind of Punk Rock edge that brands it as something bubbling up from the non-mannered feels that are so much more easily accessed within those out of the way places. This may be the most traditionally heavy piece on this release. Noise Eating Monsters really blaze here as they slice and dice with intricate interactivity.
Album closer Monster Munch gets chewed up with more of that great, quickening riffing from Ward. He gets great low tones, too, as Thomas sticks out circular 16th note flurries and Hill preaches apocalyptic in the fury. Disaster Amnesiac hears the Thrash roots from the drummer's Bolt Thrower tenure on Munch as he pushes much air around his kit towards its conclusion.
Noise Eating Monsters, with their tight interactive improvising, stripped down aesthetics, and energetic sounds, have a great release under their belts with Noise Eating Monsters. It's meaty power trio music that swings like mad as it packs great big improvisational punches.

Monday, February 5, 2018

Arnold Young & Flavor Mixing Systems-Live at Westport Coffee House Theater; Muteant Sounds, 2017; digital release

Recently a missive came out at Muteant Sounds Facebook page: "...reviewers, we'll send you stuff to review...." Needless to say, it took about a day of consideration before Disaster Amnesiac was hitting them back via private message, offering my services. I've bought their product before, mind you, and most definitely will again. That said, it was an offer that I couldn't pass up. Muteant started me off with Arnold Young & Flavor Mixing Systems Live at Westport Coffee House Theater. Disaster Amnesiac has been listening. Here's some of what's been heard.
Made up of a sprawling three pieces which clock in at a little bit south of 45 minutes, Live at Westport starts off all jungle style with Bamboo Interlude Texas Driveway Holding Pattern. Wooden flutes chatter, flutter, and scrawl as all members of this quintet dive in together. Bass guitarist Henry Fording Eddins picks up the harmonics and summons in the sax of Russell "Fairweather" Thorpe and really cool bowed upright bass from John Nichols. Drummer leader  UN RA Arnold Young swiftly joins in the fray, and suddenly the listener it transported to the American mid-West as the group improvises in a manner that sounds quite AACM or BAG in its approach: lots of space within the interplay, marching rhythms, scattershot percussion leads and lots of clearly attentive listening. A bit deeper in, trumpeter Nick Howell coaxes great big gut bucket bleats from his horn as he mixes things up with Young's drumming commentary. Bamboo Interlude drifts into a Bluesy ending section, with all members going collective yahoo as they lose the holding pattern and set their ship out onto a deep, muddy river of composed-sounding jam.
The second piece, Outerlude Joshua, continues with said mid-Western feel as Eddins, Thorpe and Young languidly wrap their tones around each other. This relaxed feel allows for an opening through which everyone begins to collectively strut, with Young pushing all hands on deck and into some really satisfying playing, Howell and Thorpe doing a call-and-response dance as the basses clip and click in their lower registers. Joshua has the kind of spaciousness that has Disaster Amnesiac's head spinning in a gooey bliss, and as the individual solos commence, I'm all ears. Young's accompaniment is tight and tasty as he weaves with Eddins and Nichols. This trio warps and wraps their sounds in all manner of stop-start zones, and the horns respond accordingly, moving up, down, and around their registers as they make their statements. Eventually, things boil down to duo statements before the collective comes roaring back to walk things home by way of whispered goodbyes. Twenty four minutes of highly enjoyable intimacy. It's what you want from your Jazz, yes? Well, it's surely what Disaster Amnesiac wants from mine.
Live at Westport Coffee House Theater concludes with a short piece, FlavorMix Drums, in which Young gets his Funk ya ya's out as the basses push him and the horns shout their encouragement. He takes a short solo, stops abruptly, almost as if he realizes that he's suddenly alone, and that's it for the set. Don't buy the modesty, though, he's kicking ass as he stomps out his changes.
Fat, hip, and juicy, Arnold Young & Flavor Mixing Systems Live at Westport Coffee House Theater is a fine set of grooving, spacing, and all out enjoyable slice of Heartland Jazz, coming at the listener real and hot. Fans of the polyglot truth of the music will want to drink from this mixture.

Wednesday, January 17, 2018

Scarab-In Difference; Genetic Dead End Recordings, no date given (recorded in 2006)

One thing holds true in the music industry: Document Your Work.
Case in point: on New Year's Eve, while at KPFA studios in Berkeley, Disaster Amnesiac had an opportunity to sort through a pile of giveaway CDs in the lobby area. The cover of In Difference, by the group Scarab, immediately caught my eye, and I quickly filed it away into a jacket pocket, hopeful that its sounds would be as cool as its cover. Having been completely unfamiliar with the group, and having spun this disc a ton of times over the past couple of weeks, Disaster Amnesiac is certainly glad that Scarab made this document.
In Difference starts off with the powerful Your Wholeness, which is propelled by a great, staggering rhythm section beat and cutting high end notes from the guitar before dropping into thicker riffs and singer Melanie Skelchy's cool vocal style. Her sound on this tune, and throughout the CD, is a dramatic spoke/sung alto that's really emotive: one gets the sense that she means what she's singin'. Additionally, there's well placed bell percussion and what sounds like a Ramayana Monkey Chant within the mix here. It's chaotic and ordered simultaneously, the way all great Rock tunes ought to be, and as such, sets  the pace for this work.
Mixed right into its predecessor, Slipped keeps up the dramatic vibes more dirty riffs from the guitars, played by either M. Skelchy, Felipe Neira, or Russell Skelchy (they're all credited), more of the effective vocals, and real fine high-hat driven drumming before dipping into a keyboarded mid-section. This part provides great tension with its tom tom marching beat and sprayed lead guitar work as M. continues with her tales. Things lead back to more driving hat/cymbal pound to round this one out.
Scarab get Tex-Mex on track number three, FTA, a fusion of waltz and more driving Punk Rock, sung en Espanol by Felipe Neira or Russell Skelchy. This tune rips along with accordion sounds that I'm guessing come from the keyboard of Mark Jolly, and more great guitar/bass/drums blending; it's the style of this blend, familiar yet obviously worked up within their group dynamic, that Disaster Amnesiac is absolutely digging about this band.
Next up come the atmospherics of Yaadon, with more of Melanie on the mic. Said atmosphere comes from heavily strummed acoustic guitar and great percussive sounds of the metallic variety. Thick bassoon by Lisa Boggeri makes the mix even thicker. Yaadon has a kind of demented circus feel in its first half, before getting more reserved, with cool tremelo electric guitar to match the acoustic picking that lead back to the initial atmospheric oomph. It speaks volumes for the musical vision that Scarab had or, possibly, still has.
This Is My Crime revs on as track five, with more of that heavy waltz time, Spanish vocal demonstrativeness, and a nicely placed mid-song breakdown. It packs a lot of punch within its short duration, ripping away at what by now will surely be a nicely tattered perception of an attentive listener to In Difference.
That listener will get a bit of a break during West Wash, which commences with Jazz vibes, lonely trumpet calls, and fuzzed bass before dropping into an almost Garage Punk stomp. As Disaster Amnesiac has grooved to this one, I've imagined a group working tunes out amid engine grease and ashtrays. It has the kind of looseness within the drum arrangements that makes me want to stomp and shout and twist. Again, Scarab must be commended for their imaginative musical mash.
As opposed to the Tex-Mex of FTA, El Canoero strikes me as a bit more Angeleno, with hints of Cumbia and hard hitting single note guitar slices  within the tight rhythms of the percussion section. What a great, manic ending note from Skelchy, to boot. Her singing certainly does have impact!
More of that rhythmic acumen is on display on The Big Stick, a Punk Rock rager that is moved by fuzzy bass tones, sweet ride cymbal beats, even more ripping, circular guitar riffing and some tight arrangements. It winds down with keys that evoke Black Metal in my ears. Again, Disaster Amnesiac is really impressed with Scarab's blend of disparate musical elements into a coherent, singular whole band sound.
After a goofy little sketch about a cell phone, In Difference continues with Tango de la Barba. If one wants to find a fusion of Tango and Doom Metal, one may want to look here. The guitars distort deliciously, the drums beat heavily onto the aural concrete, the damn thing just kicks righteous ass in a way that has Disaster Amnesiac thinking of the beSST South Bay stuff from, say, 1985-1991 or so. It's dipped in the sweat of Dukowski, or seems that way to me.
The Black Metal returns with Done Talking, as icy keyboards and dour chanting some high lonesome twang. The male singer sounds exhausted and emotional; it's the kind of Emo that I can handle, though, especially on drives home from work, which have featured In Difference as their soundtrack quite a bit lately.
A swift, shaker-assisted D-Beat drum groove brings things to a close on Speed to Stop. As with other tunes on the disc, Scarab do an exemplary job of using the basic tools of Punk Rock as a launching off point for music styling of their own. There is nothing stock about the ways in which they shape their tones and rhythms, and for that Disaster Amnesiac salutes them. I can imagine Speed to Stop as a high energy live set closer, and I'm saddened that I have not seen this group live.
Cursory web searches have shown me little about Scarab, except for an Amazon listing that shows In Difference as having been released in 2016, not 2006. Are they still making music together? Have they been long-gone as a working band? Either way, Disaster Amnesiac is very glad that they documented these songs.
Can anyone let me know of their fate?

Wednesday, January 10, 2018

Amy Reed-(solo guitar); cassette, no label or date given, recorded 2014

A recent drive up to Gold Lion Arts in Sacramento for Rent Romus's 50th birthday party had Disaster Amnesiac perusing their richly supplied merch table; tons of releases from artists affiliated with that really neat, intimate space fill it up. I grabbed (solo guitar), a short cassette release from electric guitar extender Amy Reed. Being familiar with her work, I knew that it would be worth the few bucks of admission, happily provided right to her open hand.
Here's what this listener heard.
Given that there are no sides listed, and Disaster Amnesiac has flipped this cassette a bunch of times now, I'll just say that one of them starts of with combined scraping and sliding actions from Reed's guitar. These moves throw off all kinds of overtones from the amp. These tones then proceed to ear worm their way into the mind in delightfully abstract ways, albeit pretty aggressive, ways. As stated, being familiar with Amy's playing and gear, Disaster Amnesiac has enjoyed imagining the tubes of her small-ish amp being warmed to a nice, red glow from this primal six string shattering. After this initial attack, she proceeds into playing what sound somewhat like chords, which, being made up of her own extended techniques, duly  expose her unique, highly individualized instrumental language for the attentive listener. Imagine melodies coaxed from rusted barbed wire, amplified and buzzing out on the chaparral around Davis, and you'll be close.
The other side of (solo guitar) gets going with slightly less density, as Reed ruminates on a chord of two simple notes before dropping in additions that ripple outward from the initial statement. She keeps ramping things up from there, thickening the sonic palette with woozy bending tones and percussive string hits. It's all very disconcerting the most delightful of ways, and then, out of nowhere, the tape simply stops, mid-jam. Dang it, Reed, why'd you leave us hanging?
The good news on that note, at least for California residents, is that Amy Reed plays pretty regularly, especially in the Sacramento and Solano County areas. I believe that she makes the occasional foray out into places east as well.
Take note, guitar lovers: (solo guitar) most surely give your ears the kind of bristling that the instrument is so fine at providing.