Last day-trip with Acid Glasses ended in a mess of environmentally unsafe waves, and now these shades get even more disorienting indoors; the walls aren’t even flat at this point, the words are coming out all wrong, and the whole peripheral tint’s been covered in lightning bolts and a parental advisory sticker:
Acid Glasses | Linen Wall
Len | Steal My Sunshine (Acid Glasses Remix)
“Linen Wall” is the latest from AG (while the latter just felt right).
King Krule, everyone’s favorite British boy wonder (who plays three sold out NYC shows this week), stopped by Rubber Tracks studio for a short but sweet set, organized by The FADER—expect some video from them; here’s how it went in stills:
Previously heard “SUMMER YOU” flashed back to a lake scene in full color. Now with a collection to contextually place it in, we learn that those levels were fleeting. Relay, Gabriel White’s debut album, goes in and out of saturation, as though seasonal, like those instances where everything—the gold of an afternoon, or the rose of her smile—seems brighter than normal. Note the contrast when jumping from its gray starting line, and landing at its vibrant finish:
Gabriel White | How Are You
Gabriel White | Over Time In Time
Get the entire gradient (as of today) through AMDISCS.
Like a distant cousin to the circular window previously opened for UK’s Birkwin Jersey, “Orinoco” revels in beat symmetry, sputtering from forest to full kaleidoscoped cycle.
It belongs to a seven track EP called Old Hands arriving January 13th via Absent Fever. This post is in balance with Decoder, the freshly reconceptualized GOTC, and cultural magazine—learn more (and pledge support for its debut issue) at Kickstarter.
One late night in a performance space last fall, RxRy and Nathaniel mentally and physically synced from opposite sides of the room. That connection has grown in recent months; through shadow-chats and file shares they’ve opened up a limitless thread of possibility, and what breaths here is likely not the last of ideas to materialize. The Birth of Medusa, which works in both the mythological and biological senses of the term, is an audio/visual poem, a written piece scored and rendered into movement. All footage was shot using an iPhone in Chicago’s Shedd Aquarium, and all sound was designed by Rx specifically for the text. And with that said, the rest is best absorbed above.
