Here’s a rather droney album from Stephen Christopher Stamper. As I’m learning from the liner notes, the idea for the record came about by chance – Stamper was in the process of digitising some old tapes of musical ideas from two decades ago when he accidentally sent the recording through his live set-up of digital filters and delays, transforming the source material into something new.
I presume that is what is going on during these six tracks, but it’s hard to tell what the source material for these drones was much of the time. You can hear distant echoed rustles and cymbal crashes sometimes, and alien slowed-down voices. Sometimes there are slowly swelling metallic drones which envelop everything, in other places it’s softer and more textural, a gentle grumble and crunch ambience with ghostly, indistinct details, foggy like a memory.
It’s a soothing and somewhat hypnotic record. I’ve listened to it twice in the process of writing this review because I keep zoning out. Relaxing.