Repetition with slight adjustment. Liz Meredith’s sophomore LP Repro (sPLeeNCoFFiN) steadily loops outward with tactile grace, not ignoring the rough edges of sound sources but embracing them, folding everything into the gentle sheets of tone. Steady as it goes … it’s not an accident that the record sleeve art is a visual representation of a sound file, its EQ peaks and valleys repeated — no, reproduced — in false color over the cover. You can see how the record is going to sound — unwavering patterns stretched over time.
Meredith is a true electroacoustic adventurer, utilizing viola, electronics, and tape loops to unfurl drones behind her as she progresses, as if she were alone on a slowly drifting boat and the sounds were the memories of her passing. Repro is a constant companion on her travels, emanating endlessly into the space where she’s been. And for me, who for some reason tends to synesthetize every note of every piece of music into some kind of visualization, it’s the perfect accompaniment for this daydream of the quietly swashbuckling Liz Meredith.
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