THUNK!
Whoa! Did you hear that? That scared the heck out of me.
Oh — that was your jaw hitting the floor? You OK, homie? Yeah, that’s right, just pick it right up there. That was a nasty one. You gotta keep your reactions of astonishment in check, otherwise you’re liable to get yourself hurt. Although I’m not surprised in the least that your jaw did that thing (and seriously, how can you open your mouth that wide?), not with this new Bus Gas / Amulets release on Spring Break Tapes.
It’s … not really a split, you know. It’s actually two tapes, a double album of sorts, so does that make it a double split? I’m honestly not too sure what you want to call it.
But yeah: two for the price of… well, two! But when you see and hear this thing, you’ll get it. Bus Gas and Amulets, two PDX-based sound artists known for their experimental guitar work and vistas upon vistas of spacious sonics, finally come together in solidarity of a scene that we’ve only dreamed about this far away from the Pacific Northwest. (By “we” I mean “I” — my internet’s been down for a while.)
Immortal Yeller is Bus Gas’s contribution, and its heavily processed guitarscapes alternately flow like heavy metals (the Periodic Table kind) and float like gossamer strands, never fully one vibe, never fully the other, but fully, completely formed in singular space. You live in Immortal Yeller, inhabit it, immerse yourself in it, and drift beyond the confines of time because of it; because unlike in Old Yeller, no dogs get rabies and have to be put down in the end (uh, spoiler alert), and nobody dies at all, nobody even gets hurt.
Amulets goes heavy on the nostalgia trip (never a bad thing with Amulets), and on Mountains Past, memories are obscured by and fleetingly revealed through mist and cloud, the full picture of identity, the titular mountain that never quite emerges. How’s that for a metaphor? I guess that’s a pretty clear one come to think of it, but hey, if you were in my imagination right now, you’d want to climb this thing and get at its secrets. Amulets is the obscurer and the obscuree, but also the seeker and seekee, all within himself. You’ll figure out what I mean when you encounter Mountains Past — let it come to you, if you get my drift.
Mouth still agape, eh? Don’t blame you. You might want to close it, though, otherwise you’re going to get massive jaw cramps (let alone ligament damage) if you remain in that catatonic state of incredulity until September 21, which is when this thing comes out. Pre-order here, and if you’re in the Portland area, check out the release show September 28 at Beacon Sound with Marcus Fischer.
