Kinda space music in the indifferent sense, under an inhospitable punk sky. There Are No Endings synopsis: “The following are transcriptions of tape recordings made by Detective J. H. in October 2010, during his documentations of M.A.’s memories.”
That’s an easy square: between memory and space are each and everything. It’s either the teleporter or the fax machine that’s got a bad splice. Frayed in stellar wind, dreaming an aurora, collapsing collapsong.
Time-blasted Telstar with measures of inconsistent distances, arbitrary ratios, random speeds. Sounds of space picked up by an old cloth-covered speaker in an empty room. Atmosphere making a circuit with the listening post, abandoned, operator long returned to dust, settling onto walls of receivers and fragile vacuum tubes.
[Visit full site to view media]There Are No Endings by April Larson