Possible Motive HHV Records 8 Items

Josh Burke is a guitarist/keyboardist/programmer from Chicago, USA, who specialises in a music that could, perhaps, best be described as an amalgamation of drone, kosmische and ambient, all with a distinctly euphoric flavour, as though these sounds were channelled rather than thoroughly composed.
He has over 30 solo releases to his name as well as splits with Jeffrey Astin (of Xiphiidae), Spirals and Body Morph, and also - like most of his peers - operates under several additional aliases - Ocean Diamond, Futuresport, The Masque, Silk Fountain, 56K, Sky Limousine and Nehal Shah - as well as ensemble and collaborative projects including Bermuda Link, Cartoon Drips, White Prism, Practical Applications Of The Chaossphere, Starfox, Camp Crystal Lake and Holographic Communications Of The Third Sky.

There was a time when a person would pick up an instrument to compose yet another song for a loved one. A sad figure humming into a microphone, pronouncing the most basic words and forms to convey quantity, quality, fact, statistics and similar sounds describing pain, loss and sorrow. The human brain would perceive the melody sad and perhaps within herself feel a sense of melancholia.

In another parallel world a new composition would then appear. But not one composed on a wooden built instrument, no, sounds made into structures and tables that would assists the listener into providing an additional context and meaning through digital synthesis and quantised harmonies. But who could really tell if these sounds were real? Or where they just sounds impersonating an idea of something?

Rhyme nor reason is as abstract in its shapes and ideas as it is concrete and elegant in its narratives. A carefully crafted wooden cabinet with an over-whelming amount of different drawers and hidden compartments. Each box storing blissful arrangement; a fluorescent stone, a paper note saying something about lunch, some collectible objects, a forgotten token or perhaps an autograph, all so very vibrant and joyful for its possessor.

Deleted files stored on rapidly rotating platters coated with magnetic material. Small, easy to loose SSD memory cards of recorded corrupt files and digital artefacts. Software engineered compositions trying to grasp the shared belief of an upcoming future, vivid and uncertain; birds, waters and long lost recollections. A release unconcerned with the literal depiction of things from the visible world. At least not for now.

The sound mutations of Estonian based museum security guard Mihkel Kleis, aka Ratkiller, has found its nest on the upcoming oeuvre "Leather Squeaking Softly". A unique sound composition and rare glimpse into visions of being stuck in a whirlpool of forgotten debris and plastic remains, discarded non-recyclable objects and broken hi-fi equipment. An audio memorandum rendering irregular sound compositions of desolated dumping grounds, faulty drum machines and field recordings of distorted memories. It's as if your whole life was a theme park built on a hazardous waste site. Leather Squeaking Softly consists of two different Movements extending a bit over 33 minutes. The cassette release is due in April on Possible Motive and comes as a pro dubbed C-30 coloured cassette with 4–colour pro printed inlays.

Substance, the second album by producer Moisture, sets out to deliver an immersive tech-noir fantasy of emotional and physical deconstruction. Inspired in part by William S. Burroughs 1959 novel Naked Lunch, the conceptual narrative of the album follows a humanoid subject through an urban landscape and the exploration of its depravations.
Sampling and filtering sounds from other music, movies and own field recordings, the tapestry of Substance is a three-dimensional world of hard industrial spaces and fluid organic matter. While its conception is rooted equally in literature and film as well as music, one can draw comparisons in particular to Barry Adamsons 1989 album Moss Side Story, in that it also works as a chronological narrative; the tracks aligning to make a world of its own.
And while Adamson was aiming to create an imaginary soundscape of his native Manchester, the geography of Substance is based on the city of Malmö. Using field recordings from its city streets, the album paints a rain soaked, neon-clad portrait of the city's hedonistic nightlife.
On the opening "The Marketplace" we are teleported to Bergsgatan at night (the track title a subtle nod towards Eden Ahbez 1960 song of the same name).
This introduction is similar in line with the experience Burroughs once had in 1957 upon entering Malmö for the first and only time, which he details briefly in Naked Lunch: "averted eyes and the cemetery in the middle of town (every town in Sweden seems to be built around a cemetery), and nothing to do in the afternoon (...)"
This image of Malmö portrayed with dread and loathing holds a longstanding narrative tradition over the cultural geography of the town. Yet it is often paired with an image of great promise and bohemian splendor, seemingly a paradox but often perversely intertwined. This duality has always been a vital mindset in the underground music scene of the town and its illegal after hours clubs. Substance is a work steeped in the grayscale prism of techno and its post-industrial fetischism. Yet in picking it apart, one can find elements of everything from post-punk, drum & bass, trip hop and new age.
The theme of depravation that soaks through Burroughs Naked Lunch seems oddly befitting to this side of Malmö (one wonders what the author would have made of it had he stayed longer) Through rhythmic excursions and the exploration of repetition, the tracks of Substance are arranged to convey this self-destructive longing for depravity. Michel Foucault's ideas on limit experiences serves as context for this peculiar form of endeavour, as he puts it: "the point of life which lies as close as possible to the impossibility of living, which lies at the limit or the extreme".

In the haunting realm of "Reaching Intestinal Scenery," each track invites us into a surreal landscape where the stench of rotten meat intertwines with beauty, much like a romantic dinner gone wrong—candle wax pooling on a bloodstained table littered with forgotten dreams. The essence of primordial life bubbles forth, hinting at raw potential and neglected aspirations, as if your worst neighbor decided to throw a surprise party for regret.

As we journey through this mold-infested hallway, we enter a room through a metal door—a chaotic tapestry of debris. Shattered tiles, crumpled newspapers, and discarded clothing mingle with the remnants of long-forgotten recording equipment. A foul odor permeates the space, a nauseating blend of decay and neglect, signaling the presence of rot and filth accumulated over the years. Piles of refuse line the sides of the room, some spilling into the path, forcing you to navigate carefully to avoid stepping on broken glass or sharp metal shards. Ripped curtains dangle haphazardly from the windows, their once-vibrant colors now faded to a dull, sickly hue, allowing only slivers of light to pierce the gloom.

As the atmosphere darkens, mutated noises and occasional scuffles from unknown places linger like a bad perfume at an awkward family reunion, reminding us of past lovers who still haunt us. In this twilight embrace, where the eerie meets the ethereal, we come to understand that endings are not finality but whispers guiding us toward bizarre chapters yet to unfold.

"Reaching Intestinal Scenery," the newly released work from Estonian artist Mihkel Kleis, aka Ratkiller, paints evocative imagery where each track deforms and melds into a near-amorphous mass, mirroring the bizarre and unsettling undertones of our own lives. It leaves us pondering the strange connections that bind us in this surreal tapestry of existence.

Four new and reworked songs from Wave Temples delivered on a beautifully exotic 7".

Further into the jungle, the submissive touch of the deepest thicket. Of beachside oracles and openers to the path of penetrating rituals of night. Moist treasure; Exotic dream.

The luxurious threads of your recent tailored finds are a conspicuous reminder of the sins you can't outrun. Paradise, an elusive escape from the mundane bourgeois existence you yearned to shed, remains an elusive mirage.

Your opulent den, a sanctuary for the modern-day clone, is a testament to the tainted wealth accumulated by a first world that thrives on the exploitation of the so-called others.

Amidst the midnight downtown haze enchanting melodies of smart phones and social media, the allure of fame and recognition hangs like a heavy cloud, casting a shadow over the once-rosy promises of success. Your most recent purchase, which you once cherished, now appear tarnished, their value distorted by harsh realities.

Languor is the captivating and exhilarating new album by Sweden based electronic music duo Nothing But Heart. Languor depicts a suspenseful and honest collection of sonic creations. For fans of Bohren & Der Club of Gore, Com Truise and William Basinski, as well as the foreshadowing visions of Kathryn Bigelow, David Lynch, and Andrei Tarkovskij.

A pungent ooze emanates from the subway. As a sticky drum machine sequence rolls out like thick dark fog, ice cold synth swirls rise from the depths.
Since the debut album Europe By Night, one of the main references associated with Henrik Stelzer and his Metro Riders project has been that of cinema, and particularly the European genre films of the 1980s. With its seedy subject matters manifesting both in visual style and music, the vibe of that era has crystallized over time. Passed down to us from deteriorating video cassettes, it became an invaluable key to decoding our present day reality.
And this is true for this album as well; Stelzer does not hide the fact that he builds heavily on that vibe; referencing it through track titles and utilizing a particular recording setup consisting of a Fostex and a reel to reel in order to achieve and recreate the feeling of those soundtracks — as heard on magnetic tape rather than vinyl.
The motion picture soundtrack as an arbitrary genre definition becomes, in the hands of Stelzer, a pair of X-ray specs for him to envision a kind of music that deals in grains and contrasts rath- er than hooks and choruses. And like Roddy Piper in John Carpenter's 1988 film They Live, he hands those glasses over for us to see the true face of our times.
On Lost In Reality Metro Riders maps out an emotional geography of the cities at night, wherein the cinematic haze becomes a tool by which we can view the cities with new eyes. Not steering away from the darker alleys nor the harsh realities of modern day politics masquerading as progress. Yet escapism, in the end, seems the only viable option. But not as an endgame, but rather a stepping stone for building a new vocabulary for an utopian language.