When I had the dubious pleasure of living as a lodger an erstwhile landlady used to often say that the music which emanted from my room reminded her of a lighthouse at night, its beam scanning out across calm waves. I think Tim Hecker’s Mirages album was the one that rocked her boat most. But that reported image returns to my mind now, listening to this, the latest Bee Mask tape. Both sides seem to contain the same cyclic lilt, a long slow arc which inevitably turns back on itself like the orbit of a satellite, stuck in a self-determining cycle. Which is not to say the music is boring or even really repetitive, within the overarching lasso of lengthy phase, tones rise and fall, all obediently drifting to the fore as the boomerang passes close by and sinking to the back as it disappears from view. Only the subsonics occasionally stray from this lapping motion, pulsing at their own, related rhythm. Another fairly immaculate slice of glassine ebb from Bee Mask.
If Madak really does control his circuits with little LEDs and torches then I am reminded of a David Behrman piece Runthroughs performed by the Sonic Arts Union in its heyday. The spatialisation of the sounds was controlled by two players using photosensitive circuits. By swirling their torches over the control panel, the outputs could be made to pan in identical fashion. I don’t suppose I’m ever likely to see a Bee Mask gig, but I’d love to hear this music being flung around my head.
deception island
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