A while ago I made a tape which was a postal release only. I sent it out to friends. It never arrived at the staalplaat shop nor did I try to sell it.
Now I do.
I wrote about it with these words, that, of course, are still valid:
“… But that was after I worked on Don’t Talk at the Disco. It took me a month. Every one or two days break was deliberate, a technique developed when I was still writing: stop in the middle of a flow and allow the next or over-next day to bring a little change, or a new idea.
The piece takes thirty minutes. I have found six titles to define the separate episodes. I used commercial cassettes and my own recordings. Preslav gave me his blue Tascam fourtrack, and that’s where I discovered how he got that epic, melancholy stadium rock sound; so I used it as well. I kept the mistakes, because I start to get a big aversion against the supposedly perfect crisp sounds and images delivered upon us by means of the latest digital techniques. I treated or mistreated my several Walkman to get the hickuping, stuttering sequences so typical for the medium. You get hiss, that changes into wind, changes into the rolling sea.
And that’s not all. There are true pop songs on it. Unexpectedly so, but it is the way I liked to cut and loop some of the tapes. Once it is finished, you get it out and play the other side…”
Back then every B-side was different, a kind of impression of my stay in Calabria at that certain time.
Now I have finally found a reason to complete the tape. Brandstifter from Mainz invited me to release a work together with him. I started working. In my possession since a long time is the tape with the complete speech by the West German president Richard von Weiszäcker that he held in front of the parliament to commemorate the 40th anniversary of the end of the second world war. This speech is referred to as ‘historic.’ I always wanted to use bits of this speech, because the quality of diction, the spaciousness are exquisite.
From my stay in Ravenna I took home an audiozine, published in the beginning of the century. On it were some persons who talked about Elvis. Here, that’s it. The rest of the work was to bring these two together and see how commercial sounds and my recordings could turn this into one composition. My only criterion was to not get bored, and to like the result of my sound cooking.
You tell me.
A typical visit out in the country, visits from friends, friendly dogs, a woman on a tractor mowing the weeds next to her vineyard. Mountains in a view, the golden light of sunset and somewhere between the fruit tree plantations a gas driven engine to send the sound of an explosion. Talks, drinks, great soup.
But Matteo who together with Michele published my book ‘Stop the Music,’ is also a person who buys this little recorder. You can order the book directly from him. The little Sanyo is not for sale.
Somewhere near Ravenna, a small river called Montone, acres filled with mutilated fruit trees, wind and clouds and big farm houses, some of them abandoned, some of them family houses, one of them Casa del Vento, home, among other things to Lonktaar.
Masquerade is a digital release published on the naucleshg label, curated by Antony Maubert. I recorded it in one go at the studio of Enea Tomei in Rome.
The digital file ia available for 5€.
Rome has a special place in my new Italian existence. Maybe one day I will write about my experiences. I am pretty sure that my Roman days determined the overall atmosphere of Masquerade.