False Aralia

as in, a borgesian term of imprisonment in which you come to learn that stasis is an illusion. you attune and collect evidence. long shadows swing from the room’s sharpened edges, contracting and rotating with each passage of the sun, cumulatively tilting

a fascination flows down the chemical gradient. songbirds take flight from a colonial square in montevideo and fall as acorns in the foothills of the sierra nevada. the moon aches, holding a teeming darkness to the edges of the clearing as we make quick w

in the middle of it we instantiate false aralia: a series of recordings growing in all directions, cataloging the work of a group of north american collaborators centered around the studio practices of izaak schlossman (of aught, s transporter, loveshadow

‘selfsame’, the second 12” on false aralia, mirrors the structure of companion release ‘zero key’ in presenting an iterative exploration of versioning itself, unspooling a line of flight through four ascending rhythmic configurations. the objects at the c

the object appears at close range, triggering neuro-pop circuits that activate deep within a network of dubwise rhythmic traces. their glow begins to pool between the gaps in the wires as we zoom, in four jumps, from a the span of a familiar room to the d

a lacerated hunk of metal and circuitry- “Iri.gram” charred on the side- comes back round to us again, still icy from the dark reaches of its orbit as it fades across the sky like memories of a bad dream. it’s throwing signals in all directions at once, j