Gregg Kowalsky - IX
This album is called Tape Chants and you thought it wouldn't end up on this blog? Not a chance.
I almost feel like saying just that this is an album stuffed with lazy minimal textured tape drones and be done with it. There's really no point in beleaguering or persuading. If that phrase doesn't instantly make your nips hard, then there's no fucking way you're going to enjoy this album. The 20 minute centerpiece of organic inebriated soporific mind expansion is just gonna drive you fucking nuts with boredom. And the little minute long interludes are gonna pass right by you while you're thinking someone's breathing down your neck.
My concern numero uno however is where the fuck is the vinyl? CD only for a record like this? Come on Kranky, you're slacking.
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