More evocative drone weight from Fossil Aerosol Mining Project, created in 2014 but with audio material drawn from 70’s VHS tapes of a German film and an 80’s field recording from ‘a decaying theatre’. The Recounting Of Night Time has just the kind of warped, faded dusty feel that you’d anticipate from that origin story: get lost in it. Courtesy of The Helen Scarsdale Agency and Afterdays Media.
CD £12.49 ADM022
CD on Afterdays Media / The Helen Scarsdale Agency.
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- The Recounting Of Night Time by Fossil Aerosol Mining Project
Fossil Aerosol Mining Project are an enigmatic entity to say the least - their sound equally as mysterious as its creators. In many ways, they are sonic archaeologists, but where the conventional role of the archaeologist is to reassemble elements of the past to confirm facts or achieve historical clarity, Fossil Aerosol Mining Project smudge, smear and blur their fragments of found sound as though re-imagining or re-writing that history into something resembling distorted or imagined memories.
Their technique of collage reminds me of Brion Gysin and William Burroughs's experiments with their cut-up technique. In the case of Fossil Aerosol Mining Project, it’s not language/words that are the virus but remnants of scattered sonic detritus which they seek out and utilize to subvert history. Whether this is their motive, who knows. I try not to read too much about intent and just absorb the sound on face value. And what a unique sound it is they conjure. They’ve been fairly prolific in this domain since 1986, and everything I’ve had to the pleasure to hear from them is nothing short of mesmerising and transportive. Forget your average “hauntological, found sound ambient productions”. These guys are the real deal.
‘The Recounting Of Night Time’ will take you from the comfort of your own home and into the wilderness and beyond into a decrepit, dank cinema where the dusty old projector is barely functional. The film that’s rolling has been beautifully decomposed by time. Spectral figures and objects are barely distinguishable on the screen amongst the spores of mold and mildew, the corroded, brittle and cracked 16mm film bubbles and buckles. It's the sonification of the actual texture and grain of the film. On ‘Tsints Number 4’ it’s as though we can hear the struggling mechanics of the projector and the film looping and fluttering as it reaches the end before the zombie projectionist switches to the next roll of film.
Generally speaking, listening to this disc is like unearthing a partly destroyed time capsule - history is immortalised yet distorted. The beauty lies in the decay that results from the weathering of nature and time, and the imaginative collage/reconstruction of the artists, which blurs fact and fiction - taking old disparate elements and constructing something new that retains traces of its origins. Highly recommended.
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