fraufraulein ties two Facts together (digital, Erstwhile/amplify 2020, 2020)

Invited by Jon Abbey of Erstwhile Records to participate in his Amplify:Quarantine online festival of releases, Anne & I present two briefs pieces in ties two Facts together.

a note from Jon:

“4/14/20, 53rd piece/s.

for obvious reasons, almost every piece so far has been solo, with the only exception the stellar long distance English blind overdub duo, check that one out if you missed it.

so here we have the first live duo entry, from fraufraulein, the longtime couple of Billy Gomberg and Anne Guthrie. both are well established on their own, but their duo is in its own area, comfortable yet challenging, relaxing yet unpredictable, always a pleasure to see/hear perform or to listen to their recordings. this is their first released work as a duo since moving from Brooklyn to SF in 2018, and I can’t wait to dive in.

very happy to present “ties two Facts together”, two pieces recorded on March 31 and April 7.”

and a note from us:

“words: waiting for the restaurant downstairs to close (takeout only means they now shut down the exhaust fan at 9pm instead of 10pm), yet also staying quiet ourselves so as not to wake the kid, leading to small and simple sounds. clearer moments from a few nights this week”

Recent mentions in Dusted!

My recent tape Beginners and digital collection of live recordings both get some words out of Bill Meyer at Dusted:

Billy Gomberg is no beginner. He’s been releasing music of his own and with Fraufraulein, a duo with Anne Guthrie, for nearly a decade. And the sound sources he uses on this tape are familiar ones — electric bass, urban field recordings, synthesizer and hand-manipulated objects. Even so, it feels like something new is happening here. Gomberg’s music has often seemed to stretch away from the listener, luring you to follow it through virtual expanses of space and time. Now it seems closer at hand, the sounds like sunning fish just under a pond’s surface. They’re simultaneously more recognizable and more processed that what he’s played in the past, creating a discreet reality that never quite loses its mystery no matter how often you play it.  (link)

In his summary of his Voting Rights Day shopping on Bandcamp, Bill found my bundle of live sets to defy his “not quite a physical object” rule:

Well, there go the rules. This DL-only compilation of concert performances by one of my favorite ambient recording artists of recent years shows that the carefully wrought, ultra-deep atmosphere of his recent cassettes is no fluke. (link)

 

We Need No Swords on Beginners

We Need No Swords comes back with a take on Beginners:

‘Beginners’, from San Francisco’s Billy Gomberg, is prime Dinzu. An artist who draws from different experimental and underground musicking practices – ambient drift, electroacoustic composition, improvisation, and so on – Gomberg has amassed a pretty decent-sized discography over the past few years, with releases on Another Timbre, Strange Rules, Marginal Frequency and others (the muted clonks of 2016’s ‘Slight At That Contact’ are a favourite round these parts). This is Gomberg’s second outing for Dinzu Artefacts, following on from last year’s ‘Transition’, and it amps up the fusty, fuzzy eerieness this time around to produce a creeped-out soundscape that’s up there with Jandek’s ‘Ready For The House’ in terms of skin-prickling spookiness. Here, muffled clunks and bangs merge with queasy, sustained tones, with ambient hum and tape hiss providing an uncomfortable translucent sheen. Everything sounds disconcertingly out of phase, as if bleeding through from a parallel dimension, the everyday life of ghosts captured accidentally by a hapless field recorder. EVP via the Tascam DR-40. Sonic ectoplasm in the Zoom. Most eye-popping of all is ‘Seeing The Sequel First’, where a plangent chorus of clangs plays out against a backdrop of subdued growls and murmurs, like some wraith gamelan playing lullabies for the beasts of the abyss.

Beginners in Tiny Mix Tapes

A walk through the zone from Jason C at Tiny Mix Tapes:

Where Slight At That Contact was the crumbling, desolate urban hellscape right before your eyes, Beginners is what remains: darkness, stretches of silence, lingering pulses of the grid, a sonic mirage of hope beyond the bleakness. It may all be a dream, a blurred memory we experience in real time, or on repeat, with a haunting, inescapable sense of déjà vu.

read here for the full writeup or click through below:

Continue reading