Brian Olewnick on Heavy Objects

A rare missive from Brian Olewnick’s woodsy retreat:

How nice to have some new Fraufraulein! Anne Guthrie (French horn, objects) and Billy Gomberg (electronics, bass guitar) have a special way of creating all-but-casual soundscapes from found materials and horn snippets, often subtly underlined by Gomberg’s essentially melodic take on things. There’s a relaxed feeling, walking speed, but extremely observant, choosing sounds with a balance of care and nonchalance. There’s a sense of a pure field recording that happens to contain musical elements as part of the environment, as when the (I think) small horn burps bubble to the surface about 12 minutes into ‘One of Us Always Tells the Truth’; very engaging. Firecrackers in the street begin side two, ‘When We Evaporate’, sharing space with muffled bass plucks and soft, wistful horn lines, all soon blending with the general, urban ambience outside the window. More small explosions, as though recorded on July 4th or Chinese New Year, airplanes passing, distant radio. Toward the end, the bass becomes a bit more insistent, even establishing a rhythm, Guthrie’s horn wafting atop, a very fine coalescing of all that’s transpired before. Excellent work all around, a real treasure. More, please.

Heavy Objects in Dusted…

the word from Bill Meyer at Dusted:

Who plays the music and who deals with the baby? New-ish parents Billy Gomberg and Anne Guthrie had to deal with that question as they made Heavy Objects, and that circumstance offers one explanation for the tape’s restraint. While a French horn, bass guitar, digital recorder and synthesizer were all hefted during the recording session, it certainly doesn’t sound like anything heavy was played, let alone dropped. Instead distant environmental recordings negotiate for space with other recordings of hushed in-home activity — the filling of a glass or papers being moved around a table. The musical instruments are heard one note at a time, almost reluctantly, as though whoever was playing them was trying hard not to wake the kid. The result is music well suited to quiet headset listening. Pop the tape in your Walkman or the files in your phone and play them almost subliminally while you shop or stroll, and savor the moment when you can’t tell if the radio or car horn you’re hearing comes from the music or the space you’re traversing. But if you’re easily frightened, you might want to audition side two once in the safety of your home first; I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but there is one sound on it that you’d much rather hear coming from a recording than the street.

Transition in Cassette Gods

Amidst an elaborate staging, Ryan Masteller offers this:

Transition is an album that lives up to its name, a drifting, evolutionary signpost marking the passage of time. As befits a Dinzu release, field recordings are processed through effects and electronics, the sounds taking on entirely new identities as they’re filtered through Gomberg’s vision of glacial motion. The tracks are untitled, marked only by the amount of time they fill. And fill they do, as you must pay careful attention to the compositions, allowing them to consume your focus so that you don’t miss a single detail. You could call them drones, but that would be selling them short – there’s distinctive movement in the works, distinctive tones, unearthed emotional stimuli whose raw receptors remind you of events in your life that you’d forgotten. Wisps of memory once again become tactile. You remember who you once were.

Full review at Cassette Gods:
http://cassettegods.blogspot.com/2017/05/billy-gomberg-transition-c30-dinzu.html

Transition in The Quietus

Good company in Tristan Bath’s Spool’s Out column at The Quietus:

In comparison, Brooklynite sound artist Billy Gomberg’s offering on Transition is a relatively peaceful affair. Deeper listening reveals layers of hidden meaning, and in my own case, no small amount of terror. This is incredibly abstract music though, and one wonders how much the translucent, vaporous meaning is in the ear of the beholder. The single piece on side A seems at first to blend together various field recordings to create a strange new, third location. Distant industrial clatter or public transport noises soon turn out to be Gomberg’s own tones summoned from goodness knows where, and the collage then segues from place to place as it travels onwards. The two shorter pieces on side B are no less mysterious. Whether the overall effect is peaceful of terrifying is perhaps up to you to decide – either way it’s an absorbing trip to take.

http://thequietus.com/articles/22079-dale-cornish-dinzu-artefacts-yearning-kru-eiderdown-records-me-claudius-cassette-tape-review