Just published is an interview conducted with Jason Cabaniss at Tiny Mix Tapes, full of a summer selfie, music and thoughts on music.
Jason Cabaniss writes on Slight At That Contact for TMT Cerberus:
“…cold electroacoustic tones numb the senses with a wall of hushed distortion…One could listen to escape the darkness that surrounds us, but Slight at that Contact invites in the harsh tones we relegate to the background, providing a soothing balm to our modern malaise.”
complete review below:
Bill Meyer unpacks listening to Slight at the Contact for Dusted:
“The lures to look elsewhere give the music’s sensual qualities an extra dimension, like lumps of paint built up and out from a canvas. But the activity situated at the periphery raises doubts about where the real action lies. Maybe the surface is a curtain, something to be parted?”
Complete review below:
words from Jack Chuter at ATTN:Magazine…
“This is music in a larval state. Through a process of unfurling and awakening, Slight At That Contact exercises all of the phonetic and gestural behaviours that will later be refined into language…The album is finding its feet, condensing open drones into communicative shapes, refining gurgles of distortion into phonemes, sharpening the slurs of sibilance into pointed patterns of musical meaning.”
full review below:
now at Midheaven:
Brooklyn-based multi-instrumentalist Billy Gomberg’s past work has released by labels such as and/OAR, Digitalis and Sunshine Ltd. In addition to his solo output, he operates in a variety of collaborative settings (including Fraufraulein, a duo with fellow label alum Anne Guthrie) and, over the course of the last five years, has carved out a niche for himself at the crossroads of electro-acoustic improvisation, ambient, and minimalist music.
The beguiling Slight at that Contact brings to mind both the bucolic electronica of Microstoria and the expansive arrangements of Mirages-era Tim Hecker. “Medial” opens the record with a sea of vaporous, blooming tones set against an array of delicately percussive clicks and cuts. “Acute” further develops this, conjuring the cinematic atmosphere of a train station in a ruined, futuristic metropolis. Over the course of eight understated but nuanced compositions, Gomberg cultivates an intoxicating aural topography, a deep, expressive collection that offers considerable rewards to the attentive listener.