• Free shipping nationwide for purchases of 11,000 yen or more
HEXA // Material Interstice LP

HEXA // Material Interstice LP

€18,95
  • Availability:

Australian acoustic writerA record released by Lawrence English and Jamie Stewart on the duo HEXA in October 2021 on Lawrence's label Room 10.

Includes 8 deep low-end drones-dark ambient songs.The following is an explanation by Lawrence.

 

 "When I was a kid, I had two dreams over and over, both of which were about the house I lived in. The house is high, but below it is an almost unfinished Boro house. The back of the house was like a maze of small rooms, concrete pits, collections of building materials, plumbing, leftover furniture, etc., along with a bed of earthen sand-hard soil. It was a space.

The first dream I had was early in the morning when a burning bird fell from the sky from the kitchen window.The bird was an evolution of the tabernacle's candles, symbolized by the twisted shape of the eternal flame, with its wings moving.I have never seen this dream since I became an adult, but I can remember it vividly.

The second dream has recently emerged, albeit a distant reference to the specific intensity that I experienced when I was young.This dream was buried deep in the maze-like unfinished function that underlies my house.Dreams usually start when I'm playing on the moon's soil, and gradually I hear sounds through a large concrete hole in the center of the space.The sound gets louder and louder, and eventually I have to go check it out.I was called by the sound.There is no other way to express it.Whenever I look into the pits, there's some kind of hatch, often similar to the pressure doors you see in submarine movies, and the sound comes from underneath that hatch.The sound was deep, small, buried, pounding, hammer-like, as if listening to bass music from a car parked on a block.

Inevitably, when the hatch was twisted, it became a mechanical world reminiscent of the internal psychology of what is now called "Tetsujin Tetsuo."Mostly duo tones, shaded in dark gray and black, with an oily, moist, rich atmosphere.When I entered the hatch and got off the ladder (there was always a ladder), the pressure of the sound increased, and it was as if the whole body was swallowed by this monolithic underground machine.It wasn't revealed what the machine did or what it was, but what made me feel was that something beyond my usual understanding trained day and night. It was to give infinite power and command beyond my understanding.

I'm surprised that the dream has reappeared before me over the past year.Perhaps it's the result of the quietness of the world and the ability to listen to the most subtle acoustic changes when we sleep.The remote sounds that are normally hidden in the hustle and bustle of the night view of the city enter into my dreams and provoke some sort of speculative consciousness.This post-hypnotic condition prompted me to return to the place I dreamed of when I was a kid, but at the same time I wasn't allowed full access to that place, which was rather reluctant.Even if you have a hatch, you can't enter in the same way, and you can't unlock it in the same way.

When I told Jamie this dream last year, he also said his sleep pattern was unstable.This has led us to think about the recent shift in world mechanics towards the emergence of nature.Industrial products, machinery, and other acoustic by-products of human (or non-human) labor are reaching out of the quiet environmental noise floor.What is normally immersed in the (sub) urban scape is unearthed, and at this special moment it becomes an external force that bothers us from a distance and unleashes internal uncertainties.This music is a transposition of this experience, written for the moment when consciousness is definitely inferred. "

Labels and other works Click here for more information. ///Click here to see more Room40 releases available at Tobira.

----------------------------

Matte concentrate monochrome printed sleeve, printed inner sleeve plus 32 page artist book containing text and collages from Jamie Stewart and Lawrence English

~

Text from Lawrence English:

" When I was child I had two recurring dreams.Both these dreams were tethered to the house I lived in.It was a rambling home which was high set but underneath it was largely unfinished.The underside of the house was a labyrinth of small rooms, concrete pits and a collection of building materials, piping and leftover furniture sat alongside beds of dirt that had a consistency of lunar dust.

The first recurring dream was of a burning bird, falling from the sky past the kitchen window in the early hours of the morning. The bird I'm pretty sure was some devolved version of a tabernacle candle, that shape of the twisted eternal flame often symbolised with twitching wings. This dream has never returned to me as an adult, though I can vividly recount it.

The second dream has recently emerged, albeit a distant hazy reference to the tangible intensity that I experienced when I was younger. This dream was one buried deep within the labyrinthian, unfinished features that existed under my house. the lunar dirt and gradually a sound would emerge from a large concrete pit that was in the center of the space. The sound would get louder and eventually I would have It called me in, there's no other way to describe it. As I looked into the pit, there was always some kind of hatch, often resembling a pressure door, the type you might see in a Submarine film, It was also a throbbing, hammering type of sound, deeply diminished and buried, like hearing bass music from a car parked up the block.

Inevitably, I would twist open the hatch and inside it was a mechanical world that today brings to mind the interior psyche of Tetsuo The Iron Man. It was dark, almost entirely duotone, shaded in heavy gray and black, and wet with a thick, humid, oil like moisture. As I climbed into the hatch and down the ladder (there was always a ladder too) the pressure of the sound increased and it was as if my whole body was being consumed by this monolithic subterranean machine. I never got to understand what the machine did, or if in fact it was a machine at all, the system was never revealed, but what I was made to feel was that there was something beyond my usual understanding that forged away night and day and was infinitely more powerful and commanding than I ever could comprehend.

I was surprised that, over the past year, this dream has returned to me. Perhaps it's a result of the general quietening of the world and that innate way our ears can open up to even the most subtle acoustic shifts when we are sleeping. Remote sounds, usually hidden in the din of the urban nightscape, were filtering into my dreams and triggering some kind of speculative consciousness. This post-hypnogogic state ushered in a return to that imagined place from my childhood dreams, but simultaneously I was never allowed full I could not enter it in the same way, even if the hatch was there, I was not the same mind and could not unlock it in the same way.

Last year, I mentioned this dream to Jamie, and he too reported unsteady sleep patterns. This got us to thinking about how the dynamics of the world have recently positioned towards the emergence of the natural world. shadow; those ongoing industrial, mechanical and other acoustic by-products of human (and unhuman) labour reach out from the hushed ambient noise floor. What is usually soaked up in the everyday (sub) urbanscape has been exhumed and in these particular moments it haunts us from a distance, an exterior force that unlocks interior uncertainties. This music is transposed of this experience and is written for those moments were consciousness is arguably speculative.
 "

Artist: HEXA

Label: Room40

+ -

Australian acoustic writerA record released by Lawrence English and Jamie Stewart on the duo HEXA in October 2021 on Lawrence's label Room 10.

Includes 8 deep low-end drones-dark ambient songs.The following is an explanation by Lawrence.

 

 "When I was a kid, I had two dreams over and over, both of which were about the house I lived in. The house is high, but below it is an almost unfinished Boro house. The back of the house was like a maze of small rooms, concrete pits, collections of building materials, plumbing, leftover furniture, etc., along with a bed of earthen sand-hard soil. It was a space.

The first dream I had was early in the morning when a burning bird fell from the sky from the kitchen window.The bird was an evolution of the tabernacle's candles, symbolized by the twisted shape of the eternal flame, with its wings moving.I have never seen this dream since I became an adult, but I can remember it vividly.

The second dream has recently emerged, albeit a distant reference to the specific intensity that I experienced when I was young.This dream was buried deep in the maze-like unfinished function that underlies my house.Dreams usually start when I'm playing on the moon's soil, and gradually I hear sounds through a large concrete hole in the center of the space.The sound gets louder and louder, and eventually I have to go check it out.I was called by the sound.There is no other way to express it.Whenever I look into the pits, there's some kind of hatch, often similar to the pressure doors you see in submarine movies, and the sound comes from underneath that hatch.The sound was deep, small, buried, pounding, hammer-like, as if listening to bass music from a car parked on a block.

Inevitably, when the hatch was twisted, it became a mechanical world reminiscent of the internal psychology of what is now called "Tetsujin Tetsuo."Mostly duo tones, shaded in dark gray and black, with an oily, moist, rich atmosphere.When I entered the hatch and got off the ladder (there was always a ladder), the pressure of the sound increased, and it was as if the whole body was swallowed by this monolithic underground machine.It wasn't revealed what the machine did or what it was, but what made me feel was that something beyond my usual understanding trained day and night. It was to give infinite power and command beyond my understanding.

I'm surprised that the dream has reappeared before me over the past year.Perhaps it's the result of the quietness of the world and the ability to listen to the most subtle acoustic changes when we sleep.The remote sounds that are normally hidden in the hustle and bustle of the night view of the city enter into my dreams and provoke some sort of speculative consciousness.This post-hypnotic condition prompted me to return to the place I dreamed of when I was a kid, but at the same time I wasn't allowed full access to that place, which was rather reluctant.Even if you have a hatch, you can't enter in the same way, and you can't unlock it in the same way.

When I told Jamie this dream last year, he also said his sleep pattern was unstable.This has led us to think about the recent shift in world mechanics towards the emergence of nature.Industrial products, machinery, and other acoustic by-products of human (or non-human) labor are reaching out of the quiet environmental noise floor.What is normally immersed in the (sub) urban scape is unearthed, and at this special moment it becomes an external force that bothers us from a distance and unleashes internal uncertainties.This music is a transposition of this experience, written for the moment when consciousness is definitely inferred. "

Labels and other works Click here for more information. ///Click here to see more Room40 releases available at Tobira.

----------------------------

Matte concentrate monochrome printed sleeve, printed inner sleeve plus 32 page artist book containing text and collages from Jamie Stewart and Lawrence English

~

Text from Lawrence English:

" When I was child I had two recurring dreams.Both these dreams were tethered to the house I lived in.It was a rambling home which was high set but underneath it was largely unfinished.The underside of the house was a labyrinth of small rooms, concrete pits and a collection of building materials, piping and leftover furniture sat alongside beds of dirt that had a consistency of lunar dust.

The first recurring dream was of a burning bird, falling from the sky past the kitchen window in the early hours of the morning. The bird I'm pretty sure was some devolved version of a tabernacle candle, that shape of the twisted eternal flame often symbolised with twitching wings. This dream has never returned to me as an adult, though I can vividly recount it.

The second dream has recently emerged, albeit a distant hazy reference to the tangible intensity that I experienced when I was younger. This dream was one buried deep within the labyrinthian, unfinished features that existed under my house. the lunar dirt and gradually a sound would emerge from a large concrete pit that was in the center of the space. The sound would get louder and eventually I would have It called me in, there's no other way to describe it. As I looked into the pit, there was always some kind of hatch, often resembling a pressure door, the type you might see in a Submarine film, It was also a throbbing, hammering type of sound, deeply diminished and buried, like hearing bass music from a car parked up the block.

Inevitably, I would twist open the hatch and inside it was a mechanical world that today brings to mind the interior psyche of Tetsuo The Iron Man. It was dark, almost entirely duotone, shaded in heavy gray and black, and wet with a thick, humid, oil like moisture. As I climbed into the hatch and down the ladder (there was always a ladder too) the pressure of the sound increased and it was as if my whole body was being consumed by this monolithic subterranean machine. I never got to understand what the machine did, or if in fact it was a machine at all, the system was never revealed, but what I was made to feel was that there was something beyond my usual understanding that forged away night and day and was infinitely more powerful and commanding than I ever could comprehend.

I was surprised that, over the past year, this dream has returned to me. Perhaps it's a result of the general quietening of the world and that innate way our ears can open up to even the most subtle acoustic shifts when we are sleeping. Remote sounds, usually hidden in the din of the urban nightscape, were filtering into my dreams and triggering some kind of speculative consciousness. This post-hypnogogic state ushered in a return to that imagined place from my childhood dreams, but simultaneously I was never allowed full I could not enter it in the same way, even if the hatch was there, I was not the same mind and could not unlock it in the same way.

Last year, I mentioned this dream to Jamie, and he too reported unsteady sleep patterns. This got us to thinking about how the dynamics of the world have recently positioned towards the emergence of the natural world. shadow; those ongoing industrial, mechanical and other acoustic by-products of human (and unhuman) labour reach out from the hushed ambient noise floor. What is usually soaked up in the everyday (sub) urbanscape has been exhumed and in these particular moments it haunts us from a distance, an exterior force that unlocks interior uncertainties. This music is transposed of this experience and is written for those moments were consciousness is arguably speculative.
 "

Artist: HEXA

Label: Room40