Man and instrument can sometimes morph into a mutual act of sexual intensity. Seeing Infinite Light play live, the performer thrusting his groin into the body of his electric guitar, you could be forgiven for blushing. Intricate blasts of micro-glory freestyles start and stop leaving resonance to soak the scorched air. This is a work of solo guitar, with a kinship to the bass-playing of Brian Gibson (lightning bolt) and Michael Flowers string works (c. Flower Corsano Duo). The absence of percussion, in this case, sees large silence and minimal vocals that make this an intimate affair. Hendrix worship apart, there are some wholly original modes of play that depict someone truly involved in an improvised performance. The quality is extremely lo-fi, feeling like Ignatz’s Miles Devens. The unusual falsetto chanted vocals grace proceedings in a style one might attribute to Loren Connors mid-eighties tape experiments.
The first side capitalises on detailed finger-work and mournful vocals, reminiscent of Panda Bear’s prayers to his departed father. The grain and hiss of tape adds a certain ‘lost archive’ to the sound. The lengthy piece is only punctuated by the frequent pauses that resonate the last power chord. Infinite Light lingers in middle tones, and then rockets through scales delivering taught squeals through over-amped blues licks. There is a consistency that keeps the sound and tempo climbing heights without meandering dissention. The B side begins with a deeper, bassier resonance. Similar modes are delivered, yet there is a shift of tonal quality that demands fresh attention. The FM static is lessened and the thudding guitar blasts across the airwaves. The piece takes a shift with a third movement of static resonance and Fursaxa styled psych vocals.
This tape truly lives in its own private space, feeling disparate and slightly awkward with its openness and nudity. Infinite Light has connections with Beach Fuzz, and there is definitely a point of reference there. This is a beautifully presented tape, with a gorgeously solemn photo from a walk up Snowdon, Wales. 7/10 -- Peter Taylor (22 July, 2009)