This unassuming little joint is an apropos pairing of like minds, with the ultimate effect of demonstrating the possibilities in eerie and fucked-up atmospherics. Like a psychotic episode from Dahmer’s book of nightmares, this split presents two sides of contrasting darkness. This record is schizophrenic, yes—but altogether the two sides are complimentary, making for a consistently uneasy jaunt into the land of live experimental music and noise.
The brief liner notes credit Fella with saxophone, electronics, and guitar, so the squelchy thing that I hear leading us into this 17-minute chaos blast must be that aforementioned sax. It begins harmlessly enough, but by the time the needle is an inch closer to the label, we have progressed to full-bore torture. The squeals of the saxophone are stifled by the crumbling electronic landslide, low-frequency static eventually giving way to high-frequency squeals that sound like bastard children of the sax-on-synth tryst. Things break down completely then, leaving the noise trailing off into the tunnel, while tortured strings begin to take the stage. Through subtle delay and reverb, it sounds like Fella is plucking the part of the string between the nut and the pegs on the headstock of the guitar—not an altogether ingenious method, but it can have its place. But don’t get down on Fella’s guitar-work yet—he’s just started looping some heavily fucked-up manglings. Scraped and bent strings begin to come from left and right, leading us into a gentle but troubled land, where we take our rest finally, after this bizarre journey.
The segue from side A to side B is made beautifully with Timeload Fowl’s first piece, aptly titled “Intro”. Drones float us out into a placid sea while strange electronic scraps float by, maybe causing me to think that my destination will not be a pleasant one. Electronics and ‘amplified materials’ pepper this first track, and these random bursts are sometimes manifest in the way of full-blast feedback and sometimes in high-frequency sines. But maybe instead of pick apart the orchestration, you’d be better off just allowing yourself to be dazzled by the inevitable doom this track is bringing. As abruptly as that eerie drone ended, Timeload Fowl’s second piece begins. This one is a harsh sea of high-frequency sweeps, and the thing seems to be drenched largely in television snow. The vocals I could do without, but the chilling loops and tundra-sweeping synth pads are just the rub. The last piece is a collaboration between Timeload Fowl and James Fella, an appropriate arrangement, considering this is a Gilgongo production, after all. Electric guitar shredding cuts through some airy loops, and is accompanied by what sounds like a heavily-affected synthesizer. This final track is a simple one, and it actually seems to follow a kind of simple two-chord progression, lending it a somewhat epic quality. Just in time Fella’s manic saxophone makes its entrance, even shredding through the shredder (Zach Shredbetter on guitar, the liner notes say). A great closer to these 12” of terror. 7/10 -- Michael Jantz (24 March, 2010)