In this review, Fernando Bravo enters an audio dreamspace, and invites us to enjoy it with them.
Below 302, an eerie oft-empty space exists, a t-junction of clear coat red and blue, patterned wood and uncomfortable couches. Elevator doors break the wall, never open. Cameras and exit signs call to action, all sounds reflect and are then heard distant. Unattended custodial equipment exists in quiet abandon, tube lights flicker visibly, all doors are locked; a high pitched whining supplements the tone as disembodied bleeps fade in and out of earshot.
“noi s e” by liroca is this space, swelling in pitch, additive, growing harsh streaks of crystals to extend outward only to then collapse in waves of bass, crashing against the far edges of the stereo field, filling the air, its motion recoiling, engorging, recoiling then engorging. Momentary rumbling presents lower earth and clears the air before broken streamlines clash above saws and pink noise, projecting digital birds running through a flying animation unmoving. Tattered electric bells ring in sequence, bouncing off themselves as beacons through viscous fog to conjure a pixelated lighthouse; projected light peeking outwards only to drop off into the awaiting sea of static. Gulls pepper the air, buzzing to the motion of an expanding film as the final view of the rough unchanging base texture becomes.
This track navigates an exploration of the permanence of moods and the tangibly changing passing of time, through its form and workflow suggesting, demonstrating, extrapolating.
Listening can be augmented within a space with plenty of background noise or particulate filled air, any external factors to change and add to the overall experience. Stale, conditioned air serves here, perhaps a server room, a rented office or a subterranean study space. If listening out and about, be sure to walk through the intersection of Customs and Queen street, which exceeds the World Health Organization’s nitrate level standards.