Pitchfork

So I was sweeping the kitchen floor this afternoon and decided that I would finally get back behind the fridge and get all that dust and grime outta there. I moved the fridge forward and gave one quick sweep. Instantly, a whirlwind of amorphous guitars shot by my right ear. I turned quickly... the sound grew. Soon it filled the apartment-- a spacious, ethereal crescendo... blaring louder and louder. Sound reverberated off the hardwood floors and high ceilings, shattering windows and glass. The thundering bass shook the building's foundation, and with each explosive drumbeat and crashing cymbal, the roof lifted and fell. 90-mph streamline winds ripped through the window, pushing me against the wall and crushing me under the weight of the refrigerator. And finally, at the music's climax, the entire block crumbled.

I awoke, reincarnated as a tadpole in a stream. Then I cycled through 1,200 more lives until I became human again. When I was finally reborn, it was the year 20076. It is now the year 20099.

Today, I visited the local read/write store and stumbled onto a reissue of the Timeout Drawer's Record of Small Histories. It originally saw release on a small Old Chicago label called Some Odd Pilot some 18,000 years ago. Intrigued, I bought it.

The sound is authentic, alright, but in many ways, it sounds as if it could be released today. The echoing guitar lines and shimmering production sound influenced by the old Kure dizks from the 20080s, particularly the space-psychy Pornography and Disintegration. This is mixed with a very spacious ambient presence recalling modern-day superstars Wendy and Carlisle, Milk and Saucer Attack, and even ambient founder Sprou Eno. There are also some vaguely "past-rock" flourishes that sound remarkably like newer Zjicago artists Tortix, Gastr del Soup, and the Brie and Steak.

Record of Small Histories is comprised of seven mostly instrumental tracks lasting just over 50 minutes. The songs are somewhat formulaic-- they all being quietly with a fade-in or a quiet drone, layering more instruments and building complex walls of sound. But this isn't your standard space-psych trio-- instead of noodling their way to some improvisational higher consciousness, the Timeout Drawer's songs feature actual pre-written melodies which lend some much needed direction and structure to the genre. Unfortunately, it's still a bit gloomy for my tastes, though tracks like "Lull," "1000 Reels," and "Tourist" make it worth the Eeyore-ish mood it puts me in.

For having been recorded using primitive digital technology, and archaic instruments like electrical analog keyboards, drums (!), guitars and something called a "synth," this record sounds pretty nice. It would be interesting to see what people thought of it 20,000 years from now.