At the beginning of this album you’ve an impression of La Monte Young-esque psycho-yoga, you dither in awe at the patience required to play (listen to) this. Then something happens. The repetition starts to deteriorate, which affects not patience but your perception of it. The record drops us in a field recording, how long can you tolerate eternity? Spend time with these sounds and the space between events, rooms, renders clarity in a miraculous way, each track for each track, the assemblage grows plumage.
This record is the end of the line. Is it possible to escape this fate? Will they let you off the hook if you’re willing to eat fur? Or wait for the G train at 3am? (This was my favorite track, the album turns wicked dark and does not return. Consider trauma in the style of Catharine Malabou. Rug burn to the brain that never fully heals. You may have a story for it’s inception, but no amount of therapy leads you back to personal intention. You’ve been vacuumed. Get over it.)
Frankly, this is an emotionally draining album. By the end I was noticeably tired. It’s not that Landis asks a lot out of you as a listener. What he does do is draw you into his life sans hesitation. There are ups and downs, unidentified desires and failures that are simply there. It is hard to truly listen/exist with another, the push, the pull, that becomes, by default, the essence of risk. This music teaches us how to live this. It reveals how this is the grandest risk one can possibly take.
It doesn’t have to scar you, the experience, of another’s emotions, of this tape. Do not underestimate the gravitas, though, the importance of ethical living, at every waking moment. You might wake up clueless with a shrink, and never return from her/his velveteen office, she/he is wearing madras plaid, there are too many mood rings.