What follows is a failed, forced attempt at descriptive writing:
Never having heard of Carl Stone before, I was informed he is one of the original San Francisco electronic + field recording artists. Mr. Stone’s full and rich field samples were processed clean and crisp. The warm field recordings, so coolly post-processed, were delicate and satisfying. Sounds were layered onto and into one another with the care of experience; vocal scraps were released within lush shrubs of crunchy static. Transitions between moods were slow and smooth; a few times along the journey, I lost track of where some of the aural personalities had gone.
Under this veil of mastery, I expected a complete and whole story. Instead, the end came rather abruptly, devoid of the care I felt sheparding transitions. The unfortunate end made me question the piece as a whole; I was unable to understand the journey I had taken. Was this merely a meandering through the land of electronica, or was there a deeper structure transparent to my naive gaze? Mostly, my disappointment rises from a long-standing issue: the majority of laptop musicians I’ve heard don’t understand beginning, middle, and end. Particularly, end.
The evening concluded with nostalgic visits to 80s era arcade games and consoles: Asteroids, Missile Command, Pole Position II, an Atari 2600 (which I still have in my grandmother’s home), and more. The games, open for free play, are part of Rx Gallery‘s current exhibition by the BOLT: A Low Tech Odyssey.