Good news, music lovers! Stephen Baker returns to the audio scene with a brand new transmission called Isometric. During his days in the halcyon Tomorrowland outfit, Baker delivered soft-focus music for the Kranky and Darla imprints with Nick Brackney (go buy Stereoscopic Soundwaves right now). Nowadays he’s taking solo excursions under the Addisko moniker and the latest result is a six-track collection that pulses and flickers like a beloved snippet of Super 8. (It’s difficult to stay away from visual metaphors when discussing Baker’s work.)
Imagine placing the Chain Reaction catalogue under a heatlamp, thawing it out, and shellacking the results with a fizzy Spiritualized sheen. Processed guitars. Dignified percussion. This is big-hearted electric music designed for laying back in the sun. Remember the better parts of Burger & Ink’s Las Vegas? Or those Kreisel 7″s from ’99? These are rare moments when the endless loops of electronic music burn a little brighter and get a bit overheated, revealing the analogue grit and heart of a rock song. It’s a collision that makes a wonderful noise, and this is the moment that Baker continues to explore throughout his work — and Isometric zooms deep into the techno film, revealing warm weather and reassuring atmospheres.
As Friday night began to roll, he recalled Heraclitus’s warning about ‘night walkers, magicians, priests of Bacchus, and mystery-mongers.’
New Orleans is home to jazz and government neglect and other American traditions.
“A tantalizing 21st Century cross between Let Us Now Praise Famous Men and On the Road, this remarkable and utterly original memoir heralds the arrival of a new and important American voice. The Road to Somewhere will take you places you will not easily forget.”
A man believed his only chance at justice was to take a hostage and march him downtown. An idealistic dancer packed the theater yet the city cast her out. A search for their ghosts continues beneath the city.
You’ve seen her before. She’s the old woman with her eyes closed on the bus, the one who sits alone on a bench for hours. At night she listens to the exhausted air conditioners that sound like the sea, tuning in to the city’s static like an old radio show.
The Former Desk of the First Office of the Bureau of Manufactured History was unveiled at a ceremony on the third of May and continues to appear in unexpected locations throughout Indianapolis.