... on sale for only ::
new to stock as of
may 9th, 2011
|deception island (usa) #di37 cs|
dr. quinn medicine woman “advanced dungeons and dragons” c30 cassette
- i hate myself and i want to cry
- vin diesel
- suburban blaster
- suburban blaster
- keyless entry
- you look good
- fortune cookie
- coin toss
- dead batteries
- room temp beer
|may 2011 release ; ... not sure if ryan kuehn’s chosen moniker is a bid at ferraro-styled generational reclamation (or if it’s simply a case of divine irreverance) but let’s look past all that & into his mile-wide gaze, which takes in a veritable smorgas’ bord of woozy, early 70’s gruyère-beat, harsh squared-off grind, punch-in / out auto-poesie, and even a little gnarled turntablism (listen to the sound-sample for those things, in roughly that order) rightfully living up to the frighteninglyy apropos "rust belt basement stapleton" status dealt below ...|
|deception island press release...|
di37: dr. quinn medicine woman "advanced dungeons and dragons" c30 (edition of 150).
dqmw is ryan kuehn of thursday club, hot air balloon ride, etc, who for my $ is probably more responsible than any other individual for the less immediately obvious particulars of the contemporary cleveland aesthetic. "ad&d" has the best kind of "collected home recordings" feel to it and is definitely the most appropriate layperson's introduction to ryan's work, which encompasses grmmy hyperreal metals, terry riley-esque ivory-tickling, psychedelic jaws-of-the-cosmos vocal manipulation, obnoxious gear demos, bleary expanses of fading transmissions, etc. truly bizarre "rust belt basement stapleton" vibe to this one.
|ryan kuehn is as total an enigma as they come, and is probably more responsible than any other individual for the persistence of cleveland’s status as a hub of utter strangeness, between his long-term stewardship of “the record exchange”, a nosebleed haven for human / audio fuckery and deep afterhours gurgle on wcsb, and thursday club, his collaboration with brian detrow, which spent the early oughts mapping much of the territory within which an ensuing wave of northern ohio fuckups, from fragments to moth cock, would operate. in that sense, thursday club’s dna is woven every bit as deeply into the cleveland aesthetic as that of skin graft or tusco terror, and despite the name, ryan’s solo recordings as dr. quinn medicine woman hew much more closely to the psychedelic free electronics and mossy synth throb of tc than, say, the righteously pointed misanthropy of hot air balloon ride (with john elliott), the thousand-yard-starin’ tape zonkery of the reel deel (with john elliott and chris madak), or the negative-wavecrust hose blast of dpi (with wyatt howland, amanda howland, and j guy laughlin).|
while prior dqmw jawns have flaunted their opacity and insiders-only scruples, advanced dungeons and dragons simply shrugs, pulls back the curtain, and takes out the trash. as effective and consistently surprising a cereal box decoder ring as any in kuehn’s vast ouerve, it’s a rare opportunity to stagger your way across a hypercube tumbling through the ether, sipping nectar through a straw in a storm of mercury droplets (“d20 ), passing out on the deck of a heavily filigreed hovercraft (“soloflex”), wrapping your head around salvia jaws (“vin diesel”), spraying tar from a whipped cream can (“suburban blaster”), and waking up on a screwy plateau on the edge of time, where a drop of water takes eight hours to roll down your face (“keyless entry”). …and that’s just side a, with the reverse taking in the grmmy hamminess of “fortune cookie”, the zonked/dissociated lesswave of “coin toss”, the glassy, celestial glide of “sub-zero”, and the bleary, tumbling wool-fi minimalism of “room temp beer.” extra fucked classic rust belt basement tapecult aesthetic. one for the true heads.