Millions - Shredded Heaven Taken from Foxy Digitalis Thanks Elliot!

MILLIONS “Shredded Heaven” (Baked Tapes)

Millions is the recording project of Brooklyn-based sound-artist David Suss. He’s self-released a ton of CDRs, put out some more via Obsolete Units and Abandon Ship (et al), and this c30 scorcher, limited to 60 copies, was released by Baked Tapes. The deep earth-digging/shaking drones that come alive on the two sides of “Shredded Heaven” will appeal to gloomy-depressives and the hopeful alike, as the sounds are absolutely suitable for either wall or sun-gazing, or whatever may lie in-between. Both tracks are fully absorptive, washing over the listener with thick, contemplative waves of seductive sonic pulse-fuzz.

Side A rips in with a static bath that completely soaks the space until a celebratory ray of light peeks in through the dense pattern. The trance that Suss produces here is undeniably joyful and flowing, as if a devastated body/soul is rising up from the thickest sludge of Being. Side B establishes a more eerie and apocalyptic mood with a whirring siren that spins around the minefield. The organ shimmers above a cavernous bass hum, materially grounding the gloom for a delayed guitar phrase to smoothly loom on. A monstrous static wall gradually builds, disrupting the open space, transforming the drone into a vertical ride toward everlasting night. No worries, though, because the lights get bright enough here to shine out even the darkest of roads. 8/10

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Millions - Shredded Heaven Taken from Tabs Out Thanks Dave!

MILLIONS “Shredded Heaven” c30 (Baked Tapes)

Brooklyn resident David Suss, the man working behind the Millions curtain since roughly 2007 offers up his recent recipe Shredded Heaven, which comes to us fresh out of the Baked Tapes neighborhood oven. It’s a damn tasty treat and is well worth keeping in the Rolodex for your next dinner party. I may be wrong but I’d venture to guess that he called this one Shredded Heaven because he got as pissed as I did when he found out those fucking nebula pictures they take in space are actually doctored on a computer to look so cool. Jerks.

Side one is a cosmic drone of the highest order. While being firmly anchored to a foundation of deep, rounded synth thrumming and soft static buzzes, it is also in a constant state of slow, focused fluctuation. Suss is super zoned in here and with a sure, steady, sometimes undetectable hand, he valiantly forges an animate universe of radiant warmth and monolithic force. Ethereal wisps race through the heavenly body at warp speed and slowly evaporate amidst countless brilliant constellations singing beautifully in gracious, reverent chorus. It’s a spectacle to behold and this shit wasn’t colored by Nasa. Fucking assholes.

The flip side unearths some of the deeper buried elements of the first side and incorporates them into more subdued atmospherics. Gentle guitars echo in delicate patters, rippling through warm swelling strings and humming synthesizers. Slow airy mutations shape the backdrop, tense illuminations slowly begin to permeate the surface and a sharp, rusty stringed guitar phrase sends us off. Suss is really on a roll lately and this release is no exception. It’s still available via Baked Tapes, which I might add is also on quite a roll. Go get it and pick up a couple of their other goodies while you’re at it.

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scanned from the December 2009 issue of Decibel Magazine

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These guys have been sitting in a box in my room for a while, time to officially become unlazy and get these out. Scorchers, every last one of them.


CRY OF THE 12th AETHYR by Chaos Majik (c30)
Todd Brooks, the multi-hatted New Yorker responsible for the creation of fine goods and organizer of epic events through his Pendu organization as well as purveyor of a new breed of cerebral jazz as member of the city’s seminal damaged jazz titans Ghost Moth, here offers a rare peak into his far overlooked (and underpraised) solo project, Chaos Majik. True to the adhocist roots that embrace all of Todd’s work, spontaneous acts of creation thru use of readily available materials, we see (or hear) his homebuilt circuits come alive through interactions with itself, Brooks and their shared environment as the setting sun slowly coerces the shape of these photosensitive oscillations. Despite it’s very electronic origins, Cry of the 12th Aethyr never strays from its organic roots, conjuring images of pitch dark nights in unfamiliar woods, completely blinded by the shadows, but fully cognizant of the thousands of formless shapes slowly enveloping you. Go ahead, turn off the lights and take a stroll through your mind. EPIC. Ltd. 60.


SMOKIN’ IN THE BOYS ROOM by Abusement Park (30 sec. loop + urinal cake)
Two dudes, a sax and a makeshift drumset from bongos, trashcans, sheet metal and other assorted crap constitute the behemoth that is Abusement Park, a band lavishly known for their ability to crash a party in style, celebrating the poignancy of unwelcome guests via locking themselves in bathrooms (sometimes together, sometimes separate) and churning stomaches with their guerilla tactics in a congealed acoustic mess of horn damage, clangs and ceaseless pounding. They recently stopped by The Bakery to cut this tape, for which I had to flank mics from pipes in a tiny NYC apartment railroad car style bathroom. The entire performance, some 10 minutes of putrid agony ringing thru the building’s heating & water pipes, was later cut up, and merged down to this looping 30 second tape. Ltd. 7

“This loop is solely for demonstration purposes and should only be played at top volume through a boombox situated in a bathroom.”

EXTEMELY LIMITED QUANTITY AVAIL. Due to the size/weight of this, USppd for this tape and cake alone is $7.


SHREDDED HEAVEN by Millions (c30)
Horrifyingly beautiful in the truest sense, an exquisitely woven and meticulously shaped narrative assembled from the horrifying nomenclature of hums, buzzes and shrieks by one mister David Suss under his Millions nom de plume. With ever-increasingly epic releases on the likes of Peasant Magik, Abandon Ship and Obsolete Units, Shredded Heaven finds Suss at his finest. “Scrape yr skull against that great celestial cheese grater and let the fruits of that communion drift down and slowly blanket the earth. float back home and watch as all you know is submerged beneath the sweet glacial avalanche.” Synonymically literal artwork by Suss. Ltd. 60.


NICARAGUA ‘72 by Sunglasses (c60)
Having recently relocated to Chicago from Queens, I was glad to hear from Matt Kimmel (man behind the camera at Acid Marshmallow and the keyboard in Fluorescent Vibes) that he quickly settled in and had hooked up with former Miami Beach bandmate, Ryan Chupick, and together had been bringing a new brand of focused meditative hymns to the windy city. Nicaragua ‘72, their debut, is a hour long excursion in four parts, each painstakingly restrained, slowly budding from repetitious ebbs and flows, subtilely expanding mantras lowering the pulse and drawing one into a somnolent state, growing steadily until side B erupts and shit starts to get real. Ltd. 40.


BAJON by Pork Lion (c7 + bizcard)
A freakshow of recent experiments gone horribly awry. These diary vignettes range from psych guitar noodlings to knob-twiddling vocodations, with excerpts of an unintended chorus of a oddly sized and tuned folk guitars, a Mothers “cover” and a tone poem for ring modulator and LFO to round out these 3 sides. Quick glimpses into a burnt mind. Ltd. 24.



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All 4 (minus AP loop/cake) for $18ppd
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