There is a vast chasm of time between the release of Chris Herbert's debut album, Mezzotint, and this, his proper full-length followup. The self-described non-musician attributes the eight-year absence to a narrowing of the slices of time available to him for producing music, due to certain undisclosed life events. Capitalizing on the moments in which he was able to record, Herbert assembled the music on this record from sessions that spanned the years of feigned inactivity.
Stitching together field recordings, short-wave radio and processed instrumentation, the Birmingham-based artist produces captivating drone passages that are ornamented with sonic singularities. Immense sound fields are prepared from seemingly disparate elements, heaving and frothing like an ocean's waves. Crackling sparks litter the atmosphere, giving birth to clouds of birdsong, static and other unnameable sonic events. With Constants, Herbert has attempted — and succeeded — at casting aside the shadow created by his lengthy near-disappearance.
(Room40)Stitching together field recordings, short-wave radio and processed instrumentation, the Birmingham-based artist produces captivating drone passages that are ornamented with sonic singularities. Immense sound fields are prepared from seemingly disparate elements, heaving and frothing like an ocean's waves. Crackling sparks litter the atmosphere, giving birth to clouds of birdsong, static and other unnameable sonic events. With Constants, Herbert has attempted — and succeeded — at casting aside the shadow created by his lengthy near-disappearance.