The beauty of the avant-garde is that it both constantly evolves and remains the same; contexts, attitudes, and technologies are always changing, and yet the same core tenets—subvert, defy, experiment, express—will always be embodied by anyone who has or will ever fuck around with pedals or delve into extended techniques or record the rain outside their window. I mention this fairly apparent truth because one of the first things that came to mind when I heard the skittering tactility of Canyon (Los Angeles) was Yeast Culture’s IYS, an obscure but beloved record that came out more than thirty years ago. Both reside in a space that feels both dissected and organic, claustrophobic and expansive, all scrapes and rustles and pitter-patters that soothe the brain. But despite a shared lineage in focus and texture (and a passion for the foliage of the West Coast), R. Pierre’s latest document of “absolute music” is very much a fresh entry in a decidedly new canon of field recordings–based, stasis-inclined sound art exemplified by the work of the Modern Concern roster, Tsunoda/Unami, Abby Lee Tee, Norman W Long, and others. It is as confounding as it is relaxing—the thin, hissing constrictions of part two especially are almost unnerving at first—and perfect for a quiet moment here, there, or everywhere.
Noise Not Music 