Standard Grey - Particular Sites and Species

[apneicvoid]

Earlier this year I made a commitment to myself to listen to more new music in 2022 from Bandcamp, over Spotify.

This was not necessarily a New Year’s resolution. (The ‘resolution,” if there ever was one, was to leave more capsule reviews on Bandcamp release pages for albums I enjoyed, and with regards to that I have resolutely failed.) Instead, I was giving myself a challenge to actually listen to more of the hundreds of albums I wishlist on Bandcamp annually, never actually getting around to sampling. I started to do this more at work, on administrative days, when I’d be glued to my computer regardless to perform a dozen-plus required tasks.

Standard Grey’s Particular Sites and Species, released in late January 2022 on Belgian label Audio. Video. Atmospheres., arrived in the dead of winter, just as I was committing myself to my Bandcamp routine. I remember being immediately engrossed within the early tracks, replying to emails under fluorescent light, soothed by the burbling textures and sweeping ambiance. But at work, on call for support at a moment’s notice, the volume was kept low, and I was listening with wired EarPods at a very low volume.

This had become something I knew I’d have to adapt to – listening to harsh noise through EarPods. There were certain artists I knew I wouldn’t be able to fuck with over earbuds; I wasn’t going to be sampling the latest high-frequency squelches of Slit Throats or a frenetic Incapacitants reissue, those would wait until I could strap on decent cans and listen at a comfortably immersive volume. But wall noise with foundational low-end and tape saturated slop? Hell yeah. It was like discovering a sweet spot, sounds I knew I could sample at low volume over earbuds, that I could always give another listen to with the Audio-Technica’s if I found myself intrigued.

Besides that, maybe part of what comes along with age is knowing just exactly what it is I want to hear, in any given moment. I like being surprised, but something sonically has to grab me up front and make me want to listen more closely. I’m getting to the point where I can’t justify myself engaging with art if I’m not enjoying it, no matter its ‘critical acclaim,’ no matter how many people I follow on Instagram are raving about it in my Stories feed. While I reserve this stance most strongly for television (where if I can’t identify a good reason to give a shit about anything I’m seeing by the end of the pilot, we’re done here), I’ve been applying it to music more often. I’ll eat crow on an album or two throughout the year after giving it a second shot, but I usually know within a track or two, or five to ten minutes into a noise wall or ambient track, if I’m down to invest in the album as a whole.

That said, revisiting Particular Sites and Species with real headphones now presents a sonic pallet far more sinister than previously determined over EarPods. The previously tranquil ‘burbles’ and tape-warped drones, suddenly in full fidelity, are viscerally organic and technicolor in scope. Both “Idling I” and “II” have malicious intent coursing through their runtimes, juxtaposed with field recordings of birds in the former track, and sharp, rustling movement in the latter.

“Disappearing Shore II” has a cinematic scope, evoking horror amongst its layers. As sounds akin to giallo synths swell and fade, the track ends with the gentle crackle of raindrops. Or perhaps the runout of a decades-old vinyl record, needle skipping back into a locked groove ad infinitum. Whatever the source, Standard Grey has rendered it clearly; the mire of tape saturation that could be heard throughout their 2021 release Handling (Modern Concern) is rarely present. Contrasted with the echoing, hard-panned drones of “Wraiths” (from Recent Tape Works/Measurement, 2020, Falt), which eventually give way to summoning bells and chimes, whispers swirling and nails scraping across every surface, everything on Particular Sites and Species has a natural familiarity to it, yet is composed to evoke something closer to an assemblage by Joseph Cornell than a collage of found, manipulated sounds.

The tape concludes with the nearly 18-minute title track, everything prior a precursor to the consummate voyage of this body of work. The listener is pulled along through streams and mud, unwittingly moving deeper into a forest of caustic soundscapes. A brief solace arrives just after the 6-minute mark – a low drone like a cello refocuses the track and propels the listener into its second half. All sense of calm is temporary, however, and by the 11-minute mark this drone has dissipated into a crumbling, boiling morass. There’s little to grab ahold of here, until another texture moves to overtake; high frequency whines give way to a vibrato blanket of feedback, competing with familiar samples from earlier in the track until everything slowly begins to fade to black, sinking deep into the mire.

The physicality of sound can be overwhelming, at times; these days, my body often feels on the edge of nausea, and often I have to pause to catch my breath during a particularly immersive listening session. I have a lot of admiration for those who can throw on a HNW release during a car ride; the vehicle my wife and I share has so much engine noise at certain speeds there’s no way I can determine what sounds are coming from the speakers and what’s happening under the hood. But at least, in those moments, the sonic violence is consistent, and feels controllable. A lack of dynamics can act like a weighted blanket, keeping you pinned to the ground. Standard Grey has no such interest in static exercise. It’s clear that the real horror is in not knowing what’s coming next, the sudden bait-and-switch of composition and emphasis. The natural world provides enough for the curious listener to be in awe of, raptured by its blithe terror.