Edition of 100 pro-dubbed, Chrome/Type II cassettes. Double sided, with risographed artwork by Sara Drake and Ben Babbitt
Pillars and Tongues' End-Dances multi-track stems-
'Dogs', 'Bell+Rein', and 'Points of Light'
Piano (parts two and four), Synthesizer (part four)
Video for 'Part One' by Sara Drake- www.youtube.com/watch?v=-EaGTUA5wGQ
In a sense, to conceive of this work as a collection of remixes is to admit that any work is a remix. On the one hand, I am willing to concede that these pieces are remixes because most of the material that was manipulated to become what you hear was sourced from one set of recordings, from one full-length album. But on the other hand, all material that is manipulated to become a thing that you hear, see, feel, or use in some other way, has been sourced from some general collection of materials that can be organized in such a way so as to belong to a certain category. That is to say, the chair on which I am sitting while writing this could be said to be a remix of wooden beams and planes; or that those beams and planes came from a tree, and so on. It is not wrong to say that, but to say it perhaps is to be coy.
Because of the fact that there is transparency in this particular case, and that we know where the material was sourced from, there seems to be an implication that we should call them something particular and to distinguish them from "songs". I might be more inclined to call this work a series of sculptures, rather than remixes. But even then, perhaps, I am being more coy than is necessary; more poetic than is necessary. We all know what they are once we have listened to them. They are songs.
They are songs made out of rock and mud and sulphur steam dancing up above McCredie Hot Springs, dancing over Salt Creek, perfuming the holy secret air around that "muddy trucker hole" (as it was once called by a woman I met in Eugene); and the saliva of the Hell hound that attempted to jump through the driver's side window as we rolled into Villanueva, and the gust of air created by the angelic barn owl that came to the windshield out of the dream of the Pecos night and led us out to the road, to go north, to meet Lula. They are songs made out of a bar fight in Gainesville or Tallahassee and the uncertain traits of a mestizo culture that rides not the border between two countries but that which is between the states of consciousness that are termed "awake" and "asleep", but about which we have discovered a great fluidity.
In any case, like I already said: they are songs.
- M. Trecka