Headyello - Road to Elsewhere (2019)

Being somewhat out of the loop, I have no idea whether this is what people are presently referring to as noise, or whether this sort of thing is fairly commonplace for those with digits on cultural pulses, so bollocks to thee and thine should I give cause for sneering at my Grandpa-esque observations.

I generally don't do downloads, and yet here we are once again and not regretting the experience. Road to Elsewhere was approximately recommended to me as the work of a fellow Texan, and although Fort Worth is at such a distance that I've only been over that way twice this decade, it turns out to have been a good recommendation. As stated, I don't really know if this counts as noise, although if it does, symphonic noise seems as reliable a term as any. My initial impression was of random electronic farts, squirts, and bursts of tape hiss in the vein of factor X or maybe the nineties version of Nocturnal Emissions, and if there's a harsh element, it's to be found in the composition rather than the actual sonics. The album, which we may as well refer to as an album, comprises two lengthy pieces of respectively twenty minutes and half an hour duration. It's mostly found, treated sound from what I can tell, snatches of radio, telephone maybe, the buzz of a starter motor interfering with a tape recording, quiet sound sources peaking and distorting as the needle swings into the red, mains hum, things which sound like memories of the engine rumble on a childhood car journey. Excepting bursts of pop hits overheard, there's nothing musical, and yet the arrangement lends this whole thing a sort of tonal progression which becomes apparent with repeat listening. Loops cease to sound any more like loops than would be refrains repeated for the sake of a chorus in a more regular piece of music, and the rumble comes to complement the squeak and the squeal in much the same way as a cello might underpin the higher strings in an orchestra; and all the while Road to Elsewhere retains its sense of chaos, certainly nothing so twee as noise regimented as music. It's emotionally quite powerful is what I'm trying to say here.

If none of that makes any sense whatsoever, then I suppose you could say it's Max Ernst's Europe After the Rain as distinct from Jackson Pollock splashing it all about like Henry Cooper; and if that doesn't make any sense, maybe just take the plunge and listen to the thing.

Stop it and buy one here.