Offered here is a solo effort from Fat Worm's Jess Goddard. Goddard is the performative punctum of that band, dressing up in fantastic shape-shifting costumes at shows (often changing between several different ones throughout a set) and wiggling around amidst the rest of the band (who are all also wiggling usually) while conjuring up and laying down vocals from various subconscious realms.Goddard's sounds, and structural creativity on this record however, reveal a patience and a discernability amidst the disregard and playfulness that so fortunately characterize Fat Worm as a group and Goddard's role within it in particular. This record feels concentrated and crafted. It is wonderfully stripped back, and full of energy all over the place.
Goddard has worked her way into the circuitry of her sewing machine(s?) and in conjunction with parts of analog synth boxes, manufactures all the sounds on this record. The variable pulse of sewing machine (in addition to whatever mods it is making on circuits of synthesis) is quite apparent throughout side A. It provides rhythm, cycles and a whole range of percussive opportunities which Jess explores thoroughly. The opening section rides along atop a minimal acid-houseish pulse of fat clip static. Small, manageable space-craft pass by each other and wave. Tone here, tone there, teleport. Next piece. A high pitch test whistle is blown from near and far before the seasons change. Autumn patchwork counting and "lets go look underneath these dead leaves" danger. Abduction. Still running - the machine. Etc... Water-soaked woodblocks like lonely buchla mods trying to find their way back to the family crawl, stumble, fall - it's a penetrating needlecraft massacre.
Intentionally or not, Goddard is raising ideas about domesticity, arts and crafts, utility, industrialization, gender, and agression. I would be curious to hear her thoughts on these associations.
Side B: Some silences surround tid bits of wisp-sound-wrangling to start, before making the move for more drilling territory. Sewing-machine ins and outs, static anticipations (that grow into chants), and vague erased and neglected melodies trying to be heard bundle up in short spontaneous compositions throughout the side. Eventually the material settles on a very satisfying, if not a little hesitant, slow cooker jam of sorts - interpolated by quick sew-burning and high-end analog whistling. The side ends quite beautifully, and I just want more and more.
Originally released in 2008 as a tape on Open Mouth, the Northampton based label run by Bill Nace.
Beautiful b/w screen printed collage packaging. Edition of 200. One time pressing. Get it while you can.
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