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Angus Carlyle works at the University of the Arts, London where, with Dr. Cathy Lane, he is a
Director of CRiSAP.
He has been an intermittent writer for a while, tackling subjects as diverse as the suicide of
Guy Debord and long-distance truck drivers. He has devoted a lot of words to contemporary
photography, a process that began when he was the editor of themepark - a magazine active
across the turn of the millennium – and then continued with texts for gallery catalogues,
monographs and magazines. He edited Autumn Leaves: Sound and Environment in Artistic
Practice for Double Entendre and will soon publish Katch 23, a book about the art-pop band,
The KLF. In recent years, he has explored sound in artistic contexts, exhibiting at the DCA
Gallery in Tucson, the Zeppelin Festival in Barcelona, in the High Desert Test Sites in Joshua
Tree Valley, at London’s E:vent Gallery, on Resonance FM and on the M25 Motorway. He has
performed as part of improvising groups in the UK’s oldest cinema, at the Placard Festival and
at the Sonic Arts’ Network’s Expo 2008. A CD of his Kami-Katsura recordings will be released
by Gruenrekorder in the Spring of 2009.
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Shitsuren Shimashita - Vibrö 5
(track 07)
As the metal-on-metal percussion of the overground train falls away and the level crossing
barriers rise behind me, I follow the road that leads due west from Kami Katsura railway
station in the suburbs of Kyoto. Passing the barbers where I had my hair cut in the Autumn
sunshine of 2006 and, not many steps later, by the dark-walled café where I often ate
breakfast in the Spring of 2008, I can already see the grey-green trunks and the yellow-green
leaf canopy of the bamboo groves.The tranquil streets and woods of the district have offered
up their quiet acoustic treasures, some of which can be found by the side of the shallow
stream that runs through the valley. The source material of Shitsuren Shimashita is neither
processed nor looped but comes from underwater, from just above the stream’s sparkling
surface, from inside a drain, from under a concrete bridge where blue blazered boys hurled
rocks, from a temple fountain and from a graveyard’s rain bucket. The broken heart of the title
belongs to the woman who sang to me as darkness fell. |
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