Back in 2014 I had the joy of experiencing the veteran noise performance artist Crank Sturgeon (US) live in Copenhagen. Everything he did was manipulation-based: he had only microphones, a tape recorder strapped to his chest and miscellaneous art supplies (scissors, cardboard, markers, adhesive tape...) with which to do foley. I was amazed at the range of noises that the guy could generate with such basic equipment. It all seemed random, but at the same time very methodical. I immediately got a similar impression today while listening to Fonz Garcés's Therapy Begins at Home.
I must confess that upon first reading the title, I dreaded some kind of "uplifting" indie rock album on the theme of healing. But no, this is definitely noise therapy. Phew!
This type of sound sculpture is very much about spontaneous gestures and about getting "organic" sounds out of electronic devices, shunning rhythm and melody in favor of pure timbral texture. While each noise performance consists of a "unique" sequence of manipulations, the genre does have an undeniable tendency towards a certain predictable aesthetic. As such, it is best experienced live, because a lot of the joy of noise lies in observing the artist as they carry out their own idiosyncratic ritual with home-made contraptions. This being said, a good old unpretentious noise recording can also make for a refreshing palate cleanser in between listening to more "normal" music styles.
This is a 2-track, 20-minute release performed using analog synthesizers, percussion (sadly the artist doesn't specify what kind) and microphones (presumably contact mics). Track 1, "Therapy" slowly builds from quiet pulsating tones to a crescendo of controlled accidents, random impacts that sometimes evoke the contents of a metal recycling bin being dropped down a flight of stairs, i.e. exactly what the doctor ordered. As is customary in noise music, feedback and overdrive also make an entrance, turning the gently pulsing synths into continuous howls of static, announcing track 2, "Begins at Home", where the pulse sequence swells up into growling, resonant drones awash in metallic reverb, as the percussive elements recede.
It's still surprising to me just how calming noise gets after a while. One settles into the randomness and the sonic onslaught becomes more like an abstract collage. Maybe there is some kind of therapeutic effect after all.