Kristin Miltner
Video game consoles are designed to seize you by the roll of quarters and pull you headlong into unfolding multidimensional space. At least that's how it is when Kristin Miltner is the composer and designer. Her custom software is at the splattering edge of spatial audio mapping for dynamic interactive music systems. There's a darker side, much darker, as any who heard her piece "Stunned Night" at the SF Tape Music Fest this year can attest. Your avatar boots have no laces but strap em on anyway and trot diagonally into the Peacock Lounge.
https://soundcloud.com/kristin-miltner
Blevin Blechdom
Bevin Kelley is one half of the duo Blectum From Blechdom, the hypnogogic duo who recently returned from deep space hibernation with the album 'Deep Bone' on Deathbomb Arc. Bevin relocated from Seattle to the wilds of the Mendocino Coast and now her solo project, also on Deathbomb Arc, hurtles us into the glow of space. There she's likely to intrude upon the orbit of Kristin Miltner for stellar encore. Not to be missed, wear your moon boots!
https://vimeo.com/user2673719
PCRV vs Appliancide
A decades-long avalanche, snowballing ever from the ice-y northern climes of Minneapolis and Fargo is headed right at you. You may think you've survived one face just as the backside crests, piling on top of you. Let it! Act like you're swimming, take the tumble down life's mountain as PCRV and Appliancide crash through the Peacock Lounge tangling you in a new topography. Both are based out of Fargo North Dakota. Appliancide during their Bay Area stint was known as Unconditional Loathing, once and future master of plunderphonics gone spectacularly awry. Matt Taggart runs the prolific Fluxus MT label, scaling the heights of harsh noise lo these many decades under his legendary PCRV moniker. Don't miss these two deep practitioners, come all this way to pack fresh snow in your ears.
pcrv.bandcamp.com
appliancide.bandcamp.com
Dead Fern
Nephrolepis exaltata often survive winter die-back even when lush fronds are absent above the soil. Resolute inattention however can assure a fern that is fully dead, a companion for those who exult in the sonorous interior life. Empty societal norms deserve nothing but ghostly rustling in reply anyway. The delicate rictus of decayed fronds hearkens to memory of loss, to green denied, succour withheld where once a torrent of phyllobilins stormed. Let nothing impede exploding photons from the Sun. Hold dead-rooted, only quaver as time passes from stars into sinewaves, each scorched link along the path signaling our raging senecence.
https://deadfern.bandcamp.com/
Cost: $5-$15 notaflof