seven

After releasing Dismembering Artists this past year, a collection of the earliest, unreleased Stone Glass Steel material, Phil Easter has returned with this swank new 10" - his first new SGS material in over seven years. Released in an insanely limited edition of only 100 on Belgium's Spectre Records, this is the kind of release that's coveted before it's even heard.

The SGS formula is one of reconstruction: the recycling of audio culture into entirely new creations. That's why the first side of this release, "Corruption," initially had me so puzzled. Deep moans of cello... a soft choral backdrop... twitters of violin... a crescendo? These were the unmistakable sounds of a symphony orchestra. Now I don't know if you've ever looked into the costs of hiring that many musicians, but I'm pretty certain Easter's Malignant Sound Tech. mastering gigs wouldn't cover it. The fact that I didn't realize it was meticulously sampled and constructed from a waist high stack of CD's is surely a testament to its brilliance. I can actually envision a darkened room lined with enough musicians and instruments to give each sound life, when in truth the sole conductor is sitting in front of a Macintosh G4 plugging away in ProTools.

Throughout the track's ten-minute length the samples are seamlessly woven into a captivating, emotive piece of music chock full of all the twists, nuances and rich, full sounds of an open-air orchestra. The 'Cut & Paste Orchestra of Tucson,' as Easter calls it. The idea that fragments of up to a dozen different scores can all coalesce into one quality, unified piece is quite amazing when you think about it.

On the flip side, "Redemption" picks up closer to where past releases Industrial Icon and Industrial Meditation left off... an SGS sound one would be more likely to recognize. A droning, layered stew of hidden depths is bound with an amplified tapping percussion, before a gradual cross fade spills it into a far more desolate atmosphere. The sound is methodic, with each cross fade seeming as natural a progression as the one before it. The climax, built up from slowly marching rhythms, is laced with a high pitched squeal, like a hummeroo hissing in a bonfire, and it eventually has the last word.

The only downside to this release is that only 100 will own a copy, and on top of that it's limited to an audience with turntables. There's something fitting, however, about an entirely digital method of creation reverting back to an analog sound source for its delivery. I won't hesitate in saying that this is SGS's finest output, and if it's a sign of things to come I don't know about you, but I have a lot to look forward to.