U55 | A.F. Jones | Bourdon du Kinzie
Bourdon du Kinzie (N° 3 from N° 1)_excerpt1
Bourdon du Kinzie (N° 3 from N° 1)_excerpt2
format : CD ltd to 200 hand numbered copies
all copies come with an additional art card on 300gr satin paper
release year : 2018
length : 41’22
tracks :
Bourdon du Kinzie (N° 3 from N° 1)
status : still available !
>>> order via Paypal : chalkdc@unfathomless.net
(Belgium) : 14 € (inc.postage)
(Europe) : 15 € (inc.postage)
(World) : 16 € (inc.postage)
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: info :
Bourdon du Kinzie (N° 3 from N° 1), 48°08’33” N 122°45’39” W is a recording of an acoustic space, recorded on a January afternoon within adjoined bunkers, inside of a defunct munitions battery near Port Townsend, WA.
The acoustics within the site are very active, with long reverb decay times, so any sound that takes place within or outside of the space gets temporarily trapped inside, such that numerous sources interact with, dominate, and submit to one another. There were a few strangers that entered and left during the recording period, reflections of their voices unintelligible from multiple, scattered arrival paths.
As I’ve occasionally explored with such recordings — as in Four Dot Three To One (Kendra Steiner Editions, 2017) — the other aspect of this piece involves the use of analysis equipment in post-production to find dominant room tones that are natural to the acoustic space: for instance, here, 90 Hz and 315 Hz, and several much higher frequencies. Using a signal generator, the partials of these tones were emulated in post, married to the natural sound of the room. Such sequences that come and go throughout the recording, blending the synthetic with actual acoustic artifacts of the space; the human presenting the piece sympathetically improvises with the space, with the space always the foremost voice.
The bunkers are full of surprises, often resulting from the weather, visitors, and the changes in biologic sound sources relative to the times of day. To my ears, the most enriching surprises are related to the structure itself: within the architectural decisions of its builders, its angles, dimensions, and the materials from which it is made. Many of these aspects captured in the same day — one might hear throughout the recording brief sequences of airwave transmissions, close-mic’d steel and iron, and stethoscope recordings of concrete and other raw materials.
(A.F. Jones, 4 September 2018)
: reviews :
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Having known Al Jones and his history so well over the past almost two decades, it’s always difficult–impossible, really–to listen to his sound constructions without performing an image overlay with his long career in the navy, especially his subsurface activity with sonar while spending extended periods of time on a submarine. Listening to the opening few minutes of ‘Bourdon du Kinzie‘ (Battery Kinzie, in Port Townsend, Washington was the source site for the sounds here), one can quite easily imaging oneself submerging, the aural activity of the upper world being washed out in deep gurgles, swamped by tones of water, rendering all sounds strangely and aqueously refracted. The environment soon turns cavernous, stone walls vibrating with energy from hidden turbines; a photo shows Jones pressing a mic against one such old, stained wall. This seemingly distant activity buffets against bangs and dull scrapes right next to one’s ears–eerie and very effective. The piece lingers in this general area for a good while, expanding into adjacent zones filled with sandy rubbings, deep, heady thrums and more. It blurs out a bit, echoes of watery voices offset by indecipherable much closer utterances. Just as the listener is settling into a kind of edgy comfort zone, a few minutes from the disc’s conclusion, there’s an enormous, deafening series of bangs and groans, as though the hide of a battleship is being rent (there’s even a Godzilla-sounding moan or two). A dramatic and thrilling climax to a very fine release.
Brian Olewnick
Just Outside
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Sound ecologist, submarine acoustician, mastering engineer, musician; if it manifests within the ears, A.F. Jones is tuned into it. This CD echoes an order that David Thomas, a man who has never been shy about telling other people what to do, once barked. “Insist on more than the truth.” This album began with a field recording expedition to a disused bunker in Port Washington, WA. The space is simultaneously absorbent and reverberant, luring external sounds into its cavernous interior and transforming them with its long decay times. You could probably get some cool sounds by simply stamping your foot or dropping the change in your pockets and hearing what the space does to it. But sound collection is just the first step for Jones. He’s used audio analysis software to isolate and enhance the space’s dominant tones, and then further seasoned the reduction with dancing sine tones. The result is a sort of sonic centrifuge in which essences are extracted so that some sounds become more ephemeral and others more vivid. Give it a spin.
Bill Meyer
Dusted
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Recorded in a post-industrial area of Port Townsend (Washington state) the newest in a long-running series from the exceptional limited edition Belgian imprint Unfathomless is from A.F. Jones, the man behind Marginal Frequency. The disc Bourdon du Kinzie is made up of a single forty-one minute composition, Bourdon du Kinzie (N° 3 from N° 1), 48°08’33” N 122°45’39” W.
A breathing entity is contained in what sounds like a rusty industrial tight quarters, a thickly claustrophobic sound. From the start this sounds as though the maker is in a hazmat suit recording his footsteps through a long-forgotten empty hallway. The metallic reverberation and low-grade hum seems to drown out a nearby waterfall or rushing river. A continuous flow of muted static rolls on as footsteps move through what could be a silo or other enormous structure.
A barely audible frequency is emitted, in a way mimicking the communication between a light-house and passing ferry or water vessel. It’s a deep chugging that ripples and bubbles away freely. These are, in fact, some form of field recordings from “an acoustic space, recorded on a January afternoon within adjoined bunkers, inside of a defunct munitions battery…” Having traveled through much of the Pacific Northwest and having documented the many abandoned spaces along the way myself, I can most definitely attest the power of curiosity of such spaces – both with both the passing of time, and man’s imprint where we least expect it.
RUINS INSPECTOR: Jones’ approach is dramatically patient, subtle and otherwise a research project, overturning the peculiar functionality of a foregone facility. He seems particularly interested in surfaces, and what lies just above and just below them. Even in the inner cover art he seems to be exploring the ‘heartbeat’ of the structure. There are captured breezes, murmurs and more rumble than series magnitude ordinarily allows. For an extended period Jones pretty much keeps the listener on an extremely limited, so minimal excursion you may feel inherently left in the dark. And just when it may seem interminable he allows for a swirling and shaking drone to envelop the air field. The final nineteen minutes are the most alluring in terms of negligible shape-shifting. Hints of voices, echoes, maybe even a passing storm seem to be much deeper beyond the immediate coordinates. But there are signs of life emerging and elapsing from perception – as well as intermittent higher frequencies.
As we near the end the piece rumbles and bloats moreso, perhaps emulating what it may sound like on the flipside of a mountain while a tunnel is being bored through — taking you deep inside a restricted zone. And just when you thought it would fade out a large metal door growls open (like some kind of dragon-like apparition) and slams a few times – keeping the listener wide awake.
TJ Norris
Toneshift
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In my little (non-existent) book I had A.F. Jones as a guitarist of more improvised and drone-related music, and perhaps not the sort of guy who runs around with microphones at Battery Kinzie, “a concrete Endicott Period Battery located on Fort Worden, Jefferson County… The Battery was begun in Jun 1908, completed in 1910 and transferred to the Coast Artillery for use 10 Jan 1912 at a total cost of $207,832.50. The guns were dismounted in 1944 toward the end of World War II”. Jones went out there and recorded the empty space, and by the look on the big web, it is a massive place, with no doubt cavernous nooks. Just how this sonic exploration went I am not too sure of, but I would think Jones uses a variety of microphones to capture the space. Some capturing the wide-open space of the place while others are aimed smaller sounds, lurking in a corner, or even through contact microphones capturing vibrations of the place. Knowing this is a military facility may draw you in a certain direction; I believe. Why would this otherwise sound all bit grim and dark; the desolation of it all? Maybe one hears what one wants to hear here. Maybe it is because one thinks of this place as a former military complex? Would one think differently if this information weren’t known? Obviously, that is hard to say now, because I already know about it. Jones being a musician with a strong love for the world of drones, that is something that also comes about in this piece. I am not sure if there is any kind of processing going on; I feel strongly there isn’t. By layering these sounds together, Jones creates a rich tapestry of dark sounds, with creepy wind sounds hovering around the complex. Sometimes I think there are voices in there (other visitors maybe?), or the drones of a machine (an aeroplane overhead), but here too I have no idea at one point in time it was added (or taped during the whole process of recording these sounds). It is quite a creepy piece, not to be played right before going to sleep.
Frans de Waard
Vital Weekly
Unfathomless 