The Answer Is In The Beat

Foom: Surface Noise And Imperfections LP (No Fidelity Audio, 2013)

December 6, 2013 at 8:56 pm | Posted in Reviews | Leave a comment

Foom is the long-running moniker of lo-fi loop collage artist Chris Lichatz. His earliest releases plumbed the depths of lo-fi experimental rock, with 1996 seeing the release of a 7″ called “Them Ol’ Stanky Blues” (featuring Beefhartian wailing over a slowed, skipping Led Zeppelin record), as well as a triple 7″ on Stomache Ache Records called “Six Of My Favorite Turds”. Since then, he’s been hoarding thrift store vinyl and creating dreamy collages with one turntable, a splitter and two looping pedals. This is his first vinyl release since the ’90s, and the record is actually packaged in a collaged-over sleeve from one of the thrift-store records that were plundered for samples. The album, as to be expected, is an easy listening nightmare of schlocky strings and vinyl static, repurposed and made much more sinister sounding. Brief opener “Thre” features plenty of evil, maniacal chipmunk giggling, and “Tieu” starts with a backwards shifting loop and lonely bells and harmonica, before tumbling into backwards strings and subdued piano. Evenetually a loop emerges featuring brief pauses, caused from simply stopping the record for a moment and starting it again, and that loop, along with another bed of syrupy backwards strings, is just enough to jolt you up and take notice, if the music has you zoning out or nodding off. Some eerie vocal loop adds to the distant, lonesome quality. On Side B, “Forr” greets us with more gentle but disconcerting string loops, and more ghostly wisps of disembodied vocals. “Tieu” starts with slowly blooming crystalline orbs, before slow disjointed rhythms and buried voices seep out, staggering between the speakers. Some high-pitched soul wails appear out of nowhere, a vinyl slipping and making some sort fo revving-up sound gets looped, and some trudging drums beat against a sad, empty funeral drone. A distant backwards loop of tense, chaotic movie strings disintegrates into a more peaceful loop and some gentle, fluttering female vocals, which gracefully fall like flower petals. A curious sliver of blues piano seems to faintly play right before the album’s end. Highly recommended for fans of The Caretaker and the more easy listening, less oldies radio side of People Like Us.