Sloow Tapes – Beaver’s Moon
Norwegian apartment-psych by Fredrik Ness Sevendal, who collaborated with the likes of Slowburn, Bill Wood and Makoto Kawabata among other fellow mind explorers. A collection of lo-fi space oddities, from hallucinating acoustic acid guitar lines to repetitive hypnotic distorted weirdness. 70 copies.
Home-made psych / experimentalism from this Norwegian chap who has collaborated in the past with Kawabata, Slowburn and Bill Wood. This starts off with some hypnotic guitar-work and then heads off into more unsettling territory - thick atmospheres of densely layered distorted guitar, sampled voices, milk-bottle percussion. (Boa Melody Bar)
Let me tell you a story. Well, it’s not a story, actually. It’s a long forgotten news fact: in 1990, Russia shot an astronaut from Kazakhstan into space. One year later, Kazakhstan became independent. Good for them. But they had a small problem; they didn’t have the money anymore for space travels. And the Russians didn’t care anymore. So the astronaut stayed into space for a whole year before Russia and Kazakhstan came to a solution.
Space and isolation, that’s what I had to think about when I was listening to Tinoll. This record reminds me of Patashnik by Biosphere, an R&S classic. It also reminds of the darker parts of Fennesz his Black Sea record. It must be the combination of distorted guitars and thick layers of fuzzy electronics. It must be. Dark side of the moon. Is there anybody out there? Whish you were here. Oops, a free association mind travel. Ground control to Major Tom: commencing countdown. Engines on. Check ignition and may God's love be with you. 6/10 -- Joeri Bruyninckx (Foxy Digitalis)
Multi-track c40s can be like watching different colored paints dry to a wall in the dark, but Fredrik Ness Sevendal keeps things varied and focused. Largely honed around outer limit guitar destruction through the prism of unknown electronic boxes, with a few auxiliary percussion toys at his beck and call, Fredrik Ness Sevendal's Tinoll (c40, Sloow Tapes) is a David Lynchian nightmare of cave reverb melody, midnight muttering, the car left running outside that you hear through the window panes. At times suffocatingly dense and then suddenly sparse and lonely, only to tumble into tom-driven rock dirges, this generally creepy, cerebral release never loses hold of its powerfully evocative, textural sensibility. Spoooky. (Impose Magazine)