At the heart of Clinton Green’s latest is the humbly bewitching sound of several broken Walkmans looping over themselves and each other in a jittery, microscopic dance. According to the Shame File star himself, “Loose internal speakers from the Walkmans are positioned between the spindle and play-head. The parts cling together magnetically, yet are agitated by the turning spindle, creating not-quite-regular rhythms punctuated by magnetic/electronic interference.” It’s an approach that has a lot of potential despite its minimalism, a potential that is explored in depth throughout. But in a surprising turn of events (literally; beware the jump scare), the textures and twitches of the miniature motorized network are just one element of A Conduit, especially in eclectic opener “Allegations of Ventriloquism.” I already thought it was a great title, but the lengthy track—described as “a psychodrama; an opera”—delves into said allegations in a much more concrete manner than I expected, introducing a paranoid narrative via beamed-in speech scraps (provided by Michael McNab, Allan Stewart, Michael Zulicki, and Green himself), slurred tape delirium, and abstract turntable tactility. This last element acts as a kind of structural glue for the loose-strung collage, harmonizing with the miniscule rattle of the Walkmans as the skips and clunks respond to the bass and color of the sampled bits. The much briefer “Emucounter” is stripped down but no less mysterious, bringing the unmistakable buzz of an electromagnetic swarm to the foreground while guitars and reeds cavort upstage. And “Stopcock (Alleged)” is an almost scientific meditation, examining the effects of different placement configurations in a patient lead-up to a twist ending. I would be interested to hear a release that focused on the Walkmans on their own, but they also work so well here as both vital organ and connective tissue. – Noise Not Music
Clinton Green 