Tim Olive & Alfredo Costa Monteiro — 33 Bays
Throughout the recording we are exposed to a rich greyscale spectrum of close mic'd clanking, scraping and scratching: the sounds of treads and tracks, mechanical parts moving, machines functioning. They are lacerating, abrasive sounds, but without emotional content in the usual sense. It's an unsettling examination of the unthinking, unforgiving ways of metal, but they approach it with the honest fascination of tinkerers, and have gathered a truly impressive variety of sounds.
If you've ever found yourself fascinated by the tinny sound of the speaker on a cheap toy, this is the album for you. I can only imagine this recording could have been created by the dissection of countless such objects. Fizzing distorted digital crackle and interference compliment the various dusty rustling and crumpling textures which act as small gestural fragments in the restlessly shifting bed of sounds. Nostalgic feedback tones ring out and waver in an almost lonely or forlorn fashion, weaving around the stereo space in concentric circles.
The first part is the longer of the two at 27 minutes. It has moved from its initial theme emphasis on metal by the time half its duration has passed, and around the 18 minute mark we are treated to the taps, clatters and murmurs of desk ornaments periodically disturbed by wind and contact vibrations. These are followed by contacts sounds with a particular pleasant 'boing' that suggests a large spring or pipe. There is also something that I can only describe as the sound of a 'euphoric' engine; the whirr of an engine with a comforting, consonant drone somehow tucked inside of it.
In the second part, we hear metal objects clatter to the ground repeatedly some distance away from us, and an uneven but insistent hum that could have come from any number of electrical devices. Flanged whirring recalling conveyor belts and helicopters swirl about the soundspace until a gestural pop silences them with a surprisingly shrill squeaking harmonic. Occasional one has the sense of being inside a submarine, surrounded by active equipment.
Though this album is solely composed of the sounds of civilization, Tim Olive and Alfredo Costa Monteiro do not make any attempt to structure these sounds in any way that could be considered rhythmic, musical or indicative of human emotion. Rather, they let the sounds speak for themselves, so as to hone our attention to these oft overlooked elements of our environment. I find this to be a worthy goal, so I appreciate this aspect of the album.
In conclusion, if you have any interest in re-examining the sound of civilization and machines in a closer way, check out "33 Bays". There's some wonderfully recorded stuff here, and it's a successfully thematic piece. The sound is a bit sharp and abrasive, but never grows tiresome due to the constant introduction of new sounds and textures. Highly recommended.