Goaty Tapes is a great example of how a record label is not and should not be simply identified with the money-grubbing of either the world of the major label or the "underground" hype machine which turns enough profit by selling packaged "authenticity" and "edginess" to keep up the coke habits and boutique-chic wardrobes of their proprietors. A record label can be a way of working with other people to realize an aesthetic vision, a creative process, a perverse fantasy that you find mutually exciting and a platform to build relationships with others on that basis. The label, no less than the product itself or the audio on it is a work of art, not one to be passively consumed in a gallery but rather an artistic creation which does something, which opens up a creative space that wasn't there before, inviting artists of all kinds out of the margins into new clearings for wierdness, dis/comfort, and possibility.
Here's a few tapes that caught my eye from some of the newest batches of what Goaty is currently hawking; for a full selection here, once again, is the website. My overly verbose "this is clearly just a way of procrastinating on my thesis"-style commentary is below.
Bananahead
Sunshine pop for an overcast day at the beach. Shimmery and reverb-drenched guitar melodies shuffle along with an endearing absence of regard for anyone else’s schedule as the distant voice of a wizend melancholic narrates your journey down someone else’s memory lane from the comfort of his residentially-converted airplane hanger. Unrepentantly weird, yet too suffused with pretty hooks and sentiments not to merit multiple listens.
Solo project of Heather from Social Junk wandering on a Peyote-drenched adventure through the drone desert on a cool night illuminated by the light of the full moon. Creeping drones and far-off loops form a sweetly eerie soundscape as Heather’s viscous vocal chants patiently light up the soundscapes with some well-placed affects of a…human.
Darkly haunted pop played on a much-too-old jukebox in a dimly-lit, smoky dive bar (location: Nowhere, OK) as Ian Curtis does a bump off Lou Reed’s erect penis. For fans of uber-baritone jangle-goth everywhere, this is some charming shit.
THIS IS BUT A TASTY TASTY TASTE...GET THE WHOLE MEAL AT www.goatytapes.com!!!
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