As the second anniversary of this classic album approaches I feel it my duty to remind you of it's existence. Receiving Calls by Thanet deserves to be recognised as one of the best things released over the last five years, at least...maybe 10 (or 20, what does it matter?).
And why not celebrate a 2nd anniversary? It seems absurd, perhaps, when traditionally at least five should pass before a recording merits the anniversary status. Or in Dubstep, five months, but that's another matter. As befits the modern world, time is shrinking, especially in relation to music. Was it last week that you downloaded the complete Merzbow for nothing, or last year? When was that album by Luc Ferarri (which you also downloaded for free) released anyway? '67? '61? '51? Eh? No time to even register the title in the digital gold rush.
Never mind celebrating two years, how about two minutes? Hold on, is that possible? I suppose so, if you wrote a review at 12.02 on the day of a release. But that would be silly.
Surfing for words about Receiving Calls I didn't find many, which struck me as criminal (well, tragic, at least). Why wasn't this set hailed and written about by everyone interested in modern electronic music? Why, also, wasn't it one of my Albums of the Year for 2011? Did I create a list for that year? Can I find one? Am I real, or just a detached digital voice?
The reason I haven't mentioned this album before is because although I recall seeing the sleeve two years ago I didn't give it a listen, or listen properly. Just yesterday, however, 'By Day And By Night' cropped up on a comp, so I investigated, time-travelled, if you like, all the way back to 2011, where I found this 21-track epic of absolute splendour. Mordant Music, of course, although I'm not sure if this is The Baron's work, or someone else.
Two tracks deserve a special mention; 'Submit I.Q.' for its sustained mood of twilight on the beach just after The Bomb, and '1932 Nightmare', where a single bass note becomes swamped by reverse-tape old-time radio orchestration (The Caretaker made nightmarish) evolving into 'The Sun Has Got His Hat On' (which was recorded twice in 1932) before another, electronic passage.
There's enough radiophonic-ethereal-electronic-waveform wonderment on the beach of washed-up transistorised transmissions here to last you a very long time...as you wander the digital shoreline...your feet lapped by all manner of sonic goodness. If, like me, you missed it first time 'round do investigate.