Lo-fi surrealistic sound poetry from Melbourne. It’s like a experimental short story or a bonkers study in method acting, narrated in letters from the character “Matthew Revert” (pronounced “rev-Air”) to various people, mentioning the “late” character Darcy only occasionally. Everything’s done with voice and tape, using his low, half-mumbled speech as a surprisingly expressive instrument. Stream-of-conscious half-nonsense, frequent moments of brilliance. Hilarious, disorienting, eerie. I love everything about this. All bizarre and great, but favorites are 4, 5, 6, 8. Possible FCC on 2.

1. (5:12)—Low humming. Hesitating, highly repetitve, slow, jerkily rhythmic speech.
2. (3:45)—Possible FCCs, but he speaks so fast I can’t keep up with his words. Imitates the sound of a malfunctioning car.
3. (8:40)—Soft squeaking, air shaft sounds, lots of near-silence. “I was less than surprised today. Perhaps when I’m walking I should smile.”
4. *(5:05)—Cavernous reverb, like it was recorded in an underground parking garage. Talking about “the dance your parents did at Darcy’s wedding.” Lets out a minute-long, blood-curdling, demonic fit of laughter.
5. *(3:39)—Hissing sounds. I think he’s reading something in German, but really badly.
6. *(4:22)—Tea-kettle-like sounds. “The life of the party got lost in their own parade, and I write to you in the hope you might be convinced to help form a search party.”
7. (6:28)—Chugging factory-like noise in the background. Loud, clipping whooshing sounds. Hardly any words.
8. *(8:11)—Ruminations on memory. Long exhales. A yawn. Poorly feigned politeness. “I don’t feel like I know you personally anymore.” Half-muffled singing in the background.