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With a detached curiosity, Grant Evans drops us into his petri dish of mud, bacteria, and fetid slop. At first, we have no roadmap to the drowning noise that slowly trickles down the throat and presses against the ear drums; but Evans is no sadist. Yes, volatile coagulations and conflagrations abound with malaise at the beginning to each of the side-long works to Brittle -- itself a vibrant landmark in the Evans' rhizomatic back catalogue that slips through harsh wall noise, kosmische explorations, dronologist collage, and the like. But upon the discharge of that initial shard of tooth and blood, Evans tempers the atmospheric pressures and illumines a path by which to proceed. Beacons of monochord guitar. Radiant dispersions of glare and trill. Compacted bowed metal resonance. Interstitial ecological sounds from water, bird, and tree. Exhumed cassette minimalism. And a gasping, pulsing, morphing drone that bends around each of these sound objects. Such is the vivid unfurling of Brittle -- a meticulous and wondrous bricolage of the exploded organic. Parallels to be found in Chalk, Organum,Toniutti, and Grzinich.
Grant Evans hails from the northeast corner of Georgia, from where he has produced an impressive array of works under various aliases and in collaboration with his wife Rachel. Together they had run the now defunct Hooker Vision imprint, whose curatorial vision was unmatched in their discovery of unknowable projects from the margins of the global cassette underground. Currently, they maintain a smaller cottage industry Adversary, solely dedicated to their own projects.