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Cassette
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DC 976CS
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Cassette version. "On Stash, the absolutely energy-drenched second album from BCMC, the guitar and keys duo soars through waves of pleasant rhythmic turbulence on the way to show listeners just what they got. Needle down: increased activity dubs and baubles the sonic surface of BCMC's Stash planet. Waves from Arabian, Indian, Flamenco and Soul groove in alliance under the expanse of an all-world flag, representing a borderless pursuit of cosmic music moments in the hand, of/by/for all the people of folk, rock and jazz, psych, west coast psych, prog, DIY, experimental, traditional, programmatic, impressionistic, liturgic, electric! Maybe it's in the DNA between Cooper Crain on organ and synth and Bill MacKay on guitar -- BCMC's groove-based understanding/space-based alignment of purpose is two-headed (four-handed) intuition in music, aurally forming whenever playing, composing, improvising, or all the above. Stash is part guitar and keyboard recital, part unbridled electroacoustic assembly of spontaneous international deep and wide sounds. Happening between them, somehow. Like the time: guitar and keyboard pushing, then pulling back in space. The sound of two people agreeing on this. Patterns emerge, units form, and then, we feel BCMC alive in the wide-open air of the room. Also in Stash: written things, shorter strands, riffs, prog/funk/church organ breaks, psychedelic blues-rock soloing on synth. Echoes of Floyd/Doors/Deep Purple/Iron Butterfly/Velvets/Can wove into a jangly nest, then trembled with an occasional British folk peregrination. Insistent chord/rhythm discovery: jam it out. Having taped, take a second pass in places. Improvisation, layers, inner-player dialogues revolve the flow, open it up. Drop the needle down into Stash anywhere. You find one sonic widescreen or another in time. Vivid, judiciously-tripped minimalist songs; tropical soundtrack capacity and time, horizons and water flown in from the border, fine frontier and mellow high. Stash was recorded on half-inch 8-track tape by Greg Norman at Electrical Audio, then recorded more and mixed to 1/2" 2-track tape at Sweat Loge by Cooper and Bill. Stash's different textural feel is down to wondering about, then dialing details in the sound, getting good signal in a few good spaces with a few new (old) machines in the chain. And in the mix, not a digital module was stirring: Stash is straight AAA, student!"
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LP
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DC 976LP
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"On Stash, the absolutely energy-drenched second album from BCMC, the guitar and keys duo soars through waves of pleasant rhythmic turbulence on the way to show listeners just what they got. Needle down: increased activity dubs and baubles the sonic surface of BCMC's Stash planet. Waves from Arabian, Indian, Flamenco and Soul groove in alliance under the expanse of an all-world flag, representing a borderless pursuit of cosmic music moments in the hand, of/by/for all the people of folk, rock and jazz, psych, west coast psych, prog, DIY, experimental, traditional, programmatic, impressionistic, liturgic, electric! Maybe it's in the DNA between Cooper Crain on organ and synth and Bill MacKay on guitar -- BCMC's groove-based understanding/space-based alignment of purpose is two-headed (four-handed) intuition in music, aurally forming whenever playing, composing, improvising, or all the above. Stash is part guitar and keyboard recital, part unbridled electroacoustic assembly of spontaneous international deep and wide sounds. Happening between them, somehow. Like the time: guitar and keyboard pushing, then pulling back in space. The sound of two people agreeing on this. Patterns emerge, units form, and then, we feel BCMC alive in the wide-open air of the room. Also in Stash: written things, shorter strands, riffs, prog/funk/church organ breaks, psychedelic blues-rock soloing on synth. Echoes of Floyd/Doors/Deep Purple/Iron Butterfly/Velvets/Can wove into a jangly nest, then trembled with an occasional British folk peregrination. Insistent chord/rhythm discovery: jam it out. Having taped, take a second pass in places. Improvisation, layers, inner-player dialogues revolve the flow, open it up. Drop the needle down into Stash anywhere. You find one sonic widescreen or another in time. Vivid, judiciously-tripped minimalist songs; tropical soundtrack capacity and time, horizons and water flown in from the border, fine frontier and mellow high. Stash was recorded on half-inch 8-track tape by Greg Norman at Electrical Audio, then recorded more and mixed to 1/2" 2-track tape at Sweat Loge by Cooper and Bill. Stash's different textural feel is down to wondering about, then dialing details in the sound, getting good signal in a few good spaces with a few new (old) machines in the chain. And in the mix, not a digital module was stirring: Stash is straight AAA, student!"
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LP
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DC 866LP
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"Moments of eternity: the first plucks at the strings, a bass note cementing the drift into place a little more than a minute in. The organ drones, iterating unrelivable ancient history, a chiming note of the church. Guitar strings, climbing that stairway to heaven. Gossamer-light when viewed from a distance; up close, the gears grind with a visceral physicality. With BCMC, Cooper Crain and Bill MacKay unite to create Foreign Smokes: provocalogues, equal parts avant-garde noir and fire-and-icy jams to recall bright shades and warm stretches of infinity drawn through the buzzy overdrive of this side of life's strange and sunny days. Cooper's organ and synths and Bill's guitar draw songs from spontaneous statements and elegiac scraps, floating closer, then farther, and closer again to the sounds of the other. Starting with a melody, a set of progressions or even as little as a scale or just a key, gives room for either one of 'em to take the lead, depending on where they are or are going at any given time. The reigning motif most often seems to be, to melt and wind around each other's sound, part of a singular undulation, handed back and forth, a slowly emerging trip up into and through an ideal of exuberance. As BCMC beam through the universe, their light intersects with yours, creating a new arc. Every turntable they spin upon becomes a new prismatic stream; every bud blooming in ears across the known plane, another voicing. Every resonance, every redolence -- hushed and encompassing, prayerful yet omniscient, intimate and universal -- Foreign Smokes!"
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