#davidfirst

David First has always been restless, willing to follow his muse to any corner of his brain. So of course Volume 2 of his Same Animal, Different Cages series is a radical sonic leap from the first. That one featured utterly original takes on solo acoustic guitar, while this finds First mauling a Korg MS-20 synth until it generates repetitive figures that drive right into your cranium (the first track, in fact, consistently makes my tinnitus ring in a tone I’ve never heard before).

Yet Vol. 2 matches its predecessor in how First structures sounds and plays with the concept of time. Both records revel in repetition, but are far from automatized - more like the mantra-beats of an audible human heart. Maybe you can’t hear First’s hands on the instrument the way you could on Vol. 1, but his firing Korg manipulations have a lot of breath and sweat in them, especially considering how bracing they are. It’s easy - and fun! - to let Vol. 2 drill into one side of your skull and out the other without resistance in between. But let it sit in your neurons too and you’ll find a lot of surprises inside these unsurprisingly great concoctions.

– Marc Masters

DAVID FIRST on Same Animal, Different Cages Vol. 2

Tears

Not mine, but others’. Went to a wake a couple days ago. Saw a bunch of people I don’t see often enough. That happens, I guess. Too many of us to stay constantly connected. But it’s a lovely energy when those kinds of connections return. There’s things to talk about and share about how you’ve been and really mean it. Not like when you see someone at a party or show. Those kinds of encounters can usually be satisfied with a head nod or a “what’s up”. This was different. At these kinds of things you can even renew a connection that you never really had previously. A kind of bonding takes place when you’re in a room with a body, I reckon. No time for pettiness or reservation. Or looking at your phone. Although, I confess I snuck away and did so a couple of times. Had to—other things going on, though not for a lot of the people there. Family, sig others, etc. There was a sweet feeling in the air even though this was a tragic shock. I talked to his mother. She seemed nice—talked more than I would’ve been able to I think. Standing there asking me questions, maybe mistaking me for someone else—another friend of his but I didn’t care it didn’t matter. We were connecting. It was probably the worst day of her life and she was talking to me. She was exalted through her grief. A queen. And I was just a passerby who gave her my ear and tried to say something that would comfort but what the hell could that ever be? Then she was gone. Something that would’ve been rude under any other circumstances but all is forgiven in this one. I was impressed that she talked to me at all. We all went out after to a restaurant he was always trying to get some one of us to go to. It was fun and we had fun and we ate and laughed and talked. Not too much about him, but it was all about him of course. We did toast him and took a photo so we could have a concrete memory to share. Hugged a lot of people I’d never met before. That’s an interesting dynamic. Four of us got in our car (it was out of town by a couple of hours) rode home talking about him and what to do to honor him and we talked about psychedelics. Had some more laughs, got out in front of my apt and into the coldest night of the year so far. Things are dark and getting darker. And we need more light but a bright one just burned out.