#og23

Drumm originally posted these multi-dimensional meanderings on his Bandcamp page in 2022. The transitory emanations are singular within his extensive catalog, and thus the sounds begged for a physical release. Enter Christoph Heemann with his Streamline label and the mastering expertise of Drumm’s longtime pal Jim O’Rourke: the ghost in the machine is now alive and it has scratched its sinister signature into vinyl.

Situating any new release within Drumm’s oeuvre is an arduous task. Between his overflowing Bandcamp catalog and his physical output, he has hundreds of releases. Drumm’s vast body of work is also a multi-dimensional continuum, morphing based on his chosen tone generating apparatus. He delivers barely perceptible hum as seriously as he does meditative drones, agitated mechanical clatter, and punishing harsh noise.

Drumm can be withholding regarding the genesis of the material he releases, and this is the case with OG23. It’s clear, however, that he’s harnessed electrons to do his bidding. The tones slide around like multi-hued oil droplets on water or condors drifting on atmospheric air currents. Sounds enter the field of perception, alter course, and then disappear like whisps of vapor. As one element vanishes, more appear. Mid and low-register swarms provide a scaffold-like hum, like a fleet of airplanes performing a flyby or the rumble of a distant factory.

OG23 resembles aleatoric or generative music in the way its tones worm around and vanish. Drumm’s established a sinister calculus and dialed in the parameters. The fractalized patterns use his framework to writhe and take on new forms. Each of the side-long pieces corrupts Drumm’s algorithm with its own unique mutation. On the A side, a flock of robotic birds explores the Starship Enterprise engine room, whereas on the flip, the passerine beings search for home within the humid air of a subterranean cavern. Drumm is the mastermind behind both scenes, reveling in the strange harmonies he’s set in motion.