€25,00
out of stock
why we love this
A slow-motion somersault through a boggy terrain of dubby percussive marshes and fluttering strokes of hazy sunlit sound.
about the record
Brian Leeds's (Huerco S) West Mineral label presents a groggy Midwestern ambient doozy with Chat, the first collaborative release by Pontiac Streator and Ulla Straus. Their first album together is a bedroom-crafted confection where drowsy blues and raga smudge with lounging exotica themes in a blunted style to properly heavy-lidded effect.
Chat was recorded on July 5th in Pilsen, Chicago on Ulla's bed after a long week spent dancing with friends, staying up all night, typing in chat rooms, and hate-watching Fox News. The results channel that experience into four lop-sided creations that feel satisfyingly burned out and immersive, like the murmur of zonked chat between close friends.
In four parts - "Chat One" through "Chat Four" - the record unfurls with a muggy mid-fi tension between its illusive fidelities, kindling a smoky atmosphere that colors listening spaces with seductive smells and a muggy, keening tension that recalls the minutes before sundown.
- A1 - Chat One 5:54
- A2 - Chat Two 4:55
- B1 - Chat Three 8:48
- B2 - Chat Four 5:03
€25,00
out of stock
- A1 - Chat One 5:54
- A2 - Chat Two 4:55
- B1 - Chat Three 8:48
- B2 - Chat Four 5:03
why we love this
A slow-motion somersault through a boggy terrain of dubby percussive marshes and fluttering strokes of hazy sunlit sound.
about the record
Brian Leeds's (Huerco S) West Mineral label presents a groggy Midwestern ambient doozy with Chat, the first collaborative release by Pontiac Streator and Ulla Straus. Their first album together is a bedroom-crafted confection where drowsy blues and raga smudge with lounging exotica themes in a blunted style to properly heavy-lidded effect.
Chat was recorded on July 5th in Pilsen, Chicago on Ulla's bed after a long week spent dancing with friends, staying up all night, typing in chat rooms, and hate-watching Fox News. The results channel that experience into four lop-sided creations that feel satisfyingly burned out and immersive, like the murmur of zonked chat between close friends.
In four parts - "Chat One" through "Chat Four" - the record unfurls with a muggy mid-fi tension between its illusive fidelities, kindling a smoky atmosphere that colors listening spaces with seductive smells and a muggy, keening tension that recalls the minutes before sundown.
