Chayed Out, Jamboys

Leaf Blower Epidemic

Sometimes I imagine sound as a spectrum with music as one limit and silence the other. Everything else – conversation, rural and urban ambiance, leaf blowers – exist somewhere in between.

To exist – to hear – exclusively at both limits might be bliss. Or suffocatingly lonely. But we ingest the full spectrum, which I suppose makes every sound an amalgamation of music and silence.

Theoretically, there is no such thing as silence, right? Every sound, even perceived silence, roars as compared to a smaller resonance or heightened listener. Should I have been a physicist? Should I smoke less weed?

Best for last:

Deep Cuts, Francois


The only distance between Revin Goff and The Growlers is geographic. Ireland to California, they’re all singing the blues. Goff’s winnebago jangling sound makes excellent use of electronic leaps and bleeps. The Growlers on the other hand, sound as if they lived in an attic, recycling the sounds of 1972, concocting a chemistry of sounds for today’s ears and tastes.

What appeared to be a sonic gulf – a lonesome kid behind a laptop and melancholic balladeers – is bridged by the reservoir of the Internet. Blues, we recognize them when we hear them.