Zomes – S/T
As the year comes to an end, most of my CD buying focuses on stuff I’ve missed over the years. I usually hit the used place a couple times to see if some of the stuff over the last 12 months have hit their shelves in time for holiday thriftiness. Occassionally however, I managed to stumble on something I should have picked up and failed to. This is the case with Zomes. Man I really fucked this up. I should have been on top of this, and I wasn’t and boy are my ears mad at me.
I caught Zomes, the solo project of Asa Osbourne, best know for his work in Lungfish, last Friday night. He set up a tape player hooked up to a bass amp and a Casio keyboard run through some effects peddles into a combo amp. The shit was loud. I mean loud as Lungfish used to be. And despite the change up in instrument, it was just as hypnotic and meditative as Lungfish. The instrumental pulsating waves over the thunky, desolate beats was mesmerizing and trans-formative in a way that so little music is. The sparse crowd mostly dispersed as Asa calmly sat in front of his machines, but his monk like presence seemed little disturbed by the reaction. Much like Lungfish, if you don’t get it you won’t get it until you get it. And you may very well never get it.
As for Asa’s solo debut offering, it’s a low-fi affair, replete with sixteen far too short tracks. The quality and brevity leave a bit to be desired. It has always been repetition on these amazing notes that has made his work so lovable, but I feel like for the most part these songs are just a taste, self edited by an unsure artists branching out into new territories. But no one makes music like Asa on this planet, and I suspect in the universe and so the songs could due with a little more time on them. But it is a joy and a treat to have this music. To feel this musical language again, and now transformed into new sounds and pulses. It’s the dialect of a native tongue and I couldn’t be happier to hear it once more.
There may never be another Lungfish album, and the world is that much darker because of it. But in that void, that dense and empty space, collapsing upon it self, Zomes offers some comfort, the repetitious lull, the overwhelming calm, the changing shapes through time and space.