ting ting jahe 18 (16)

ting ting jahe offers 8 tracks of fairly severe and testing work, realized by means we know not; perhaps shortwave radio signals, perhaps processed feedback, all recorded in Brooklyn in 2006. Like the CD title, the track titles are simply series of numbers - which could be anything from radio tunings used to generate the sources, or grid locations on a map telling you where they went to get the field recordings. Or they could be an encrypted message to send to the enemy, or simply a private notation scheme used like a diary.

We have at least two basic modes. One of them is very quiet indeed. Tracks 1, 3, and 8 for example, are virtually empty and about as quiet as hearing snowflakes being caught by blocks of foam rubber which have been conveniently left for that purpose in the middle of a huge frozen lake in a park. The images summoned while listening are so desolate that it's almost apocalyptic, as if we're wandering through a deserted city after the entire human race has been eliminated by poison gas. I've heard some silent records in my time, but what ting ting jahe are doing really raises the stakes. You have the impression of people whose very thought-processes are manifested as whispers. This record is also thankfully far removed from the pretentious milieu proposed by Francisco Lopez. Luckily, his reign of terror is coming to its end.

Second mode is noisier, but no less determinedly minimal. Remainder of CD is occupied with these compelling episodes of abstracted, grinding churns. I have no idea what processes are being used, but to make no mistake this is very highly processed work. Must be something about working with a laptop that compels you to work and rework soundfiles, simply because the software enables it. Track four certainly contains field recordings (you can even hear snatches of human voices), awash in a roaring ocean of tape hiss and crackle. the lovely track two could be at least three layers of radio crackle interleaved with two other sources or processes that tend to generate the sort of indefinable grey murk that clearly appeals to this sort of creator. track five is likewise surprisingly lush and sumptuous (as far as minimal sound art can be), with its patterns of tiny beeps and electronic purring which will keep you company like a virtual cat.

Take this record home and immerse yourself in it, submitting to the slow pace and its near-anonymous impenetrability. Accept the challenge of hearing new things in what may, at first, appear to be completely empty grey canvases. You may be as surprised as I was. Personally I keep returning to that bleak third track. I'm convinced there's something lurking in the midst of that suffocating, enveloping silence and I'm determined to find out what it is. After a while, I'll stop trying.

Ed Pinset 12/08/2007
the sound projector 16th issue 2008