A Snowfire Not Born(e) Again is a kind of myth lingo that maps new forms, like constellations in the skywe didn’t know were there before. A mysterious familiarity pervades Matthew Goethe’s first book. It has to do with traces of things,
forgotten histories lingering invisibly in a small Southern town. What happens when you walk the whispering streets and tap on lamp
posts with an old stick? Symbols recur in the alleys, on the oak branches, in the mind, through language. Goethe has assembled a
compelling catalogue of these impressions, a sculpted litany of questions for reality.
These are phonics set out to pasture, free ranging, disowned, untethered from association. You’ve heard this one before?
Listen closer...critters slip up the unused part of your consciousness to gnaw on your house and cry.
Such is this fever. ‘Tis the season.
Hear the song with several other songs within. That is the delight of letting these words ring through your head.
This here is a kaleidoscope ever unfolding new ways to encounter what we thought we knew by heart.
Matthew Goethe is a poet living in Atlanta, GA. A Snowfire Not Born(e) Again is his first collection of poems to be published
in book form. Alternate versions of some of these poems can be found in his sound work as Double Vanities, on the album
How Come Your Sister Doesn’t Know My Name Anymore, also released by Sweet Wreath.
Tape / Digital
Live at the Structure is the debut release of Leisure Knots, a group spread across
North Carolina and Virginia who have slowly been building a site-specific and
texturally focused language together.
Read a sweet review from Noise Not Music
The album consists of five improvisations recorded during spring 2019, delivered through gatherings
in yellowed millhouses, wooded ranches, and friends’ living rooms. The character of any specific performer
is subdued in favor of a sort of environmental feeling-through which aims to reconstitute and then haunt its scenery.
Incidental, environmental, and intentional sounds were allowed to freely mingle: prepared field recordings
and saxophone swells mix with the diegetic whine of reel-to-reels, creaking of chairs and birdsong from the
front yard. Familiar domestics mutate into melted corridors and foaming gardens, possessed by the recording
process. These tracks vent the soft glow of their homes through an open window and into an unearthly outside.....
"Something we've all been feeling about this music is that it has a function of domestic re-enchantment
for us, like, it defamiliarizes and haunts all the different spots we played in. We've joked about it being a
"gothic record" in the way the music seems to possess and channel these architectural settings."
- Ian Schlup