This release is a standing proof of the greatness of a genre, which is often blamed for being diluted by an infinite number of artists on their home computers.
With only three tracks, and clocking just under half an hour, this release brings forth a potpourri of haunting sounds, the darkest of ambients, drones, shrieks, and beeps.
With the sheer amount of music released every second, this testament to the remarkable side of noise might get lost to time, only to be occasionally remembered by the participants themselves. But such is always the nature and risk of music. This is especially true for noise music genres. The constant fate of extreme, independent, and experimental releases that have little to no mass appeal to begin with.
At the end of the day, it is up to each and every one of us to make sure that the music we love is not overshadowed by the passage of time. The artists, the labels, the listeners, the people sharing links online, we each do our tiny part in appreciation and preservation. It's a delicate ecosystem, and we hope that our work on bringing forth "3" is nurturing enough for you to keep on flourishing.
Releases like "3" face constant risk of being lost to algorithmic noise. By writing about, sharing, and archiving these works, listeners become active participants in experimental music preservation. Every stream, download, and blog mention acts as evidence that this corner of the underground exists. If you create avant-jazz, drone, HNW, or noise rock, we want to hear it. Read our guide, then hit us up for a spot on our split series. The ecosystem survives only when we each do our tiny part.
Unlike solo albums, splits foster direct dialogue between artists. They are the most accessible entry point for listeners new to depressive blackened noise or electroacoustic improvisation. They require no expensive studio time, only the willingness to share space with another artist's vision.
