Constructed from field recordings and found sounds and mutated into collages further refined via live performances, Andrew Anderson’s latest album is a final construction of these elements that have gone through multiple stages of processing and abstraction. Although most (but not all) of the building blocks that make up Thresholds have been modified into something completely different, it is the times in which these identifiable sounds bleed through that make the record even more unsettling but continually engaging.
The field recording elements of Anderson’s work are apparent from the very opening of "Until My Blood Contains All" with squealing brakes cutting through open spaces, all surrounded by rain drenched in reverb. He blends in reversed shimmers, with the various sounds drifting between what sounds like environment, and what sounds like music. The overall looping structure enforces the latter, and a clear intensity increases throughout. Again, as a balance, Anderson joins fuzzy, crunching noise with some stretched, almost musical sounds slipping through. The piece clearly transitions from being environmentally focused to a structured, musical one. A gentle melody is extended under sputtering, collapsing sounds and fuzz drenched broken radio layers.
"All Devoured, All Begotten" features Anderson leaning not only more towards processed sounds from the onset, but also more aggressive ones. After an initial swell akin white noise, he brings in a resonating hum that acts effectively as a counterpoint. He does an excellent job with utilizing open space within the mix, introducing elongated, stretched sounds and what best resembles the metallic clattering of sheet metal. Movement and crunch cut through the introduction of the digital only piece "Caress of the Threshold," but the emphasis here is a bit more on the environments, albeit with a pleasant shimmer that fades into the background. Compared to what is on the LP, Anderson keeps things more consistent throughout, with fewer rapid changes but instead excellent development and growth in both sound and tone.
The full second side of the album is taken up by "Voice of Fire Come Through Me" (featuring Austin legend Thor Harris on dulcimer), and it begins sparsely, with backwards melodies allowing conventional musicality to slip through. Fuzzed out droning tones are blended with indistinct, but captivating textures. Transitioning tones and sounds of movement, along with random incidental noises appear. What could be a rainstorm passes slowly through and drifts off into cold, cavernous expanses. The remainder is an open space peppered with far off sounds and children’s voices, The frigid mix is mixed with scratching and sputtering noises, ending the album with a sense of dark hollowness.
The list of "instruments" on the back sleeve is a bit tongue in cheek, since almost all of them are sound sources more than anything else. Only occasionally does it seem like one of those noises can be heard. Anderson’s treatment and alchemical approach to what are largely incidental sounds makes for a disquieting, but deeply fascinating blend of familiar and unfamiliar that gets admittedly dark, but in the best way.
