I received an email at the beginning of spring from my friend Neal, notifying me that he had an album in the can and wondering if I’d like to write about it. Like all good writers, I didn’t want to do it; then I acquiesced, asking when it was due (“wouldn’t need until September”). I said to myself “Why did I agree to this, I’m a terrible writer.” Finally, I tried listening to it on my phone—sans headphones—right then, on the patio of a bar I frequent enough that I get greeted at the door with the nod. It’s a nice place—affordable bevs, excellent bar food, freak oriented. The patio itself is quite accommodating, providing more than enough space to keep to yourself which is a relief in this phase of existence, another plague year amid decaying systems.
While this location provides space, nice air, warmth, ashtrays, an inordinate amount of eye candy, and the occasional dog, it does not provide an ambience fit for listening to a recording on some tinny, overpriced, soon to be obsolescent device—that does a disservice to the nuances of a grand studio recording, and is ultimately useless when competing with a skadillion watts JBL speaker system blasting Discharge, or maybe Tucky Buzzard. However pounding the selection, I was able to tell that what I received was something resembling a drone record. “A drone record. This motherfucker. He could’ve sent me anything.” And like all good writers, I concluded my first draft with “well, September is months away.”
Something I truly admire about Neal, and why I did say “yes” to his inquiry, is that he really could’ve sent me anything. I met Neal somewhere around 10 years ago, but maybe it was 15 at this point. Neal interned at my then-place of employment, a recording studio in Chicago, but I don’t think I really “met” him there. My memory is not the best, so I feel like we met more gradually than formally. His enthusiasm for music, composition, and theory made him an affable and reliable figure in the Chicago aluminum rock scene. Neal has played in so many different groups and explored so many different angles and theories of sound. Primarily a drummer, Neal is equally capable on bass or guitar or just about any instrument he puts his mind to. He’s cunning and beguiling, showing equal enthusiasm and irreverence for artists like The Dead C., Bill Orcutt, and European improv collectives like I.C.P or Company as easily as he does U2, Rush, and Sammy Hagar. Half the time, I think “You can’t be serious,” when in reality it’s all deadly serious for Neal. It’s what makes him so compelling—he’s constantly searching for a thrill. I’ve seen the same enthusiasm when he’d be playing in Korean Jeans, Burn Permits, or Hungry Man as I have seeing him score a set of beat up roto-toms or an industrial sized tin of nacho cheese. It’s the type of behavior that inspires you to pick an abandoned alarm bell out of the gutter, clean it and leave it by his drum kit: “You might get something out of this.”
“Erosional /Depositional” isn’t just a ‘drone’ record. It’s Neal getting back home, back to composing. With Retreaters, Hungry Man and Korean Jeans either ending or going on break, Neal found some free time (time not occupied by Daddy’s Boy, Future Living, or Blank Banker) to kick a few ideas around the ol (Ni)block. The center of this recording, ‘Language Drifts,’ is an idea Neal has had for the last three years, based off a guitar tuning he enjoys (D-A-D-A-B-E; if I knew what that meant, I’d have a pithy statement like “drummers, man.”) Occasionally, Neal has tried this composition out with varying instruments—organ, voice, guitar—here, he employs a synth and two generators, with an intention of exploiting the studio, the very same place we both logged too many hours in nearly a decade ago. The gradual building of tones, physically moving from room to room until they meet their eventual decay, is a stark and somber sound, but this album isn’t morose; it’s full of movement, fueled by equanimity and grace. It’s a sound that sits kindly with the solitude of sunlight on a February afternoon in the midwest. “River 2A/River2” are similar pieces. They are not the rivers that have been plundered by Bruce Springsteen, or John Fogerty, or even the Reverend Green. Instead it is a river that leads us to and then away from the space that the central piece occupies—a river of flowing tone, of vibrating piano strings and guitar, shimmering and peaceful. This also speaks to Neal’s qualities—this is nothing I quite expected to hear from him, and yet I can hear every bit of passion and spark that drives him just as clearly here as I have when in the contexts of his rock-inspired projects. He’s still looking for a thrill, and I don’t think he’ll ever stop.
S.C. Sowley
August 2023
Oakland, California
credits
released October 3, 2023
Neal Markowski - piano, eBow, signal generators, modular synthesizer, tape loops, electric guitar.
Recorded/mixed at Electrical Audio February 20th, 2023 by Jon San Paolo and Neal Markowski.
Mastered at Chicago Mastering Service by Matthew Barnhart on March 22nd, 2023. Lacquers cut on March 30th, 2023.
Stampers made at Mastercraft, Elizabeth, NJ.
Records pressed at Palomino, Shepherdsville, KY.
Label design/artwork by Brian Case, Chicago, IL.
Bandcamp is unable to host the complete 24-bit 96k version of "Language Drifts" due to size limitations. If you would like the full lossless version, please message me after purchase.
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