CD-R

Kevin Drumm’s The Kitchen is stamped or stenciled with instrument credits in mock metal font. The idea is sounds around the house, filtered (electronically, intuitively) through this equipment, each instrument separated by a comma, like a list of programming instructions. You gaze at them and wonder how the puzzle all fits together. We will never know, but the spirit in which he puts them together is felt as a force.

Record player

I spent ages balancing this thing. The sound is fathomless with no gaps, a kind of quitely chaotic animal presence. It will continue spinning until there’s a power cut, and you measure the little moments of your life against an LP’s duration.

Headphone jack

The 3.5mm to 1/4″ adapter opens up an evening of sounds. Now I can plug in, heaphones clamped around my head, a direct channel to the vibrations of the spinning disc.

The record in question, Crowded by Kevin Drumm, is a quiet maelstrom of tones, seemingly ever-descending like an Escher staircase. It is an elegant hall of mirrors to get lost in. The symphony of noises that Drumm arranges has a lot of love in it, with balance, poise and depth, and every sound breathing. It is more powerful, elegant and towering than the spaces of everyday life.