grouper raze liz harris makes what must be some of the loneliest sounding music in the world. over the past decade and a number of albums and EPs, layers of effects and sonic gauze have been stripped away a little at a time to finally reveal her voice naked and untouched. and i still can barely understand a word she's singing. instead of being a distancing thing, it has the effect of forcing you to inch closer until you realize you might as well be listening from inside her head. when a song comes along where it's easy to make out some of the words and you hear her sing something like "we build our own unfolding", it's a little startling. some people find this stuff boring and simplistic. i think it's beautiful and kind of hypnotic. yes, there are times when only intensity and unpredictability will hit the spot. but i think there's a time for quiet and stillness too. you can listen to "ruins" here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GJgXdSVFnJE 150723 ... raze i had a dream she was sitting in her kitchen on an old steel chair with a thin cloth back, balancing a dinner plate on her lap. she started tapping the plate with a mallet, creating a slow, insistent pulse. each strike generated a single note. it sounded like a glockenspiel stripped of its percussive properties and made to sustain for a long time. she stacked another plate on top of the first one, introducing two-part harmony. she was making a loop. there was something mesmerizing and devotional about it. she started to sing on top of the sounds the plates made. somehow she was able to layer her voice and harmonize with herself without using any effects pedals. i couldn't understand the words. maybe there weren't any. she placed a clear glass bowl on top of the plates. there were small depressions in the glass. i could almost imagine how they would feel beneath my fingers. she leaned forward and started singing into the bowl. her voice took on a muffled quality. it was darker. more mysterious. the way the bowl changed the tone of her voice was echoed by the way her face was reflected in the glass. she was a strange painting of herself. blurred and distorted. almost doubled. she stacked another plate on top of the bowl. it cancelled out the bowl's effect and made her voice clear again. even in my dreams, she makes music that doesn't sound like anything else. 211001 what's it to you? who go blather from