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pedal steel warping in the mph

from sandhills music by Ben Seretan

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  • Small Run Scroll Cassette
    Cassette + Digital Album

    This small run of cassette tapes contains 57 minutes of weather, chimes, and sustained tones bundled in a *five-foot-long scroll* full-color printed with the project's associative writing—a flag unfurling, a curling text, a tangible embodiment of what we do online endlessly.

    Music dubbed and re-recorded on cassette tape literally swaddled in reams of meaning and held together with baker's twine.

    Lovingly printed and assembled by Tiny Showcase:
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about

birds of various unidentified types singing between weather events

cars rushing by at all hours, ATVs and motorcycles, too

from the cars there is the occasional muffled kick drum or if the windows are open there will be the chorus of a country song blowing by, pedal steel warping in the mph

one morning my girlfriend's mom demonstrated the dewy pop of tobacco that's ready to harvest - a leafy sound, not unlike ripping the bottoms of a washed bunch of greens

the tools of the field: tractors and lawn mowers and the beep of backing up trucks

for a while my girlfriend's dad rented an entire backhoe in efforts to rehabilitate the farm pond - there'd be the roar of its diesel, the various electronic screams of its warnings, the hefty plop of excavated mud.

then there are the smaller works - spades breaking ground in the garden, weeds being torn at their roots

the ancient neighbor wheeling around the lawn on his ride-on mower, something he's been doing for something like fifty years, see how he lifts his hat in his overalls to say hello

while observing (and for a brief moment using) the backhoe - especially in the evening - the incessant croaks of toads and frogs, rippling across the pond

the reassuring thump of an upright bass, bolstering an accompanying melody - were you to pass by the house at a few particular times there'd be my girlfriend's mom and I trying a few different harmonies on "Hey, Good Lookin'"

various home appliances whirling, doing their work while everyone else goes to sleep - low tumble, cold water wash, heat steam dry

voices in the other room - one of the more constant sounds, that of someone taking a phone call

out just a few steps from the garden is a ponderous bell up on a post left from the very first days of the farmhouse - the bell they used to call everyone to supper with, clang and heavy and rung by my girlfriend's niece and nephew when lifted up to it

the television - auto-playing recommended videos related to my girlfriend's dad's interest in woodworking or bopping along to jazzercise classes or a streaming music service left to its own devices, trying desperately to predict what we want to hear

words of prayer before tucking into a meal, sometimes as a motion gone through but other times profound

the various inner workings of the house - ceiling fans whirling around, how their chain pulls clink in rhythm against the glass of the sconces, bathroom exhaust fans, the creak of the occasional door hinge or window opening

the soft roar and gentle crackle of a back patio fire, smoke twisting and columnar, the creak and squeak of the deck chairs

phenomena experienced but never heard - the web of radio that is wireless internet and cellular communication, how life was (and how it sounded) when the various photographs lining the house were taken, the persistent, tender moans of the ghosts of a hundred-year-old building

credits

from sandhills music, released August 30, 2022

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Ben Seretan Climax, New York

**ECSTATIC JOY**

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