Tod Emel
Field recordings of movement through various public spaces with all of the incidental sounds of traffic and the bustle of bodies transition to a more intimate location. Here languid passages of electroacoustic tonal variation and machinic drones accompany Truchy’s uncomfortably close whispers. His mouth sounds and fragmented bits of speech function as a sort of faltering, obsessive retort to the outside world. Beautifully structured. Compellingly real.