EDIT // April 5th, 2020
I can’t believe I’m writing this only now. I can’t believe the state I am writing this in. I hardly got around believing the state of the world around me as I’m writing this.
Original, intended date was February 15th, 2018.
I had a couple of impossible fucking years.
At the same time, my longest running project, Tearpalm, turned ten, then eleven, then twelve… thirteen now. “Thirteen years of carrion”, eh?
Now, not only that long-awaited new ‘proper’ album is here – and noticed by the few select friends and influencers not to mention a return to stage in various live outfits – but the entire saga of renewed enthusiasm, attempt at wider distribution online via DistroKid and its anticlimactic epilogue in abandoning the whole shitty Spotify/iTunes/Google Play and fuckload more useless fucking stores that won’t even allow you to title your tracks as you wish or lack even remotely relevant genre tags (ironically, only album ever sold through both Google Music and Apple Music in its entirety was album which was twice dismissed as ‘non-music’ by DistroKid and uploaded to stores after an extensive and excruciating e-mail exchange with their support. So, back to Bandcamp it is. And word of the mouth.
The way it always was supposed to be.
Now there were a few special releases (some of them in our free-download, ØØØ Edition), in my attempt to somehow represent properly a project so diverse and sometimes a subject to whimsy of its creator. Over the years, Tearpalm worked in the vein of bedroom-produced experimental stuff, now collected as first two albums released on CDs with Croatian DIY pioneer label Slušaj najglasnije, plus never before published tracks from the same period:
delving simultaneously into explorations of heavy drone ambient, featured on album Ghost Cumulus in Belgrade Night Sky (first released with Belgrade-based Ne-Ton, as a monolithic, single track, hour long piece with an exclusive remix), later split to movements and titled accordingly Seven Movements of Disquiet, as well as the early drone work Objections on Luminance of Things, released with Novi Sad-based Crime:Scene Records, plus a haunting piece Gorka krv, which was recently featured as as soundtrack in a surreal animated movie by an artist friend, collected in notoriously DistroKid-unfriendly Complete Drone Works (Bandcamp version has one bonus track for paid downloads, but is, in contrast to now unavailable all-other-stores version, short of tracks from possibly the grimmest ever offering by Tearpalm, Duh .418, released in 2017:
To conclude the series and to some degree complete the picture about the area of sound Tearpalm deals in, there were two (out of planned three) free for download compilations of never released live moments, remastered to the degree it was possible from indeed the wide selection of sources – from crappy 90’s camcorder and various photo cameras, to soundboard outs and audience recordings:
third part, a compilation of various live collaborations is TBA.
Well, there you go. As years slide, some jubilees slide through the cracks or under the silk of what is obvious, apparent… but it all did happen.
More on official releases eaten by the darkness and murk of my mental and creative life, s o o n.
oMD, Tearpalm // 93DOT93