Amidst the usual flurry of new releases, reissues, record store bin surprises, and mixcloud and bandcamp streams, one record has returned to my turntable again and again since its release last year: Guitars Tuned to Air Conditioners by Tim Rutili and Craig Ross.
I admit I don’t really know about Craig Ross beyond this project, although his resume looks quite respectable. I have been a fan of Rutili’s work in Red Red Meat and Califone, among his other projects.
I realized recently that the real pull of this record is the escape it offers from all the noise of today. With the constant digital bombardment of social media, email, news alerts etc, I’ve found myself increasingly drawn to instrumental music. Language seems increasingly suspect, as facts are mutated and exploited, or simply ignored, in the ever-growing cacophony of discord and acrimony in our popular and political culture. This record provides an antidote to the exhausting compulsion to monitor the news for signs of the turning point, the moment we realize our surreal nightmare is finally going to come to an end. Alternately claustrophobic and expansive, the music provides an escape — you can almost feel the scratchy motel bedcover beneath you as you hear the air conditioner crank up to insulate you from the heat outside. With a long multilayered track to each side, the mind wanders, while periodically dipping back in to the music — I often get to the end of the record not realizing I’ve ended up somewhere very different from the moment I put the needle down. It’s always over before I’m ready to return. The title would indicate a more industrial sound, which isn’t entirely true — despite the mechanical origins, each track manages to have a subtle organic appeal, revealing new elements slowly as the landscape shifts imperceptibly underneath.
Despite the ethereal nature of the record, it is tethered to the substantial plane; the physical package is another lovingly crafted piece from Jealous Butcher records, as part of their Hired Hand series. Like many of their releases, you can feel someone else’s hands on each record, feeding that jones that those of us who fixate on physical media can’t really explain to the uninitiated. Rutili’s work often incorporates a visual component, as evidenced by his photography and film work. Each of the 275 original copies comes numbered in a hand-screened cover, which also contains a 10″ print of a photograph. Of course, it’s also available digitally, so never fear!