Belong - October Language Carpark by Keith Boyd 7.25.6

Whenever I go abroad I always bring a short-wave radio with me. The short-wave can be many things. It can bring you Pygmy water drumming, British cricket scores and even some news from home. When I lived in Africa I spent many a night dialing in the sounds of the world from under my mosquito netting. in those deep hours of the night with billions of stars swirling from horizon to horizon, the radio transmissions took on a life of their own. Deep wells of bubbling static would morph and emit sine wave wailings. Hazy, scratching buzz would slowly become "Africa World Tonight" from the BBC and then it too would corrode into hiss. At times I'd tune into a signal and listen intently. After awhile of intense listening I'd being to discern some vocal inflections and patterns. Fifteen minutes in there would be a slight clearing and what I thought was English would turn out ot be German. this deep listening became a new way to hear. What at first was distracting and perhaps irritating now became integral and pleasing. These feelings were all brought back into my awareness while listening to the band Belong and their debut CD, "October Language" (Carpark Records).
Belong is a duo composed of Turk Dietrich and Michael Jones and while there are only two of them, the sound they generate is layered like an epoch of rocky strata. I would advise anyone listening to Belong to play it one of two ways. First is through headphones. There is so much going on in the music that a headphone listen is truly immersive. The stereo separation on the track, "Red Velvet or Nothing" Ping-Pong's through your brain and can be deliciously dizzying. The other method I would suggest is as loud as your stereo can handle. When played this way the room seems to fill with waves of crackling water. This effect is perhaps not entirely accidental as Belong are from New Orleans and recorded this disc in the wake of Katrina.
Although the disc is separated into songs I find the best listen is all the way through. Some sound worlds demand our undivided attention and this is one of those. To get an understanding of what's going on here imagine that a cheap transistor radio is playing a somber orchestral piece. The radio has been wrapped in mud encrusted gauze and is trapped in a patch of weeds with murky water flowing over it. You, the listener, wish desperately to hear what is coming out of the radio but currents are slowly pulling you in the opposite direction.
This is beautiful and unique music. It is wonderfully realized and rewards repeated listens. "October Language" is a slowly unfolding work with layers and surprises to keep one engaged indefinitely.