The casino reveals itself to be a source of much more than free buffetsand cheap thrills on this unprocessed field recording that combinesVegas with Antiguan tree frogs, but the uncompromisingly raw format andlack of manipulation hold back my interest. Coleclough's recordingshave consistently amazed me with their exquisite processing andarrangement of sonic minutiae, drawing out the tonalities of metal,acoustic instruments, and nature sounds into epic, drone-based pieces.But that discography makes this record's simplicity even moredisappointing. Though it's well arranged—for a straight fieldrecording—I can't help but imagine what this could've been with alittle work. Coleclough has generally succeeded in exploiting thesimilarities and differences of natural and artificial sounds, and thatis the highlight of this recording. The first side of the LP, or tenminutes of the accompanying CD which extends and gradually mixes thetwo sides, is the pinnacle of casino gaudiness, with tinny slot machinejingles, ringing coins, and distant country music riffs. The slots growgrating before long, but luckily Coleclough knows when to move on. Therecording improves from there, especially on the CD version, as themusic gently transitions into the second part's ocean waves and frogs,whose chirping bears subtle similarities to the previous digitalcacophony. The frog sounds are nothing special and don't exhibit muchdevelopment. It's evidence that, given enough patience, listeningclosely to almost anything will reveal detail previously overlooked. Sowhile I like this record, it's not something I'll listen to very often,and the sparse, soothing sounds of ocean waves at the conclusion remindme of some bad "relaxation" tape. Casinois rather collector-oriented, released on a massive piece of vinyl inan edition of 400. I'd definitely advise anyone interested in doingsome serious listening to check out Coleclough, but start with one ofhis composed works, such as the excellent, and readily available, Period.samples:
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