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Artist
St. Gregory Orange
12+ albums
about
Maybe this could have been a comic book. Only I'm no Adrian Tomine, no Daniel Clowes. Or maybe a Vincent Gallo indebted, slow-pan encumbered short film, crowned with self-conciously lengthy dry-tounged dialogue that tries ever so hard not to progress the narrative or anything as worthy as that. Only none of my friends'd hold the camera straight. So it is a record. A Kind-Of-Pop record. A Document too (and "there, I said it. I said the Dee-word"). A collage of a few things that happened and far more that probably didn't. I can't really remember. It was years ago. So it is A Kind-Of-Pop-Doctronica record. Full of ghosts, and half-remembered, half-slurred apologies for some things that probably didn't matter in the first place, and for some things that maybe didn't even happen in the first place. Maybe that sounds self indulgant. I think it probably does, dosen't it? Ill try do this a little more coherantly. Months ago, maybe a year, maybe more, I made some music for my friends who were shooting a film. I started to piece together compositions, using swatches of treated guitars, manipulating the recordings on my computer, reverb-to-eleven kinda deals, creating drone beds and things, the kind of thing that Wire Magazine might enthuse about. I became obsessed with creating these little film scores, and continued making them long after I'd ruined my friend's film. I quit my job and spent whole nights at the computer. I was preoccupied with sound manipulation, accumulating a trag
