Alms is a solo project from guitarist Nathan Young, who I had previously been aware of due to his work in the psych-doom-ambient duo Ajilvsga. With Alms, Young sculpts minimal, slow-moving ampdrift that moves from hushed clouds of hypnotic buzz to heavier fields of low-fi metallic drone, and it's an intoxicating performance that's featured on this half hour long cassette. Taken from a live performance that was aired on an Albuquerque radio show in early 2011 (and split across the two sides of the tape), "Annihilation Of The Self" was apparently created primarily from Young's manipulation of a bowed amplified guitar soaked in thick, oily Metalzone style distortion. It's not at all like the Earth-style sludge-trance you might expect, though. The piece is more abstract and ambient, and after the first few minutes of minimal thrum begins to morph into a single monstrous hum that hovers and drifts slowly through a blizzard of hiss, the sustained buzzing tone stretched into infinity. That droning chord drops out for periods of time, leaving behind just a roaring wall of muted, washed-out static, and will then slowly fade back in from behind, slightly shifting into a very simple chord change that is barely perceptible at first, it's so buried beneath the maelstrom-like wall of fuzz. From there, Young slowly introduces other drones and textures, lower static humming and massive ominous chordal drift, washes of metallic flanged effects and deep speaker-rattling frequencies, even a few brief moments of Sunn O)))-like crush, but the sound continuously returns to the central, originating drone throughout the entire track, even as things begin to dissolve and crumble across the last half into smoldering fields of washed-out chordal buzz, and a ponderous bass pulse emanates from the depths in random bursts. It's pretty cool stuff if you're into this sort of crushing improvisational guitar drone/noise, and is recommended to fans of Vulture Club, Fulci, RST and the like. Those looking for form within their droning heaviness will not find it here, but for fans of pitch-black amp-stasis and crushing tectonic rumble, I recommend cranking this loud. The tape includes information regarding accessing a digital download of the recording, and is limited to fifty copies.