Photo by Samantha Gore

The five pieces on Baroo sound like a radio on the fritz after a damaging dip in the tub, skittering, jumping, and flipping through a couple of stations for a colorful symphonic cluster of schizophrenic tones. But that analogy leaves out just how well Stone ties together certain notes from the various sound streams. The past two collections of Stone’s pieces released on Unseen Worlds in the past few years, Electronic Music from the Seventies and Eighties and Eighties and Nineties, are intricate collections that have brought to light Stone’s forgotten recordings, resurfacing his name as one that should be at the front any discussion involving tape experiments.

Those collections and this fresh, new album, Baroo, are born from Stone’s experiments in slicing recordings, in attempt to, as Stone puts it, “articulate the intangible area between the recognizable and the unfathomable.” After parsing out whatever this could mean, there’s some warble to that barking, and if you’re intrigued by Stone’s pieces on face value, it’s most likely because of this little quip.

The main difference between those older collections and Baroo is the technology at hand which, obviously, is much different now than it was when Stone was making his experiments in the ‘70s. Far from a luddite, Stone dives deep into the generative Max/MSP world, something which also affords him a little flexibility live too. Like in the past Stone grabs just about anything he can get his hands on in terms of source material; his notable samplings include “Barbie Girl” or “My Girl”. On Baroo though, this feeling of Stone being able to imprint any recording with an embellished effect comes in with a fuller impact, creeping into every musical turn, probably a result of the less cumbersome technology. Stone shatters multiple recordings and reassembles them together for a shimmering effect. If the psychology of palilalia bemuses and intrigues you, this is gravy.