Dale Cornish
CD (E141)

Glacial was created as a response to a question that
had only been hinted at previously. Further responses
are being considered.

Born, raised and current of London (south).
No Bra (2004–6): co-wrote unexpected hit Munchausen.
Terse humour and observations/worldly interests further
evident with work of ecstatic noise trio Baraclough (2006–),
releasing debut album Hello Animal (2009) and subsequent
cassette-only releases. Current focus is on solo and
collaborative works and performances.

Glacial on Vimeo


See also
Dale Cornish (E240)
Dale Cornish (E215)
Dale Cornish (E190)
Dale Cornish (E171)
Dale Cornish (E156)
Out of print

Edition of 200 copies
Mastered by Jacques Beloeil

Photo by Eddie Nuttall


With Glacial, what you hear is what you get. There aren’t
any psychoacoustic properties, complex cross-rhythms or
submerged melodies hiding in these five stark rhythm
experiments. Londoner Dale Cornish has so stripped down
his rhythms that little seems to be left. You won’t even be
able to figure out what’s making the sounds. They could
be from a drum machine, heavy synth rig or some digitally
treated samples. Each piece consists of no more than three
or four different sounds, one or two rhythmic elements
repeated at a medium tempo with only the barest of treat-
ments. Glacial Pattern 5 is an isolated hi-hat texture,
a dead metallic splash disappearing into ripples of thin
reverb. Pattern 3 precariously balances four different
rhythmic elements, but might be the album’s most static
track. The closest these tracks get to swinging is Glacial
Pattern 4, which bangs like zombie hiphop — a shell of
rhythm, hollowed out and wandering with no mind. The
sparseness of these pieces — their sheer stubbornness
to do anything or develop anywhere — baits you into
looking for some concept that’s not there. The textures
and rhythms are so ascetic, I hesitate to even call them
beats. Still, Glacial fulfils one of the main criteria of dance
music, even though it will certainly never fill a dancefloor:
it’s functional, just in a domestic way. Glacial isn’t really
an album. Think of it as a strangely calming sonic clock,
something to put on to let you know that time passes,
even when you think its standing still.

Matt Wuethrich in The Wire