I have recorded 15 years of noisy, droning, m2 music

For 15 years, I have recorded noisy, droning music under the name m2.

Okay, it’s actually been longer than that. Recording music of this sort long pre-dated the m2 project. It even pre-dated owning a four-track recorder. I used to own one of those old twin-deck cassette stereos with a turntable on top. One day I discovered that if you plugged headphones into the mic jack and dubbed a tape from one deck to the other, you could kinda sorta play with the tape and have it record layers on top of one another. It was messy and ugly, but it worked. You could layer music.

So I promptly took a cassette I had — I remember what it was, too; a dub of R.E.M. with “Green” on one side and “Document” on the other — and recorded 45 minutes of guitar feedback. Then I did it again. And again. And again. All on the same tape. Probably five or six times. Each time layered along with the other layer. Each time the tape was more worn and distorted, but sure enough the sounds laid on top of one another and I ended up with an epic blanket of sonic bliss.

I lost that tape many years ago.

And I sure do regret it.

But it tells you where my mind was all those years ago. Even before I discovered bands like Flying Saucer Attack, Azusa Plane, Mogwai, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and others,. I had a thirst for music that sort of filled up the room with sound yet lacked the hooks and form and structure that defined traditional rock music. So I recorded it myself.

It came to a head in 1998, when I released from seven fields of vision. I figured no one would ever like this junk (and I remain mostly right), but I did it for me, so I was pleasantly surprised when some college station in Phoenix picked it up and a few scattered positive comments came in. Cool!

Nonetheless, I put the project on the backburner. For nine years. Sure, I recorded, but didn’t think much of it or do anything with it. Then, in 2007, during a difficult time, all this stuff poured out of me and I posted eight times alone to the Internet. The record was cathartic. It might sound like noise to you, but for me it was pure release. Those songs mean something to me.

It kickstarted something.

Since then, I have regularly plugged in my guitar (LOUD) and recorded ugly soundscapes of overloaded guitar when I have something to get out of my system. For me, records like Dying Mother and Ashes and The Endless Twelve actually mean something to me. I know few people listen. Some do. It may be surprising to learn that there are a few hundred dedicated downloaders for each record (and THANK YOU!), but that’s not why I do it.

It has been 15 years this year since I put a name on it. I expect I’ll be doing it for 15 more.