Release date: 15 October 2023
180g Vinyl  + 10 page inlay + digital download
32 min.
limited to 300 hand numbered copies
core 024

• Various Artists, edited by Kristof Georgen
• Concept & production: Kristof Georgen
• Executive Producer: Wendelin Büchler
• Mastered by: Norman Nitzsche, Calyx-Mastering, Berlin
• Graphic design: Bureau Progressiv, Stuttgart
• Liner notes: Holger Lund
• © by the artists 2023
• Funded by Neustart Kultur / Stiftung Kunstfond

“The visual aspects of the album are almost worth the purchase alone, with the back cover and each artist’s notes which accompany their piece in the hefty booklet presented as redacted emails, prefaced by a concept-heavy but accessibly-written essay by art, design and music researcher, curator and DJ, Prof. Dr. Holger Lund (…). Yes, 60 Seconds Each is as close to everything all at once as is conceivably possible, and it makes for a truly mind-blowing hour, after which a period of silence with eyes closed is strongly recommended.”
— Aural Aggravation (USA)

” (…) the story of how this rather simple end product came into being is no ordinary one (…).”
— Field Notes (DE)

” (…) wir haben es mit KlangKunst zu tun, einem im Normalfall mit eher längeren und dramaturgisch komplexen Strukturen arbeitenden Sujet. Diese Komplexität auch in die ganz kurze Form zu bringen, das Klang-Kneten, -Samplen, -Verschränken, -Verwirren, -Entwirren, -Entspannen auf das Nötigste zu reduzieren (und dabei nichts zu verlieren) gelingt (…) verblüffend gut.
— Westzeit (DE)

“Ein Versehen, ein Zufall und eine Idee für ein Kunstwerk. Das sind die Zutaten für dieses Projekt. Man muss Kristof Georgen und den teilnehmenden Künstlern dankbar sein. Ihr Ideenreichtum lässt in 60 Sekunden ganze Welten entstehen und so können wir ein Klangerlebnis der besonderen Art hören. Die LP dazu ist ein Highlight.”
— Radiohörer (DE)

“(…) da sfigolii impercettibili, a brividi improvisativi, da canti spiritati montanari a sputi di rumore bianco, da spasmi di percussioni a sequenze ambient, da scivolamenti e scratch di giradischi a cut-up di sample spauriti, eccetera, eccetera. Qualcosa si potrebbe recuperare come librari music, altrimenti mah.”
— BlowUp (IT)

As the saying goes, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. In the spirit of this optimism, we have the cynical manoeuvring of disaster capitalism – but we also have 60 Seconds Each. Yes, to spin the adage, we have ‘when there’s a massive fuck-up, collaborate to release a compilation album.’

As the accompanying notes explain, ‘This LP was born out of a data leak: In 2022, the opening of the position of Professor for Sound Art at a German Art Academy attracted the applications of a broad, international panorama of sound artists. After the position was filled, the email rejection to all other applicants was sent by mistake by the university with an open distribution list (cc).

‘Kristof Georgen, one of the applicants used this mishap to develop a concept for a collective sound art project, inviting the artists included in the open cc to send a 60-second sound piece.

‘A group of 32 artist who were prepared to understand a record as a group work, followed the invitation – the result is 60 Seconds Each. The fragmentation of many music scenes during the pandemic, which still lingers today, is countered here with an artistic statement. This heterarchical approach transformed the application competition into an artistic cooperation which ultimately became a very diverse compilation, a one of a kind „Salon des Refusés“ of sound art. The time limitation of an LP and the restricting concept of 60 seconds stands as an antithesis to the unmanageable and boundless characteristic of the data leak.

This reduction to the essential determines also the visual concept of the release. Fragments of redacted email addresses of the participating artists, forming a cloud of unreadable data which merges into the background of the cover art are an essential part of the design. The 60-second grid also structures the vinyl groove into a strict visual pattern, which can be read as small chunks of each participating artist’s work.’

The visual aspects of the album are almost worth the purchase alone, with the back cover and each artist’s notes which accompany their piece in the hefty booklet presented as redacted emails, prefaced by a concept-heavy but accessibly-written essay by art, design and music researcher, curator and DJ, Prof. Dr. Holger Lund, who asks:

‘Can sound art be funny and ring 300 bells on 1200 stomachs? Can it be macrocosmic and reflect time, living beings and the future? Can it be micro-cosmic and dedicated to the sound of snowflakes or the beeps of e-scooters? Can it be prophetic and deal with dying instruments? Can it sonify non-sonic things like light, shadow and air? Can it turn techno beats “inside out”, that is left-field? And can it build a specific atmosphere and dramaturgy in the miniature format of 60 seconds? It can do all that – and much more, as the present record project 60 Seconds Each shows.’

With thirty-two tracks – some full compositions, some fragments, others either simply sketches or field recordings – packed back-to-back and lasting just over half an hour per side, the individual pieces become a part of the whole, a jigsaw or sound-collage more readily experienced as the sum of the parts, instead of broken down. The brevity of each piece also makes it rather difficult to really unpack specific merits on the individual works, because out of context, we’re presented with simply a snippet of sampled dialogue, some electronic bleeps, a burst of noise, a gurgling drain, some plan weird manipulated vocal stuff, engines, birdsong, distortion and, well, you name it. Many of the pieces would simply serve as interludes on any other album, but here we have an hour of incidentals and interludes, or otherwise of sample snippets where you may skip pr otherwise choose to listen to the whole track… But rather than being frustrating, this sonic patchwork quilt is so much more than the sum of its parts, and the segments coming at you at such pace is dizzying.

Veering wildly between the playful and the hyperserious, and those which it’s difficult to determine, intermingled with the abstract, hefty beats banging hard between moments of soothing ambience, the experience is one of overload – information overload. But information is currency in this age of digital insanity. We’ve gone beyond the relentless blizzard of information and communication, to an existence dictated by algorithms and three-second video clips, attention spans so stunted so as to even find a hundred and forty characters excessive; tl; dnr – thinking not good. Even our anger at the state of the world is abridged to the point that it’s articulated in GIFs and memes, and we don’t even know why we think what we think, because we’ve been deprived of the time and the capacity to analyse and weigh up our responses. Religion is no longer the opium of the people: 24-7 online media has usurped it, combined with an epidemic of addition to prescription painkillers which means that opium is in fact the opium of the people (prescription painkillers are now considered more addictive than heroin, and their use is certainly more widespread). Anyone in a fucked-up state would probably do well to avoid this release. But I digress.

Despite tighter regulations around data handling, breaches are increasingly commonplace because the pace and pressure of work environments force human error. Whoever hit ‘cc all’ made a mistake with consequences, and while responsible, the ultimate responsibility lies with the system, a system where academic institutions are business operations and everything ultimately comes down to the bottom line.

It’s quite remarkable that this bunch of rejects – sorry, group of academics – came together to contribute to this project instead of pursuing the institution for compensation.

In much the same way as the tape experiments with cut-ups and inching, and drop-ins conducted by William Burroughs and Brion Gysin in the late fifties and early sixties sound to create an experience which was closer to perception, so 60 Seconds Each presents an auditory experience analogous to flicking through TV channels while scrolling X or Facebook as you’re being bombarded by messages on WhatsApp when you’re actually supposed to be working. Yes, 60 Seconds Each is as close to everything all at once as is conceivably possible, and it makes for a truly mind-blowing hour, after which a period of silence with eyes closed is strongly recommended.
— Christopher Nosnibor, Aural Aggravation (DE)

At first, there seems to be nothing unusual about the compilation »60 Seconds Each«. It consists of 32 different pieces by different sound artists, who—as the title already says—are each represented here with a piece of about one minute in length. But the story of how this rather simple end product came into being is no ordinary one. It all started with someone not paying attention when sending an email. All of the artists featured on »60 Seconds Each« had applied for a professorship in Sound Art at a German university and received their rejection as a mass email in which the addresses of all interested parties were not hidden, but were visible to all others. At least this brought the competitors together and let them collaboratively develop this document of collective failure. Humour and solidarity—both are rarities these days. The fact that this is done in a short format has not only practical but also programmatic reasons. There are very different pieces to be heard from Budhaditya Chattopadhyay, Gilles Aubrey, Jasmine Guffond, Stefan Roigk and Tina Tonagel, among others, which in total can be understood as a concise commentary on the oversupply of eager potential teachers on the one hand and as an ironic rebuttal to the semi-public rejection of their efforts on the other.
— Kristoffer Cornils, field notes (USA)

Die Geschichte hinter diesem klangkünstlerisch-experimentellen Werk ist einfach zu schön. Eine, wie sie das Leben nun mal schreibt (und nur das Leben – “KannsteDirnichtausdenken!”), denn Fehler war hier schon ganz zu Anfang King: eine Uni schreibt eine Stelle aus, vielleicht für eine “Professur für Sound Art im Kontext Bildender Kunst”. Bewerbungen treffen ein – Auswahlprozeß – Vorstellungen – Entscheidung. Dann schickt das Sekretariat kurz vor Feierabend noch schnell die Absagen an die, die die (dreimal “die” – auch schön!) Stelle nicht bekommen haben. Per E-Mail. Nett, danke. Nur blöd, dass der Verteiler der Mail offen war und die Empfänger Künstler. Denn noch in der folgenden Nacht entstand aus der Panne ein Projekt – dieser (durchaus peinliche) Flüchtigkeitsfehler schrie geradezu nach kreativer Auseinandersetzung, nach künstlerischer Umsetzung, nach klanglicher Übersetzung. Im LP-booklet steht: “Und so entstand auf Konzept und Einladung Kristof Georgens eine Gruppe von 32 Sound Art-Donator*innen, die bereit waren, eine Schallplatte als eine künstlerische Gruppenarbeit zu verstehen und dafür jeweils einen 60-sekündigen Beitrag abzuliefern.” Und zwar ganz ausdrücklich nicht digital, sondern “wertig”. Hoch-wertig. Und damit konsequenter Weise auf Vinyl, dem Gegenpol zum flüchtigen SoundFile (vielleicht spielt unterschwellig/unterbewusst sogar der Umstand eine Rolle, dass Georgens gelernter Bildhauer ist und damit “Eingeritztem” (noch) mehr Beachtung schenkt?). Der schon zitierte, wirklich schlaue und lesenswerte booklet-Text von Holger Lund rekurriert denn auch kurz auf historische Vorläufer (u.a. natürlich die Residents mit ihrem “Commercial Album” voller Einminüter). Auch der Umstand, dass für die Generation TikTok ein 60-sec-Stück schon “Langformat” ist, findet dort Erwähnung. Und der Mut der Teilnehmer, sich dem Projekt zu öffnen, Teil einer “sozialen Plastik” im Beuys’schen Sinne zu werden. Wie das alles klingt? Nun ja, wir haben es mit KlangKunst zu tun, einem im Normalfall mit eher längeren und dramaturgisch komplexen Strukturen arbeitenden Sujet. Diese Komplexität auch in die ganz kurze Form zu bringen, das Klang-Kneten, -Samplen, -Verschränken, -Verwirren, -Entwirren, -Entspannen auf das Nötigste zu reduzieren (und dabei nichts zu verlieren) gelingt (in order of appearance) Claudia Molitor, Dani Gal, Timo Kahlen, Jan-Peter E.R. Sonntag, Heimo Lattner, Michael Trommer, Anton Kats, Wolfram Spyra, Kerstin Ergenzinger, Luca Forcucci, David Helbich, Jorn Ebner, Budhaditya Chattopadhyay, Kristof Georgen, Melanie Windl, Richard Eigner, Jasmine Guffond, Erwin Stache, Georg Klein, Yati Durant, Zosia Hołubowska, Bewernitz/Goldowski, Stefan Roigk, Gilles Aubry, Nik Nowak, Charlotte Simon (DJ Carl), Julia Bünnagel, Marek Brandt, Bojana S. Knežević/BOASZ, Phillip Sollmann, Tina Tonagel und Mattin verblüffend gut. Jedes Stück ist anders, jeder Zugang neu, jeder aufregend (aber interessanter Weise meistens nicht “zu kurz”!); beschreiben lässt sich die tönende Vielfalt mit Worten kaum. Hören Sie!
— Karsten Zimalla, Westzeit (DE)