Millions is the recording project of Brooklyn-based sound-artist David Suss. He’s self-released a ton of CDRs, put out some more via Obsolete Units and Abandon Ship (et al), and this c30 scorcher, limited to 60 copies, was released by Baked Tapes. The deep earth-digging/shaking drones that come alive on the two sides of “Shredded Heaven” will appeal to gloomy-depressives and the hopeful alike, as the sounds are absolutely suitable for either wall or sun-gazing, or whatever may lie in-between. Both tracks are fully absorptive, washing over the listener with thick, contemplative waves of seductive sonic pulse-fuzz.
Side A rips in with a static bath that completely soaks the space until a celebratory ray of light peeks in through the dense pattern. The trance that Suss produces here is undeniably joyful and flowing, as if a devastated body/soul is rising up from the thickest sludge of Being. Side B establishes a more eerie and apocalyptic mood with a whirring siren that spins around the minefield. The organ shimmers above a cavernous bass hum, materially grounding the gloom for a delayed guitar phrase to smoothly loom on. A monstrous static wall gradually builds, disrupting the open space, transforming the drone into a vertical ride toward everlasting night. No worries, though, because the lights get bright enough here to shine out even the darkest of roads. 8/10 -- Elliott Sharp (10 March, 2010)