Cassini is a rather handy ally should you happen to have (what’s admittedly) a strange fetish for moons. Buzzing around Saturn like a particularly persistent paparazzo, it’s been snapping away since 2004 (although the word “snapping” is a little disingenuous; the probe is armed with a whole range of state of the art hardware – magnetometers, spectrometers, UV / Infra-red sensors, a giant pair of x-ray specs – and there’s been a constant stream of exotic data that gets those far cleverer than me all excited). Seven previously unknown satellites have been discovered thanks to Cassini’s photography, but in my mind that’s just a happy accident – it’s the naked awe such images imply that has me salivating like a spaceboy. Somewhat similar to shoegaze, I’d wager.
This is a recent image; the dimpled, icy Dione hogging the limelight whilst Epimetheus, Pandora (two of Saturn’s more esoteric, misshapen moons) plus a segment of the planet’s ring system lurk in the background. Like most of Saturn’s family a geologically dead moon, Dione’s surface is nonetheless scarred by it’s tectonic heritage – wispy trails of discolouration across its backside that Cassini revealed to be cliffs of ice, several hundred meters high. Bring crampons, should you visit.
With a name such as Bethany Curve, you’d half expect this Mid-Coast California band to be signed to the iconic Sarah Records label, to be forever be popping round for tea and toast with Tallulah Gosh; that they also make delicious music is a bonus. Today’s featured record is from their (alas currently unavailable) 1995 début Mee-eaux; such an alluring, prepossessing intro, it shimmers, before blissfully submerging into Robin Guthrie guitar territory. Some tracks never require a vocal, it would simply detract from the grace-heavy texture, the statements of dreamy immediacy laced across the momentum like ice cliffs on a Saturnian moon. A delight.
Bethany Curve / Walk In