Mutable Sound is pleased to present a different unique musical experience every month. Each month we will bring you a different free download of an experimental one-off, by ourselves, or someone perhaps living in your very neighborhood! These are discoveries from the reel-to-reels and tascams of the garages and basements of the world, but also studio jobs make us feel things perhaps we wished we hadn’t, songs that stand on their own and songs that embody the spirit of mutability, songs we want you to cherish even though each is but a lonely single track.

As always, if you have a particular track you think would fit these criteria, just send a link to the song, credits, and a brief description to submissions@mutablesound.com

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For the past few months you may have noticed the occasional manifesto popping up for you to peruse. “Why,” you may have asked. The why is this.

We here at Mutable have believed in the art of the manifesto from before there was a Mutable to speak of. We taught a course at the Berwick Research Institute on manifesto-writing back in the summer of 2002, and have been soliciting people to write manifestos ever since. Our first book was Manifesto I, a collection of the manifestos were written as a result of our expertise in nagging.

All of this has evolved into the Manifesto of the Month. On the first sunday of every month we publish a manifesto discovered in the wonderful world of the interweb. Click on the link below to see the results of our ongoing efforts.

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Artist Philip Jeck's "Vinyl Pond" - Bruges, Belgium 2002

A weekly spot in which Misters Felder and Boyer play their favorite melodies from years gone by, as well as a few new tunes from out the library. Topics are discussed, such as what is there to hate? A new episode of Twilight at the Lady Jane Grey College for Little Ladies is aired each week.

Recorded entirely at Mutable Sound Studios, this weekly adventure into sound will also feature new Mutable Sound acts you have just been dying to hear! As well as the squiggly sounds of yesteryear.

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The year is 1903 and the Lady Jane Grey College for Little Ladies is closed for the summer session, the windows empty, gargoyles and latin script cut into the arched doorways, the buildings now abandoned but for a few who have no other home, a handful of teachers, administrators, and orphans.

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It began when my roommate changed the light bulb in my bedroom. It ended in a five-hour crying spree in the Nevada desert, but will also never be over for me. Bedroom Theater is a productionless event in which there is no audience, only people performing for each other, for the sheer pleasure of performing, and I have resuscitated it here in Chicago for the simple reason that I am lonely and want to slather my loneliness on others.

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