Horaflora recordings trace an evolving arc: beginning with immersive studio compositions, morphing into live performance practices, and eventually circling back to recordings that capture the essence of that live work. The earliest recordings were constructed in the studio — works improvised into existence using binaural microphones, field recordings, and electroacoustic setups. These pieces weren't initially meant for the stage; they were dense, headphone-oriented, and rich in spatial detail. But as opportunities to perform emerged, a live set was developed — one that tried to embody the energy and detail of the studio material using balloons, cassette loops, latex tubing, electric toothbrushes, and other tactile sound-makers. Naturally, the desire arose to document that experience as well. The resulting recordings in this second phase attempt to portray the live set — some captured in actual venues, others layered in the studio as composites or reconstructions. Over time, the boundary between studio and live blurred, and eventually the work returned to something more site-specific and present-tense again — recordings rooted in environment and immediacy.
Crafted over five years (2002–2007), The Gland Canyon is Horaflora's debut, weaving binaural field recordings, improvised acoustic automata, and handmade electronic treatments into a richly detailed sonic tapestry. The album immerses listeners in a crepuscular, moody environment, gently tugging at the ears before plunging them into audible unknowables. Utilizing binaural microphones placed directly in the artist's ears, it creates a heightened spatial illusion best experienced through headphones. Sounds unfold as if performed by an improvising ensemble gathered around the mic—an immersive, headphone-recommended tour de force.
In 2020, during the height of the pandemic, my friend Andy Puls invited me to spend a month on his newly-finished homestead in what he calls the Lemurian Highlands—just outside Mount Shasta in Northern California. With no work and little social contact possible, he and his family left their home in Richmond, CA, and committed to living off-grid in this remote, wooded area. I stayed there from July to August, mostly to “stake out” the land while it was unoccupied—part artist residency, part security patrol. It's an area so isolated that break-ins could happen without consequence, with dense timberland for cover. While there, I recorded daily: sounds of insects, wild horses, birds, footsteps, and the occasional synthesizer. I swam in the nearby lake, rode my electric unicycle on miles of logging roads, and soaked in the surreal quiet of the landscape. This piece—*On Lemurian Highland*—is a document of that stretch of time. It's more field recording than synthesis, more diary than composition.
An auditory journey through Oakland's sonic landscape, Eaves Drop intertwines a year's worth of binaural field recordings with subtle instrumentation. Horaflora captures the essence of urban life—children's laughter, distant trains, and spontaneous street performances—crafting a collage that blurs the lines between observer and participant. The album challenges perceptions of public and private soundscapes, inviting listeners to explore the nuances of everyday acoustics. Praised for its immersive quality, Eaves Drop serves as a meditation on the art of listening in an era of constant surveillance.
Weston Minissali and Brad Henkel (Trumpet Trumpet Synthesizer) performed at my house around 2012 or 2013. They later submitted their track “Oh Baby” — a lush, vocoded duet for dual trumpets and synthesizer — which became the A-side of this split. For my contribution, I attempted a studio reconstruction of my live set, capturing each element independently: cassette loops, latex tubes, surround playback, balloon filtering — all binaurally recorded and mixed into a single rendered piece. Rather than performing the set live, I assembled it layer by layer, creating a stylized portrait of what a Horaflora set might sound like at its most immersive.
This split LP features a 17-minute live duo performance recorded in 2009 at KALX radio, where Horaflora (Raub Roy) and Andrea Williams blend expelled balloon air, street sweeper bristles, and real-time field recordings into a dynamic electroacoustic soundscape. The piece transitions from manic, careening textures to moments of near silence with singing bowls, embodying a funhouse-like stereo field. Praised for its raw energy and inventive instrumentation, the release was favorably reviewed in the article Raub Roy's Funhouse on the Crow With No Mouth blog.
This CD collects three full performances of the Horaflora live set, each recorded in a distinct acoustic environment: the cavernous gymnasium of the Cambridge YMCA during Weirdstock III, the concrete reverb chamber of a WWII-era bunker in the Marin Headlands, and the industrial art gallery space of Lobot Gallery in Oakland. Though the cover features a drawing based on a different performance in San Francisco, these recordings span the breadth of what a large-format Horaflora set could sound like. Some recordings were patched together from multiple sources to best capture the events. These are real live shows — no overdubs — just different ears in different rooms. One listener once told me this was their favorite work of mine.
The label head at Chrysanthemum Records first heard the Horaflora / Secret Boyfriend split while working at a record shop, and reached out to see if I’d be interested in doing a release with him. This LP, *Craterellus Cornucopioides*, sits somewhere between a studio construction and a live documentation. Side A is essentially a Horaflora live set — recorded piecemeal, with a collaborator acting as the binaural mic head while I performed each element one at a time. Side B takes a more abstract route: it assembles field recordings that evoke the qualities of my live materials. At one point, a faucet at Diane’s house caused the plumbing to hum like low brass instruments — which, on this record, stands in for the latex tubing and balloon elements. Other moments offer similar substitutions, blurring the line between natural acoustics and performance gesture.
Recorded during a period when I didn’t have access to my acoustic tools, *Canard* marked my first foray into fully electronic composition. Released by Phinery, I originally shared it under semi-anonymous terms, uncertain about owning this stylistic departure. But it set the stage for what became Scy1e.
Scy1e is the all-electronic side of my output — synthesized, sampled, sequenced. While Horaflora often involves recording acoustic actions in space, Scy1e is built inside the machine. If anything has touched the air, it’s only to be captured and reprocessed digitally.