My live…..

performances are centered around sound collage, field recordings, restless electronics, tapes, objects, voice and video. I currently live in Boston with my ten year old dog and many plants. 

Email: stephanielak@gmail.com 

Written by Angela Sawyer for Pretty Records 2017 release ~~ coming soon

“Steph likes moss and keeps a little snake in formaldehyde. She spends all her time on things that grow, like plants or particularly sweet little toddlers. She has a great big old dog that is maybe the best dog of all time. She’s been playing around Lowell and Boston for the last several years, and lately has been in a trio called Phurnne plus running a yearly festival that brings together all the weird music folks in New England.

Aggressive hisscapes are abstract and that can be cool, but like the testosterbros who usually make them, they are pretty common. Muddy gurgles that never really go anywhere are even easier to come by. Instead, Steph sticks to textures that evoke objects or memories, yielding a symphony of the almost recognizable, a playground of the not quite familiar.

She begins, for example, with a plod that reminds of the classic monster footfalls from Forbidden Planet. But instead of some alien rocks, these steps lead to rooms with quilts all over the walls. She uses a wide variety of sonic backgrounds (gained through manipulated field recordings), and yet they’re all cozy places. These indoor nooks and outdoor glens afford just enough locality to your ear that surrounding layers can slide around and yet remain distinct instead of blending into murk.

On top of that, each layer holds a texture that you can only sort of identify. A light theremin sprouts up that is close to the sound of a cow moo can, but isn’t one. A tiny amplifier becomes a squeaky door. A homemade electric box is suddenly a memory of looking out a window in the late afternoon. Everything points at something that is just out of reach. The whole thing shifts slowly like a turning kaleidoscope. Everything is comfortable, but all the angles are oblique.

Steph also makes collages/drawings that she never really tells anybody about, even though she’s good at it. Maybe you don’t care about plants and kids, but everybody oughta care about big ideas, like whether being better at living makes you better at music. And Steph is one of the best arguments around that it does. Make time to get to know her.”


MP3 REVIEW:  “Free School”



O T H E R                                 



Editors: Ryan Gallagher and Derek Fenner  “YOUNG ANGEL MIDNIGHT rises up from the beat surface of cobblestone streets as an urban, multi-cultural, post-industrial, American reliquary to the arts.  It includes a collection of visual artists, performance artists, writers, and musicians who live, work, or go to school in the Greater Lowell area.  Generously funded and supported by the Cultural Organization of Lowell, this book showcases Lowell’s art scene, which is culturally and aesthetically diverse, vibrant, and extensive.  The magic of this collection, however, is that the work inside transcends the provincial and is a clarion of the urgency, power, and vibrancy of a new generation of artists emerging around us.”




” The spring flood brings us more than high adventure; it brings likewise an unpredictable miscellany of floatable objects pilfered from upriver farms. An old board stranded on our meadow has, to us, twice the value of the same piece new from the lumberyard. Each old board has its own individual history, always unknown, but always to some degree guessable from the kind of wood, its dimensions, its nails, screws, or paint, its finish or the lack of it, its wear or decay. One can even guess, from the abrasion of its edges and ends on sandbars, how many floods have carried it in years past.
Our lumber pile, recruited entirely from the river, is thus not only a collection of personalities, but an anthology of human strivings in upriver farms and forests. The autobiography of an old board is a kind of literature not yet taught on campuses, but any riverbank farm is a library where he who hammers or saws may read at will. Come high water, there is always an accession of new books.”
Aldo Leopold “A Sand County Almanac”

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