A harmonium and two field mics in a second-floor room over the bazaar. The take runs until the first vegetable cart rolls past the window.
Only after midnight.
Aadhi Raat is a record label in Kathmandu. Every record on it is played and taped between 00:00 and first light, and every sleeve carries the minute the take began.
A bansuri played against the bridge rail. The river under it, and the last trucks over it, are on the record too.
Voices walking the kora clockwise, taped on a cassette deck carried in a cloth bag. The bells are the stupa's own.
A sarangi on a roof beside a black water tank. A neighbour's radio, two houses down, joins in eleven minutes later.
Example catalogue. These four sessions are studies for the label's first pressings.
Five rules. One room.
Nothing on the label breaks these. Press Hear it on a card and the room makes the sound of that rule.
-
Rule one00:00
The doorLock
At midnight Kathmandu time the door is bolted. Whoever is inside plays. Nobody comes in late, and nobody needs to leave.
-
Rule two00:10
The cityListen
Ten minutes of nothing before the first note. The mics hear the transformer hum, the dogs and the wind, and they stay on the record.
-
Rule three00:20
The tapeOne take
The tape runs once. No second pass, no overdubs in the morning. A wrong note at 02:40 is part of what 02:40 sounded like.
-
Rule four05:00
The bellStop
The take ends at the first temple bell of the morning, wherever the music is. Some records end mid-phrase. That is the rule working.
-
Rule five05:10
The sleeveStamp
The minute the take began is stamped on the sleeve by hand. That minute is the record's name. No two records share one.
The room, stacked.
- Rules
- 5
- Heard
- 0 of 5
- Room
- Locks at 00:00
One night in Asan, from the shutters to the bell
23:58 · Shutters down
The bazaar closes one shutter at a time.
The spice sellers pull their metal doors down and the street gets louder for a minute, then quieter than it has been all day. A microbus goes past with its door open.
Upstairs, someone tunes a harmonium against the sound of the last scooter.
00:40 · The room is locked
After midnight the city has a key of its own.
The transformer on the corner hums under everything. The dogs take the crossroads and pass their news from one tole to the next.
The tape has been rolling for twenty-six minutes. Nobody has said a word.
03:10 · Deep hours
One window on the street is still lit.
Every other house has gone dark. This is the hour the label exists for: tired hands, slow tempos, nothing left to prove to anyone awake.
Across the valley the hills are only a darker line against the sky.
05:20 · First bell
The first temple bell ends the take.
Pigeons lift off the temple roof. A tea stall lights its stove. The record stops wherever the music happens to be.
The sleeve is stamped before anyone sleeps.
Night received.
We listen after midnight and reply within seven nights.
Reference AR-0000, stamped with the minute it arrived in Kathmandu. A copy is on its way to .
- We play it once, in the dark, start to finish.
- If it keeps us up, we write back with a date to press it.
- Either way, you hear from us before the eighth night.