Welcome to The Pellicle Mixtape, a monthly feature where I (Pellicle co-founder Jonathan Hamilton) will be asking people from across the food and drink industry to create a playlist set to a theme of their choosing.

The hope is to gain a small insight into that person and their place of work through not only their song choices but also the thought process and level of obsessiveness they put into their mixtape. I’ll also be asking them what they’ve been enjoying eating and drinking recently, and finding out what else has been exciting them in the world of food and drink.

If you’ve been enjoying our features, please consider making a monthly contribution to Pellicle via our Patreon page. All our contributors are paid for their work and this will help us keep going.

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We are back, with probably the last of the Pellicle Mixtapes for this year. And what a year it’s been. In some ways, the overwhelming crappiness of 2020 really allowed this feature to resonate with so many of us, around the world, confined much of the year to our homes. Music, like beer, wine and cider, is such a huge part of my life, and this year, with the loss of live music, and the temporary closure of many of our pubs in this country at least, it’s been a struggle for those of us who thrive in these environments.

As I write this, it’s 7pm on a Thursday evening on a Scottish winter night. In another timeline, there is a very real possibility that now I could be sitting down in a pub with some friends, quickly seeing away a pint, before rushing around the corner to a gig venue in order to try and catch the support act before the main show. This Saturday I’ve bought tickets for myself and some friends (my Pellicle co-founder Matthew, and his partner Dianne, and our good pal Doreen) to attend a Twilight Sad gig online. I hope before or after we can catch up on video chat and share a few beers and chat about the gig. It’s not perfect, but it’s a testament to these two industries that we will keep trying everything to pull through, and that’s something.

Music is probably the most important thing in my life, more so than beer. It’s the last thing I think about at night, as I put on an album to fall asleep to, and it’s the first thing I think about in the morning when getting ready to head to work. When I brew beer, the choice of music is crucial at every step of the process. In the same way you can’t mash in to Stars of the Lid, you can’t clean down the floors at the end of a 12-hour shift to Jeff Buckley (sorry Fred, but you just cannot).

When canning as a team, music will make or break morale. This is when ABBA Gold comes into its own. On the walk to work, it’s either a continuation of the night before with more minimalism or ambient music if I’m still waking up, or if I have a big day ahead of me it might be something like Bicep to get my heart rate up. If I’ve had a bad day, more likely than not I’ll be found walking home through the park listening to Full of Hell or something equally brutal.

And so, it was a thrill to discover that Garrett Crowell of Yokefellow Brewery in Texas, USA feels as strongly about these things as I do. Yokefellow is a small brewery that shares a lot of the same ethos towards brewing as I do as part of Newbarns Brewery in Leith. We both aim to make lower alcohol, sessionable ales and lagers made from select raw materials that allow the ingredients to shine. We make these beers partially for ourselves, but mainly so that they can be enjoyed with friends, either at the pub, or in a backyard. The beers will stimulate conversation but not be the conversation. In these type of beers, nuance is key, balance is the name of the game, and honestly, it’s all about having fun and not taking things too seriously.

While Garrett and I have not met, I hope to one day we can hang out, share a few cans of Coors Banquet, enjoy a burger in a backyard somewhere and listen to some jamz. This mix, recorded back in Summer, was one that I enjoyed the most but I’m a nerd for this sort of stuff. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the drone.

The Pellicle Mixtape Volume 17 — Garrett Crowell of Yokefellow Brewery

Music and beer have been my most loyal companions for some time.

I went to college in the coastal town of Galveston, Texas to study Marine Science. After the first semester, my mom asked me what I thought of the coursework and what kind of career I saw it leading into. My response was something along the lines of, "It's interesting, but I think I'm just going to have a career of many creative pursuits". To my surprise, she responded with a smile, "yeah, that makes sense".

At 18 years old, perhaps I still felt I needed permission to become the person I hoped to be, and her response was a springboard. It was on the streets of Galveston that immersed myself in beer, and then began homebrewing. I lived downtown, in an old (by USA standards) building from the late 1800s, and at the end of my staircase was a bar, and next door a tourist shop called Strand Emporium.

They had a cold case with a handful of bottles available for takeaway. It is legal to consume alcohol on the street in Galveston, so my roommate David and I would stop in, grab a few beers, and find a bench to drink and shoot the shit. Victory Prima Pils was likely our most consumed beer, which became quite formative for my fledgling beer tastes. It was intriguing, yet still served as an appendage to our conversations on that bench, and never became the conversation itself.

During this same era of my life, visiting thrift stores and pawn shops was a weekly venture. I found a copy of Wendy Carlos' "A Well-Tempered Synthesizer" [originally released under her birth name of Walter Carlos] LP at a thrift store for the cost of some pocket change. It served as a quick shift for me upon the first listen. It was my introduction to monophonic synthesizers, on which one can only play one note at a time. I had a polyphonic synthesizer (you can play chords on these)—Yamaha SK-15 —that I picked up from a pawn shop in Galveston a few years prior.

That record prompted me to purchase an Octave "Cat" monophonic synthesizer, manufactured in the mid 1970s. I found that I was able to feel more creative satisfaction being able to play only one note at a time rather than playing full chords. I had a loop pedal (still do) and a handful of reverb and delay effects pedals that I'd run this synth through to create melodies with a lot of breadth (also still do, can be heard here). I discovered that the instrument was important, but technique moreso.

After graduating college in 2007, unable to find a job pertaining to my degree, I moved just outside of Austin, Texas in hopes of making a living playing music. Turns out that was an even more difficult career path to be successful in, but it was an integral tangent that got me where I am today. I lived in a rural home with some friends and set up a recording studio in the basement. In town, there was a big box liquor store that I'd frequent to further my interests in beer. I had been drinking Saison Dupont a bit, but it was the purchase of North Coast Brewing "Le Merle" here that served as my "Well-Tempered Synthesizer" of beer.

Though I had been homebrewing for a few years, drinking this beer was the first time I rationalized yeast as an instrument, rather than an ingredient employed to create alcohol. Yeast became the guitar, and not just the cable that connected it to the amp. I felt affection for yeast, and began to consume every bit of information I could find on it.

This led me to Brettanomyces, which led me to the Burgundian Babble Belt, which led me to Fantôme, which led me to pursue deliberate mixed culture fermentation. This then led me to Jester King Brewery, a foot in the door, a career, a trip to brew at Brasserie Fantôme, and a launching point for my career of many creative pursuits. Even further, it led me to my wife Adrienne, whom I met and worked alongside in my early days at Jester King. Thanks Wendy Carlos!

This mix is an effort to exemplify the periphery, a mainstay theme in my creative pursuits for many years. All tracks are instrumental, featuring no vocals or deliberate message. I'm drawn to that openness of interpretation. They are all pretty repetitive, mostly subtle, yet some even lean abrasive. But beyond just melody, they all have some periphery that I'm continually drawn to. Inadvertent artefacts from the hiss and warble of tape, digital audio clipping, and the advertent product of tone.

Music has been especially influential in my career of making beer. Instruments are readily available, music can be learned and read and written, but the periphery of technique is what I'm most intrigued by. I think for me, that's where the creative relationship begins between the human component and the inanimate component of making beer. It affords the satisfaction of deliberate results, and the delight of surprise beyond intent.

Honk — Brad and David's Theme

This intro track is pulled from the 1972 surf film, "Five Summer Stories". It's a bit of an outlier but serves as a quick ascent before a long taper down. A nice breezy vibe setter. Though I had seen the film many years ago, I first heard this track via Reverberation radio, which is absolutely worth a regular listen.

Boards of Canada — Satellite Anthem Icarus

The first time I heard Boards of Canada was like I found an old photo album in my parent’s attic full of memories I didn't even know I had. They manufacture the strangest yet most familiar nostalgia in their music. And, somehow it defies era. They are an exemplar for the periphery I mentioned above. Every sound has such a beautiful and meticulous tone attached to it.

r beny - Lupine

This arrhythmic jam sounds like it was recorded on a broken tape player...and it probably was. I absolutely love that.

1991 — No More Dreams V

4th Dimensional goth music. Broken tape player sound, saturated in reverb and weaving flange. Those are themes in my life. Maybe I just like broken equipment? Nostalgia triggering from the sound of cavitating pumps? Rhythmic air trapped in glycol lines? To quote Winona Ryder impersonating Bjork, "Everything is music".

Tim Hecker — Virginal II

This one needs good headphones for an intact listen. A real paradox; opposing yet complementary. Almost abrasive, but there are little hints here and there of some "nice" sounds. Then minute 3:40 hits, and I can't say I've heard much that is more beautiful and intriguing as those pulsing sounds. They don't make sense, but man do they make me feel something nice. I'd recommend a full listen of this album "Virgins" from start to finish, as it has some continuous play elements that give greater context to this track.

Fennesz — City of Light

This could be a Tim Hecker song, or that Tim Hecker song could be a Fennesz song. I like that. It's ok to be homogeneous.

GAS — Pop 4

Harmony of ingredient. Percussion and melody are mostly indistinguishable. I like when that happens in beer. Fermentation character, yeast; everything is just kind of there, without screaming "here I am".

Heathered Pearls — Beach Shelter

This track sounds like it's being played in a vacuum cleaner made of velvet, immersed in a creek. I wish we would describe beer in those types of terms.

William Basinski — dlp 1.3

William makes tape loops. He records music onto tape, then cuts the tape into loops so that playback is repetitive and drawn out. In this series, called "Disintegration Loops", those tape loops are played back (while being recorded) until they wear out. It's some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard, and I am absolutely enamoured that you are listening to something physically fall apart. This is the shortest of the disintegration loops that I find most pleasing to listen to. I'd recommend listening to dlp 3. It's my favourite, but at 42 minutes long, not quite fit for a mixtape like this.

Cocteau Twins — Oomingmak (Instrumental)

Elizabeth Fraser's voice is out of this world, though absent in this version. Instead, Robin Guthrie's thumbprint guitar work is front and centre. It's kind of nice to deconstruct something into its various components, though I still can't help but hear Liz's ethereal voice in my head when listening to this version.

Infinite — Lived On It's Knees (For Matt)

This track showed up on random while I was mashing out at the end of a long brew day. I immediately purchased/downloaded the album so I could give it a full listen on the drive home. I never do that, but it moved me enough to step outside my norm.

Benoît Pioulard — XIV

I love when tracks have cryptic names. Meaninglessness is nice sometimes. This is an Orval track. Distortion being analogous to Brettanomyces. It's subtle, but builds over time. Distortion being a volume too loud for the capacity of the speakers it's being played through. Brettanomyces being a brewery not kept as clean as it should (in the past sense for Orval, as I understand brett is now a deliberate addition whereas in the past it was a product of environment).

Distortion being something that is a flaw of design, but can add so much dimension and depth when employed gracefully. Brett being a flaw of delinquent cleanliness, but can add so much dimension and depth when employed gracefully.

What have you been drinking recently?

I recently re-discovered Coors Banquet Beer, after swearing it off long ago. I had been drinking the bottled version, which always drank too sweet for my tastes. Then, a good pal offered me a can, which I obliged and made quick work of. It drank real nice. That's a testament to package format and how it can influence perception of taste. It tastes like beer, and beer-flavored beer is seemingly novel right now.

Another macro brand, Lone Star (The National Beer of Texas) recently put out a new beer called "Lone Star 24/7". It's 2.1% ABV and full of purpose. It offers some good longevity of drinking, especially in this Texas heat (it was 108F two days ago!!!) [This was written in the summer of 2020—Ed]. It has a lot more hop character than it's Lone Star siblings and is a pretty textbook example of carbonic acid and it's perceived flavour contribution to beer. I say perceived because it doesn't actually have flavour, but like a good washy reverb, it can really draw a note out nicely. I've been fishing a lot, and I'll usually put a few in my pocket for some streamside suds.

Our friend, Sean Spiller, recently sent us some beers he has been making at New Magnolia Brewing, in Houston, Texas. I drank an Altbier from him the other night while cooking dinner, and it was everything I wanted it to be. Thinkable, yet drinkable.

My wife, Adrienne Ballou, is a winemaker by profession working at Southold Farm & Cellar where she also makes her own label called Lightsome Wines. It's now [mid-July 2020] grape harvest, so they recently packaged most of last year's vintage. She brought home a red blend of Barbera/Merlot, and a nice racy Albariño that I've been drinking a lot of.

Where/What have you been eating recently?

In this Covid era, our life hasn't changed that much. We live on the outskirts of a rural community, about an hour west of Austin, Texas. My wife and I bought some land with a home on it a few years ago and have been getting our roots set deep and watered well. We don't have many friends coming out to visit as much, which has been the biggest change. We've always cooked at home, with an occasional meal had at the Pecan Street Brew-pub in town. We keep a garden year-round, and we kind of panic planted in March, aiming to be as self-sufficient as possible.

The result is a garden so full that it's difficult to manoeuvre around! A nice problem, I suppose. As such, we've been eating a lot of okra, making pickles, drying chillies and beans, making agua frescas with the sweetest and most aromatic melons I've ever had, figuring out new ways to eat a tomato, etc. etc. etc.

We keep ducks and chickens for eggs, and we have two dairy goats that we'll milk through winter and spring. Adrienne makes some chèvre with the milk on occasion and it's such a treat.

I'm on a burger trip right now. About a month ago, I realized I had never cooked a burger I was satisfied with. Not because it's complicated, but because I'm typically drawn to cooking drawn out complicated things, like mole or paella...things of that sort. I found a bun I really like, I have fresh tomato, we found some real nice ground wagyu beef, made some nice pickles, got some cheapo American cheese, and I've been figuring out the sauce.

So far it's been a mix of Kewpie mayo, Crystal hot sauce (the best), and some diced up pickles and pickled onion from the garden. It leans a bit too acid heavy, so I'll likely start to include some sweet component. A favourite burger joint of mine is an Austin area chain called P.Terry's. It's kind of just a step above fast food, but it's the type of burger that I find most satisfying...thin patty, griddle cooked, fake cheese, sparse veggies, pink sauce. That's what I've been trying to approximate at home.

I recently turned 36 years old, and we had a few close friends out for an afternoon of outdoor time and food cooked on flame. Adrienne and I will cook outdoors a bunch during summer, because it's just too damn hot to cook inside. I bought a cast-iron comal (round, mostly flat griddle common in Mexico) a few years back, and it pretty much stays on the fire pit. We cooked some quesadillas stuffed with Oaxacan queso, a super stringy melty cheese, and squash blossoms from the garden. So simple, so delicious. I'm learning to keep things simple. We've also been using the comal to cook up some elotes (grilled corn), and getting some veggies and herbs a bit charred and smoky for some mole verde.

What have you been reading recently?

I don't really read much, at least not books in full. I'm typically picking up something to reference and apply elsewhere. Here are a handful of books I've found to be resourceful lately, and that entertain a curious draw.

A Pattern Language

This book intrigues me. It examines a lot of theory around civil design. Like, why did the kitchen get separated from the rest of the house mid-century? A favourite passage from it proposes an argument for window placement that has really struck me. Say for instance you live in the Alps and there's a nice view of the mountains; instead of placing a large array of windows in the living area that overlooks the mountains, place a small window with that view in an area of the home that you're typically passing through rather than spending considerable time in. This keeps that view less ordinary. Kind of an act of restraint.

The Forgotten Art Of Building A Stone Wall by Curtis P. Fields

It's a book about building stone walls, as the title implies. I picked it up from a book resale shop and flip through it frequently. I'm pretty interested in the use of unobtrusive resources, mostly from a stance of creative frugality but environmentally too. We have heaps of limestone where we live which the nearby farmers and ranchers often curse. I'm hoping to get to it soon and make something with some rocks.

Homework - Handbuilt Shelter by Lloyd Kahn

We've been building a small cabin on our property that was heavily influenced by this book. Lloyd Kahn is kind of my hero. He's done a remarkable job of documenting unconventional building techniques since the late 1960s.