Luna Mitchell’s Torschlusspanik pushes electronic music into deep emotional intensity
Among the endearingly long and extremely specific words in the German language is “Torschlusspanik” which refers to the feeling of panic when a door or gate is about to close, shutting a person out from the safety within—or perhaps, a lost opportunity.
Local electronic musician Luna Mitchell named her gripping and often harrowing one-person band Torschlusspanik with a conscious effort to explore narrative themes suggested by the name.
“These themes can be summed up in the definition of Torschlusspanik itself, which is best described as the fear that time is running or has already run out,” Mitchell says. “Whether I’m layering heaps of vomit sounds through a fuzz pedal or sampling a racist conspiracy theorist over trumpet fanfare, I do my best to find new angles to explore this initial vision I had for Torschlusspanik.”
The new self-titled full-length album from Torschlusspanik, self-released on CD and digitally, is a strong contender for being the most intricate and sonically and emotionally intense local album released this year, made from seemingly hundreds of bits of sound samples and noise meticulously constructed.
“‘Harsh and maximalist electro-acoustic’ is how I like to describe Torschlusspanik,” says Mitchell. “I’m happy to group myself in with ‘noise’ and ‘experimental music’ for clarity’s sake.”
Mitchell was born and raised in the small West Tennessee town of Atwood and grew up playing drums in alt-rock and punk bands.
“When I was living on my own at 21, a few lucky Goodwill finds earned me two analog synths, and I started what would become a noise duo called Beesty and a microlabel called Alamagator,” she remembers. “I bounced around West and Middle Tennessee a lot during these years, getting in over my head with too many projects for one person to handle. So I dropped it all and moved to Columbia, South Carolina for five years of keeping completely to myself before starting Torschlusspanik and then moving to Chattanooga a year later.”
Mitchell’s musical tastes are extremely eclectic with often obscure sources, and while one might guess that her inspiration comes primarily from noise and electro-acoustic artists, that isn’t the case.
“It seems natural for me to try to squeeze in anything that fits, but Torschlusspanik has particularly been an unlikely channel for the weirder side of old emo and hardcore punk,” Mitchell explains. “Bands like Moss Icon, Zegota and Kulara supply feelings and ideas that fuel this side of me more than Merzbow or Jason Lescalleet. Any strong sense of glitch or ‘post-production music’ that can be heard is more likely coming from my love of overdone dubs rather than modern electronic music. I’m also a serious sponge for minimalist music of most genres, contrasting constantly in my head with maximalism.”
Although Mitchell currently emphasizes composition over improvisation, she notes, “The nature of my equipment ensures I’ll never sound the same twice even if I try. My process almost always begins with prepping for a live set. My primary weapon of choice is a digital 8-track made by Tascam. I’ll fill two tracks with the framework for the piece and labor outward via the other six tracks, keeping important intros, segues and so forth on the initial tracks so that my constant abuse of FX won’t completely ruin the piece without serious negligence.”
While Mitchell does not weave her own personal stories into her work, she does borrow some intense emotional moments from others, including profoundly disturbing phone dialogue used on the new album’s final track, “We Remain Alive to Guess Again,” between a loving woman and a hateful man.
“It’s from a YouTube channel in which a mother documents phone calls from her schizophrenic son,” she says. “Mental illness is obviously a subject I repeatedly acknowledge, but that was a really special find for me due to the conflict between the two parties and the uncertainty of their relationship based on the audio.”
The restaurant/venue Sluggo’s recently resumed hosting shows after a yearlong hiatus, and during that break, Mitchell began hosting house shows at her Cleveland residence.
“When my wife and I bought a house in Cleveland, we immediately saw potential for basement parties and decided to immediately run with the idea to cover for the hole left by Sluggo’s,” Mitchell says. “Every night has been a blast, but Dux from Atlanta was something special for me. Red Okra King and Rurnt have also really lifted expectations for local acts.”
“I’ve mainly learned to relax a bit at shows and enjoy myself rather than pick apart the social aspects,” she says. “I think the biggest surprise remains how difficult it is to convince everyone to show up on time, especially on Fridays.”
What’s apparent to Mitchell, but not the latecomers, is that time is running out.