Kevin Drumm Credit: Susanna Bolle

If there’s a more efficient and affordable way to build a high-quality experimental music collection than subscribing to Kevin Drumm’s Bandcamp page, I don’t know about it. Over the last couple of years he’s produced new work at a prodigious clip, releasing multiple titles each month that alternate between restrained, deeply resonant drones, furious noise excursions, and deliciously tactile experiments in dynamics. His rapidly expanding body of work has shown that he’s a restless creator who’s seriously invested in trying new things within his abstract milieu. Drumm’s latest offering, October (Early Warning), is composed of hovering long tones with gently undulating strands of sound that are woven together like endlessly unspooling rope. His prolific schedule in the digital realm hasn’t staunched the flow of physical releases; last year he compiled a characteristically disparate array of material in a hard-hitting five-CD box set titled Elapsed Time (Sonoris). Unfortunately, while Drumm’s recorded output has been voluminous, his local performances have been rare—until fall 2015, he hadn’t given a formal Chicago concert in nearly a decade. I’m thrilled that he’s been coaxed to perform again, this time as part of the final night of A Memory Palace of Fear, an immersive haunted-house installation curated by Martha Bayne and Andrea Jablonski (among others) and produced by Theater Oobleck.   v