The Long Frequencies

Velora Thane's shows are endurance events: two hours of sustained tones, circular breathing and a voice that seems to occupy the room's architecture rather than merely fill it. We met in the empty hall where she rehearses, a church basement with the pews pushed against the walls.

"People think drone is about patience," she says. "It's not. It's about attention. Patience implies waiting for something to end. Attention is staying because you want to hear what happens next."

Thane learned to sing from her grandmother, a folk singer who never recorded a note. "She taught me that the voice is a room you carry with you. I'm still trying to build mine." The new record, recorded over three nights with the hall's natural reverb as the only effect, is the closest she has come.