Cerca:field recordings

Introducing our second vinyl release, Stagecraft, a mesmerizing EP by Field Recordings on WH8'S. Immerse yourself in a captivating blend of electronic sounds, featuring intricate melodies, pulsating basslines, and rich harmonies. The EP also includes a special remix by Monica Venturella, adding a unique and dynamic perspective to the original tracks.

"We are delighted to be able to bring you these gorgeous field recordings from the Sumedang Province of West Java which, over their 50 minutes, present two distinct sides of Sundanese musical and devotional culture.

Although West Java is a Muslim country, these recordings highlight currents of pre-Islamic animist beliefs and practices that continue to flourish in the small towns and villages of the highlands of West Java. The recordings showcase two forms of trance music that are essential to the spiritual life of the Sundanese people in the highland regions.

Tarawangsa trance music is a traditional ceremonial genre known for its deep spiritual and hypnotic qualities. This music is made using only two instruments, the tarawangsa, a two-stringed fiddle, accompanied by the jentreng, a seven-stringed zither, creating a unique blend of resonant, droning sounds. Historically, tarawangsa music has been performed as part of sacred rituals and agricultural celebrations to honor local deities and ancestors, particularly associated with the Sunda culture. The minimalist, repetitive melodies gradually build, guiding participants and listeners into a meditative, trance-like state, during which dancers can be possessed by the spirits of ancestors or deities from the spirit realm, the music serving as a link between the two worlds.

In stark contrast to the calm, medititive sound of tarawangsa, we also present here two long pieces from Panca Buana Reak Group. Sundanese Reak trance music is like the punk rock of Sunda folk music, combining powerful and driving rhythms played on a number of hand drums and percussion instruments with the buzzing sound of the tarompet, a double reed wind instrument often amplified through whatever mobile speaker system might be at hand. Sometimes the group will play gamelan gongs, as heard on the first piece on the album, although this remains a music that is popular mainly with the working class youth of the rural villages, many of whom will also be fans of Indonesia's burgeoning metal and punk scenes. Reak performances are often wild, anarchic events that feature masked dancers, costumes, public trancing and spirit possession.

These recordings were made by Xenia At during her travels through West Java earlier this year. The tarawangsa recordings were made in a home in the village of Rancakalong on the evening of 17th January 2024, while Panca Buana Reak Group were recorded during rehersals in the village of Cinunuk on 19th and 20th January 2024."

Limited edition of 100 copies.

The musicians:
Overture (played by Panca Buana Reak Group, musicians: Rian Hidayat, Daffa, Rendi, Haswa, Doni, Aconk, Bayu, Zidan, Iwan Uwak, ⁠Mahadewa Sehu, ⁠Bebet, Adi, Bebet).
Reundeu - Master Yayat (kacapi), Tedi Kurniadi (tarawangsa).
Degung - Master Yayat (kacapi), Teguh Permana (tarawangsa).
Pamapag__Gelar Mataram__Panimang__Limbangan - Akbar Nendi (kacapi) & Tedi Kurniadi (tarawangsa).
Reak Lugay Pusaka Pajajaran (played by Panca Buana Reak Group, musicians: Aconk (tong), Rendi (brung), Hendrik (tarompet), Ade (kecrek), Riki (bedug), Doni (talingtit), Adi (badublag).

Xenia would like to extend gratitude to:
Master Yayat, Tedi Kurniadi, Akbar Nendi, and Teguh Permana for their incredible talent that turned this recording into a magical experience.
Ibrahim Adi Surya for technical support.
The Juarta Putra and Panca Buana Reak groups for explaining the cultural significance of local traditions.
Anggun Tresnasari for sharing her deep knowledge of regional music traditions.
Igor Moskalenko, Kate Snap, Stasya Frolova, Roman Gold, Misha Maltsev, Ilona Popychko, Galih Muhammad, Wildan Wiliansyah, Rizalu Ramadhan, Rahi Rahmat, Fahmi Solihin and Muhammad Ismael whose unwavering belief made this project possible.

Hive Mind would like to thank Luigi Monteanni (Artetetra) and Palmer Keen (Aural Archipelago) for their invaluable work and research in this region.

Audionaut sound adventurer Neil Stringfellow (aka Audio Obscura) makes a welcome return to Subexotic with his many-splendoured mixed media project Acid Field Recordings In Dub. Following years of avid field recording, Neil explains how it came about through a series of epiphanies: "It sort of started after I did a field recording introduction weekend workshop with the legend that is Chris Watson (the BBC wildlife team and ex-Cabaret Voltaire), just in terms of it being very inspirational and meeting like minded people. I've been sound recording for about 12 years now and have a good archive of sounds, and simply enjoy just listening and capturing the world. Since then over the years I've learned to really listen to the everyday soundscapes and as such I no longer walk down the street listening to a personal stereo anymore, the world can often be more exciting than music. A few memories of listening stick out which really helped form this album. I was walking up a hill in Norwich and a street cleaner was coming down pushing his cart, the broom attached to the cart but one end was bouncing up and down in the exact way a snare drum in a Dub reggae record might sound with the dub echo effect.. for a few seconds it was amazing and I stopped and stood still and just savoured the moment but of course did not have a microphone with me. Another time recording the dawn chorus in Lowestoft the chirping birds sounded intense coming from different trees and walking between the trees seemed to make the classic 303 acid squelch sound. part of this is in the middle section of the Babyloniacid track. Another time I was recording in a forest after a storm sitting under thick trees trying to keep the mics dry and the wind blowing the tops of the trees was like a swooshing synth line. I always liked the moments when the soundscapes felt like music and over time had a desire to marry music and field sounds together. Things really came together though when in summer 2022 I had a minor operation and was resting in bed after the operation, high on painkillers feeling quite spaced out. It was in the middle of a heat wave and the nurses had opened the ward windows, it was evening and I could see pink clouds but the sunset was out of view. I'd been listening to the Eno / Harmonia album and after that ended, I put on some Burial. I just lay there watching the clouds and the title Acid Field Recordings In Dub just came into my head... I could hear how the concept should be: made with field recordings, manipulating them and creating ambient soundscapes... dubby beats fractured in places and snatches of the acid 303. This is more or less what I wrote down that day and a few weeks later I started to create it... the process came easy and at first, I thought I'd need to spend some time making new extra field recordings but, to be honest, I has such an archive I pulled most of the sounds from that." Music, electronics & field recording by Neil Stringfellow. Design & mastering by Dan Seville. Test siren on 'Through Nuclear Skies' recorded by Marc Weidenbaum. Melodica on 'Hollowlands' played by Simon McCorry

In the 1950s and 60s, the blues was the dominant form of Black vernacular music throughout Texas and the surrounding areas In segregated neighborhoods, community members gathered in saloons, dancehalls, and each other's homes to hear their neighbors sing their stories of sorrow, heartbreak, jubilation, and triumph. Robert "Mack" McCormick, an academically untrained but fanatical devotee of the blues, stepped into this world and became one of its most devout advocates and documentarians. By photographing Black and Latino Texans and their neighborhoods, as well as recording and interviewing musicians, many of whom never stepped foot into a proper recording studio, McCormick endeared and eventually embedded himself into these communities. By the time he died in 2015, McCormick had amassed a collection of 590 reels of sound recordings and 165 boxes of manuscripts, original interviews and research notes, thousands of photographs and negatives, playbills, and posters. Because McCormick never published or released most of these materials, his collection became a thing of legend and intense speculation among scholars, blues aficionados, and musicians alike. 'Playing for the Man at the Door..' is the first compilation of music drawn from this fabled collection, which indelibly documents a pivotal moment in African American history. It features never- before- heard performances not only from musicians who became icons in their own right, including Lightnin' Hopkins and Mance Lipscomb, but also, crucially, performers whose names may be unfamiliar to even the most devoted blues fans and scholars. Newly mastered recordings and accompanying photographs bring to life many of these forgotten figures: offering insight into their lives and illuminating in new, enlightening ways their joys and anguish, deep social connections, distinctive voices, and cultural networks. The collection spans gospel, ragtime, country blues dirges, the unclassifiable music of George "Bongo Joe" Coleman, and more, showing that no community, no matter how tight knit, is monolithic. Accompanying the music is a 128- page book, which contains breathtaking photographs by McCormick and his associates, as well as contextual essays by producers Jeff Place and John Troutman on McCormick's life, and by musicians Mark Puryear and Dom Flemons on some of the marginalized communities throughout "Greater Texas" to which McCormick devoted his life's work.

The Works of John B. McLemore, the star of one of last years biggest podcasts, S-Town, which is coming out on Dais. The story behind this release is truly fascinating.. the music itself is ambient remixes of Tor Lundvall's best works, but with John's idiosyncratic slant on them, with some having been woven together using the horde of clocks he use to keep in his basement. This story is really worth a read if you get a chance."In September 2012, I received an e-mail from someone named John B. who said he had assembled a lengthy remix of my music, which also incorporated some of his own material. John asked if I'd mind if he posted this recording on YouTube, to which I agreed. He also mentioned that there was a second part to his mix that was "roughed out", but never completed. I was curious to hear both parts, so shortly afterwards, John mailed me two CDrs which I enjoyed very much. The recordings were hypnotic and haunting, evoking images of vast fields at twilight. I was especially fond of the second disc which had a darker atmosphere and featured more of John's original material, beginning with ghostly clock chimes and ending with a mysterious piece using dried seed pods and other cryptic sounds that slowly built-up into an intense, almost claustrophobic environment.

My correspondence with John lasted about two months. In one of his final e-mails, John said "I have to observe that your paintings seem to have a great deal of loneliness involved in them... even multiple characters seem to be together alone, so to speak... I really appreciate looking at your paintings as well as your music, I think I have connected with the spirit of them both as much as anyone can." He went on to discuss his struggles with depression, caring for his aging mom and his concerns about the future. I tried to encourage his music as a possible outlet, perhaps as a means to help transform his feelings of loneliness into a more content solitude. Always easy to say, but as I well know, not always easy to do.

In his last e-mail in late October 2012, John sent me a beautiful slideshow of his Fall flower beds and his dogs. I was touched and I told him how much watching his video had brightened my day. That was the last time I heard from him.

Last year, I visited John's YouTube channel to see if Part One of his mix was still posted, which it was, and still remains. I was shocked and saddened to read in the comments section that he had passed away. The comments also suggested that John had received some sort of national attention recently. This quickly led me to the S-Town podcast. Although I had mixed reactions after listening, I was thankful that S-Town shed more light on John and his remarkable life... but somehow, I just couldn't place the person in the podcast with the person I had corresponded with. Had I not listened to S-Town, I would have remembered John as a very private, somewhat dark and lonely person. He may have been these things, but there was obviously far more to him than that.

After finishing the final episode, I decided to play the second, unreleased CDr of John's recordings for the first time in years. Listening to his clock chimes ringing in the dark was an eerie and chilling moment. I was reminded of a line from my song "29" which says "I live with dreams and a lonely mind, my clock is set to a different time". I wondered what those lyrics might have meant to him.

John had mentioned that he wasn't satisfied with his final mix, but I felt his work was too special not to be heard. I hope that these recordings offer another glimpse into the creative mind of a unique, complex and gifted individual who tragically left this world all too early."

Tor Lundvall
January 17th, 2018

JOHN B.'s NOTES:

This is what was intended to be the second part of my Tor Lundvall Remix series. Unfortunately I am dissatisfied with it due to a few defects, and it is highly unlikely that I will ever be able to complete it. Still it serves as a testament to my interest in the work of Tor Lundvall that I made it this far. Defects are as follows: The first movement is too 'fussy', and the first section of the fifth movement seems a bit long and may bore the listener, but since it consisted of so many slow moving textures, I don't know how I could redo it and still achieve what I was wanting to accomplish. Additionally, this recording was done just days before my Father died, and there are many feelings of guilt associated with the time spent on it. If you are receiving this recording, either you are one of my better friends, or you are a great admirer of Tor Lundvall, and requested that I send it to you.

1st Part: Basically a track of me fiddling around with old clock bells, and air turbulence mixed with Tor Lundvall and Field Recordings of rain, birds, cicadas, frogs and such.

2nd Part: My interpretation of Lundvall's Dark Spring. This track was inspired by the music of Carl Michael von Hausswolff.

3rd Part: Very ambient Field Recordings inspired by the work of Francisco Lopez.

4th Part: A Very Quiet passage consisting of delicate Field Recordings.

5th Part: Music performed entirely by me inspired by the Darker paintings of Tor Lundvall. Most of the instruments on this piece consisted of dried seed pods from the plant; Showy Rattlebox (Crotolaria Spectabilis), that I had collected and dried the previous Fall. There are other sounds from my own environment as well.

This mix was assembled in the Late Fall of 2003. There are some very Quiet passages in this piece, so it requires a nearly Isolated listening environment... It should be heard After Midnight, in the Late Fall of the year, and, not surprisingly, a Very Long Attention span is a Prerequisite.

John B. McLemore
September 10, 2012

One of the most innovative and ambitious albums ever made, Genioh Yamashirogumi’s Ecophony Rinne is a sonic masterpiece featuring over 200 musicians that expanded the limits of what music and sound could do.

Before Akira there was Ecophony Rinne. Originally released in 1986, Ecophony Rinne is a four-part symphony of “ecological music” by Geinoh Yamashirogumi that married ancient tradition with technological innovation, and changed the way we listen to music in the process.

Half-speed mastered at Abbey Road by Miles Showell, Time Capsule’s high-tech analogue reissue is the first to reproduce composer Ōhashi’s ground-breaking “Hypersonic Effect” theory on vinyl, cutting frequencies beyond the realm of human hearing into wax to capture the full spectrum emotional impact of this extraordinary work.

Founded by genius polymath Tsutomu Ōhashi aka Shoji Yamashiro, Geinoh Yamashirogumi is a shapeshifting collective of over a hundred members from across disciplines. Rejecting professional musicianship, Ōhashi cultivated an ethos where neuroscientists, psychologists, doctors, journalists, engineers and students could critique society through artistic expression and pursue their research in ethnomusicological performances that spanned global traditions, Eastern spirituality and Western classical form.

Ecophony Rinne represents the pinnacle of this vision - an expansive orchestral suite made with over 200 musicians that channeled Ōhashi’s thinking about mankind’s relationship with nature, and fundamental questions of life, death and rebirth.

Here pipe organ synths made from sampled Tibetan horns sit alongside field recordings from Central African forests, Buddhist mantras circle dummy head microphones, Javanese Jegog percussion ensembles pulse like verdant ecosystems, and the acoustics of temples, caves and landscapes are conveyed in the mix. Weaving together culture, nature and technology, it is a record that vibrates with the polyphony of life on Earth.

But Ecophony Rinne was not only musically innovative. Noticing the difference between vinyl and CD versions of the album where digital reproduction limited the sound, Ōhashi developed a theory of “Hypersonic Effect”, determining that ultra-high frequencies above 20khz can impact human perception even if they are inaudible. At once a physical and a psychological experience, to listen to Ecophony Rinne is to feel music differently.

The rest is history. After its release, Ōhashi was approached by director Katsuhiro Ōtomo to produce the soundtrack for Akira, the work for which Geinoh Yamashirogumi is best known. Emerging from the shadows at last, Ecophony Rinne was its transcendental blueprint, reissued in its most complete hypersonic form on vinyl for the first time.

Rather than describe nature, Ecophony Rinne embodied it. Rather than reflect culture, Ecophony Rinne defined it. Rather than explore technology, Ecophony Rinne changed it. As a work of art, it is more relevant than ever. You won’t have heard anything like it.

Levi Bruce returns to Pacific Rhythm under his Unknown Mobile moniker for the first time since 2019 with a project entitled Field Work. The project is focused around field recordings taken during the winter and spring of 2025.

These recordings come from both his travels abroad while on tour and areas near his home in Whitehorse, Yukon Territory, located on the traditional lands of the Ta’an Kwäch’än Council and Kwanlin Dün First Nation.

Each field recording acts as the basis for a journal entry taken at the location. Raw data was used to reflect on the people, actions, and environmental elements connected to the site through additional production and manipulation.

Death Is Not The End present a further volume of Arja Kastinen's eerie amalgamations of 110 year old wax cylinders with her own meticulously transcribed takes, this time focussing in on Armas Otto Väisänen's field recordings of kantele player Iivana Mišukka (b. 1861 d.1919).

"Ivana Mišukka (1861–1919) was one of the Karelian kantele players recorded by the folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen on wax cylinders in 1916 and 1917. In the early 20th century, the remote areas of Border Karelia were undergoing the final phase of a transformation in musical culture, with the ancient runo song tradition giving way to newer forms of music. This transition is reflected in Mišukka's repertoire and choice of instrument. The ancient small kantele, hollowed out of a single piece of wood, was already rare at the turn of the century. Mišukka's kantele was a new type of instrument with 26 strings, constructed of several parts, but he played it using the traditional plucking technique. Like other Border Karelian kantele players, his repertoire consisted of music rooted in runosong culture, as well as newer dances and songs from the east and west. Most of the recorded material falls into the latter category.

Ivan Bogdanov Mišukka was born out of wedlock in Suursara village, Suistamo, on 1 May 1861. He began playing the kantele at the age of five or six, quickly mastering the instrument. In adulthood, he was considered one of the area's best master players. Mišukka was landless for most of his life and lived in different parts of the Suistamo parish. His first wife, Tekla Markintytär, died in 1897 at the age of 40, and his second wife, Jevdokia Filipintytär Jeminen, died in 1907 at the age of 50. Seven children were born from the first marriage, two of whom died young. The third wife, Maria Ignatintytär Gurnan (Kuurnanen), was a well-known master of lamentations. Together with Maria, Iivana Mišukka worked as a tenant farmer in the village of Suursara. Mišukka suffered from rheumatism, which prevented him from participating in physical work like Maria. This was apparently partly the reason why Iivana Mišukka went to earn extra money by playing the kantele on gig trips. He often had other traditional artists from Suistamo as his travelling companions, such as the runosingers Konstantin Kuokka and Iivana Onoila. Iivana Mišukka died in Leppäsyrjä village, Suistamo, on 18 May 1919 at the age of 58, and his kantele was donated to Teppana Jänis.

Mišukka only used 14 of the 26 strings on his kantele, playing the same tunes either a fourth higher or lower. He tuned his kantele to the major scale using fifths, except for a low seventh scale degree on the upper strings, but not below the fundamental. Since he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all, he could use the major scale both lower and a fourth higher with this tuning. According to Mišukka, the sound of higher, or 'finer', strings is 'more beautiful', while that of lower ones is 'greater'. Among runosingers, the size of the thirds varied, ranging from major to minor to neutral. A similar phenomenon can be observed in kantele tunings, where the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees vary in a comparable way.

During a meeting, Väisänen suggested that Mišukka play the smaller kantele belonging to Konstantin Kuokka. The idea was to bring it closer to the horn to improve the recording quality. However, the kantele was completely out of tune, and now Mišukka tuned it to the Lydian scale (track 18).

Using the old plucking technique, Mišukka placed his right middle finger on the fundamental tone, his right index finger on the second scale degree, his left middle finger on the third scale degree and his left index finger on the fourth scale degree, and his right thumb on the fifth. The thumb also played the notes above the fifth note of the scale. As Mišukka remarked to Väisänen: 'Peigaloll' tuloo enemb ruadoa' (the thumb has to do more work). However, he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all. Below the fundamental note, he played the seventh and sixth notes of the scale with his right middle finger of and the fifth note of the scale with his right ring finger. This fifth scale degree below the fundamental is almost always used as a drone. Sometimes, when the melody required it, Mišukka, like other players, also varied the fingering. He would also occasionally strike the same string with the side of his fingernail after plucking it.

The wax cylinder recordings of Karelian kantele players are kept in the archives of the Finnish Literature Society in Helsinki, Finland. Copies were made of them onto reel-to-reel tapes in both the 1960s and 1980s. The 1960s copies are mono and the 1980s copies are stereo. However, not all kantele recordings from these decades have survived.

The sound of the kantele is difficult to hear in wax cylinder recordings due to its low volume, and it occasionally becomes completely obscured by noise. During the copying process, the cylinder sometimes rotates unevenly, resulting in breaks or jumps in the music. Additionally, the rotation speed of the cylinder in the copies does not correspond to the performance speed of the original music, which alters the pitch. However, since Väisänen's precise notes are available in the archive, it is possible to deduce the melodies, their speed, and the tuning level of the kantele in the recordings. Of the copies of the original recordings from the 1960s and 1980s, I have selected the one that best met the requirements of this publication and adjusted the speed of the recording to align with Väisänen's notes. To enhance the listening experience, I have replayed the songs, which now partly overlap the old recordings on this release."

— Arja Kastinen

Death Is Not The End present a further volume of Arja Kastinen's eerie amalgamations of 110 year old wax cylinders with her own meticulously transcribed takes, this time focussing in on Armas Otto Väisänen's field recordings of kantele player Iivana Mišukka (b. 1861 d.1919).

"Ivana Mišukka (1861–1919) was one of the Karelian kantele players recorded by the folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen on wax cylinders in 1916 and 1917. In the early 20th century, the remote areas of Border Karelia were undergoing the final phase of a transformation in musical culture, with the ancient runo song tradition giving way to newer forms of music. This transition is reflected in Mišukka's repertoire and choice of instrument. The ancient small kantele, hollowed out of a single piece of wood, was already rare at the turn of the century. Mišukka's kantele was a new type of instrument with 26 strings, constructed of several parts, but he played it using the traditional plucking technique. Like other Border Karelian kantele players, his repertoire consisted of music rooted in runosong culture, as well as newer dances and songs from the east and west. Most of the recorded material falls into the latter category.

Ivan Bogdanov Mišukka was born out of wedlock in Suursara village, Suistamo, on 1 May 1861. He began playing the kantele at the age of five or six, quickly mastering the instrument. In adulthood, he was considered one of the area's best master players. Mišukka was landless for most of his life and lived in different parts of the Suistamo parish. His first wife, Tekla Markintytär, died in 1897 at the age of 40, and his second wife, Jevdokia Filipintytär Jeminen, died in 1907 at the age of 50. Seven children were born from the first marriage, two of whom died young. The third wife, Maria Ignatintytär Gurnan (Kuurnanen), was a well-known master of lamentations. Together with Maria, Iivana Mišukka worked as a tenant farmer in the village of Suursara. Mišukka suffered from rheumatism, which prevented him from participating in physical work like Maria. This was apparently partly the reason why Iivana Mišukka went to earn extra money by playing the kantele on gig trips. He often had other traditional artists from Suistamo as his travelling companions, such as the runosingers Konstantin Kuokka and Iivana Onoila. Iivana Mišukka died in Leppäsyrjä village, Suistamo, on 18 May 1919 at the age of 58, and his kantele was donated to Teppana Jänis.

Mišukka only used 14 of the 26 strings on his kantele, playing the same tunes either a fourth higher or lower. He tuned his kantele to the major scale using fifths, except for a low seventh scale degree on the upper strings, but not below the fundamental. Since he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all, he could use the major scale both lower and a fourth higher with this tuning. According to Mišukka, the sound of higher, or 'finer', strings is 'more beautiful', while that of lower ones is 'greater'. Among runosingers, the size of the thirds varied, ranging from major to minor to neutral. A similar phenomenon can be observed in kantele tunings, where the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees vary in a comparable way.

During a meeting, Väisänen suggested that Mišukka play the smaller kantele belonging to Konstantin Kuokka. The idea was to bring it closer to the horn to improve the recording quality. However, the kantele was completely out of tune, and now Mišukka tuned it to the Lydian scale (track 18).

Using the old plucking technique, Mišukka placed his right middle finger on the fundamental tone, his right index finger on the second scale degree, his left middle finger on the third scale degree and his left index finger on the fourth scale degree, and his right thumb on the fifth. The thumb also played the notes above the fifth note of the scale. As Mišukka remarked to Väisänen: 'Peigaloll' tuloo enemb ruadoa' (the thumb has to do more work). However, he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all. Below the fundamental note, he played the seventh and sixth notes of the scale with his right middle finger of and the fifth note of the scale with his right ring finger. This fifth scale degree below the fundamental is almost always used as a drone. Sometimes, when the melody required it, Mišukka, like other players, also varied the fingering. He would also occasionally strike the same string with the side of his fingernail after plucking it.

The wax cylinder recordings of Karelian kantele players are kept in the archives of the Finnish Literature Society in Helsinki, Finland. Copies were made of them onto reel-to-reel tapes in both the 1960s and 1980s. The 1960s copies are mono and the 1980s copies are stereo. However, not all kantele recordings from these decades have survived.

The sound of the kantele is difficult to hear in wax cylinder recordings due to its low volume, and it occasionally becomes completely obscured by noise. During the copying process, the cylinder sometimes rotates unevenly, resulting in breaks or jumps in the music. Additionally, the rotation speed of the cylinder in the copies does not correspond to the performance speed of the original music, which alters the pitch. However, since Väisänen's precise notes are available in the archive, it is possible to deduce the melodies, their speed, and the tuning level of the kantele in the recordings. Of the copies of the original recordings from the 1960s and 1980s, I have selected the one that best met the requirements of this publication and adjusted the speed of the recording to align with Väisänen's notes. To enhance the listening experience, I have replayed the songs, which now partly overlap the old recordings on this release."

— Arja Kastinen

A Sudden Burst of Noise is a study in equivalence between rotational frequency, material structure and sonic form. The album is based on sonified pulsar data and field recordings captured at a concrete radiotelescope located in the Eifel region of West Germany.

Following the core concept of BRUTALISM, architecture and infrastructure are not treated as backdrop but as structural agents. The radiotelescope – its reinforced concrete body, rotational mechanics and scientific function – serves as compositional framework. Rotational movement becomes rhythm. Structural tension becomes texture.
Measured cosmic data becomes sound.

The source material consists of astronomical measurement data translated into sound, combined with field recordings from the site itself: interacting with exposed concrete, mechanical resonance and electromagnetic presence. Dornen and Lomi process these elements into compositions that oscillate between abstraction and physical density.

The result is not a documentary representation of the site but a sonic architecture derived from it. Each track reflects a structural component: axis, mirror, descent, radiation. The record unfolds as a sequence of material states – from reduction and
erosion to rotation and amplification.

With A Sudden Burst of Noise, BRUTALISM continues its transformation of material, texture and structure into sonic forms. The vinyl format captures our site-specific research process as a physical object.

Thomas Peter debuts on Hallow Ground with »changing bodies,« an album inspired by the resonance and reaction of objects with and to sound. The Swiss composer and sound artist has worked with sounds generated with various materials, field recordings, and an array of analogue and digital synthesizers to create five ever-shifting pieces full of twists and turns in which even silence plays a significant role. Peter composed and recorded the album over the course of four years in an inherently physical process, led by both his intuition and his perception—what you hear on »changing bodies« is an artist intently listening to the material world around him.

Peter laid the foundation for »changing bodies« by making field recordings wherever he went, whether in closed rooms, cities, or rural environments, while also recording organic-sounding material with different synthesizers as well as working with objects made of wood, stone, or metal. »I viewed all these sounds as a kind of language that I was trying to understand,« he says. »I paid close attention to differences between sounds in motion, rhythmic patterns, and dense textures.« He further describes this as an inherently corporeal endeavour, quite literally becoming all ears and internalising the different sounds.

This process of concretion led to one of abstraction when Peter translated the source material and its psycho-physical reverberations into new musical structures. He applied repetition, densification, and recombination to unlock their true potential. Across its five tracks, the album sets literally unheard-of sounds into motion, creating intricate dynamics without ever overwhelming its listeners. »changing bodies« was born out of listening intently and physically.
It is recommended to listen to it in the exact same way.

An assorted mixtape-style collection of recordings from Constantin Brăiloiu's World Collection of Folk Music archive, originally broadcast on NTS Radio in July 2017, issued as part of DINTE's 10th anniversary series.

Comprising field recordings made by the pioneering Romanian ethnomusicologist of English, Irish, Gaelic, Norwegian, Breton, Japanese, Italian, Swiss, Basque, Fulah, Sardinian, Estonian, Georgian, Greek, Turkish, Judaeo-Spanish, Portuguese, French, Chinese, Russian, Hausa, Tuareg, Indian, Corsican, Ethiopian, Romanian, Walloon, Flemish, German, Kabyle, Bulgarian, Macedonian, Bosnian and Caribou Eskimo folk songs & dances.

Demilitarize follows Nazar’s remarkable 2020 debut Guerrilla, which reprocessed Angolan kuduro music with rough textures, field recordings and media clips, telling a personal story of the civil war that exiled his family to Europe, while his father, a rebel General, fought a losing battle in the jungle back home. After Guerrilla, and an extended period of serious illness, now Demilitarize is motivated by a reckoning with mortality and the flowering of new love, turning the ‘rough kuduro’ of Guerrilla inside out.This is a deep sound world, genuinely dreamy, the arc of the album describing shedding the armour of trauma and surrendering to this new situation. A constant and unexpected aspect of Demilitarize is Nazar's gentle, submerged vocal. Insistent and mantra-like, it’s like a cross between Elisabeth Frazer, Arthur Russell and Frank Ocean, and the music is fragile and opaque in response. The rhythms of kuduro are still here,but move around his voice like fish around a swimmer, while precise sound design illuminates from different angles. Chords spiral, ripple and shoot through the beats giving tracks the loosest of settings; songs disassemble; vocals float off-centre.

She studied classical music on viola from the age of 3 through into college where she was on a path to be a performer in a large ensemble, but eventually left after feeling frustrated and limited in a world that did not provide much of an outlet for individual creativity. But the doors of perception really opened when she moved to British Columbia and was exposed to the raw beauty of the wilderness there.

She began recording at home using a basic audio setup along with a cello, viola, violin and double bass, and spent time making field recordings of natural sounds in BC. Her next idea was to actually move into nature to record, curious as to “how it would sound if I recorded outside entirely, with the natural reverb and sounds of the environment in the recording from the very beginning. The rustling of the leaves or a raven’s beating wings were as integral to the music as whatever I played.”

Fables is a mix of pieces that were recorded in the fall of 2024, in a small, remote cabin and outside, primarily using stringed instruments. The result is a series of stunning vignettes, meditations patiently unfurling like gentle waves, slowly advancing and retreating.4, in a small, remote cabin and outside, primarily using stringed instruments. The result is a series of stunning vignettes, meditations patiently unfurling like gentle waves, slowly advancing and retreating.

Drawing from traditions of musique concrète and ambient synthesis, The Vertical Luminous creates a world of textural depth and microscopic wonder. Across its tracks, bubbling tones, processed field recordings, and shifting electronic layers intertwine, evoking the sensation of listening in on the hidden rhythms of atoms, molecules, and micro-organisms.
'While grounded in experimental technique, The Vertical Luminous avoids the academic or austere, instead embracing a mischievous sense of melody and curiosity - a reminder that exploration and joy can coexist in sound.
'The result is a record that is both meditative and playful, equally suited to deep listening or casual drift.'

Tape

Around the Songster's Commune was made quite quickly and purposefully without a lot of fuss -- made to preserve the spirit of its making -- at Diana Duta's generous Jambes studio in Brussels. It's a collection of meditations: compositional fragments, whimsy ditties, field recordings and (live/d) experiments with troubadour song-making methodologies. It's a sonic drift -- sonically drifts. Here, Bergur seems to be exploring the looseness of world-making. Or, maybe better said, exploring how loose he can get with world-making and the realization of sonic realities. Exploring how unconscious, how trusting of himself, as an artist/composer/sound-maker/human, he can be.

Mean Field Mutation is a thermodynamic phenomenon occurring just below the vaporization point of voracious growth. It relies on the debris of false and almost forgotten narratives. Astral residue of consumer angst, echoes of obsolete newspeak and oscillations of promotional imbecilities collide with free floating particles hovering under the radar of the megamachine. In steady intervals, this results in a meltdown producing random waves of reconfigurations driven by cryptic but sanguine naivety.
Released on Lustpoderosa, Mean Field Mutation is the first musical output by Des Coda. Written and produced by Piero Scherer during the pandemic winter of 2021 in his bedroom studio in Zurich. Moving between playful
serenity and feral distortion, it was produced by layering sounds from field recordings, radio and TV clips, as wellas sequences from drum machines and analogue synthesizers. Taking a stance against commercial copyright, all stems of this production are available for download free of charge and ready to be reappropriated.
Des Coda is an open field for collaborative, cultural experiments beyond the conventional understanding of authorship and representation. It engages with an artistic position that defines the creative process as an interplay between context and concept. The resulting work is not a rigid product of authoritarian ingenuity, but a sensitive, living organism guided by the tensions between society and individual. Des Coda is the zestful curiosity rummaging through the rubble of the present in search of future aesthetics.

‘Since the 16th century, the Ecuadorian province of Esmeraldas has been home to a unique Afro-Indigenous culture originating in the integration of the Indigenous Chachi and Nigua peoples with African Maroon communities. Juyungo documents significant Esmeraldan artists and bands playing the Afro-Ecuadorian folklore of the province, as well as including some older field recordings. Based mostly on the marimba, whose origins lie partly in the African balafon, partly in Indigenous percussion instruments, the music is laced with call and response chants, ambient insect and bird noise, the filigree finger-styles of the Andean guitar tradition and the panpipes of the mountains. This is resonant insider roots music at its headiest — the mystic revelation of Esmeraldas, gully deep and lustral.’
- Francis Gooding, The Wire.


The fifth in our series of LPs compiling classic music from Ecuador. Customary Honest Jons runnings: a beautiful gatefold sleeve; superior pressing, with vivid, intimate sound; full-size, sixteen-page booklet, in colour throughout, with detailed, fascinating, bi-lingual notes, and stunning photographs.

The music is transfixing, magical; not like anything else. From start to finish, this album is continuously, profoundly immersive; a kind of journeying, trippy meditation about slavery and cultural resistance, identity and mix, places and spaces, futures and pasts. It’s inscrutable to net-surfing, algorithms, Shuffle. But for a taste try the insurgent marimba roller Agua Largo, jet-propelled by Rosa Huila’s rapturous blend of African spiritualist and Christian chant. ‘Healing music,’ Zakia called it on Gilles Peterson’s BBC show recently. And the ravishing pasillo Kasilla Shungulla — ‘calm your heart’ in the Quichua language — a duet between the Peruvian master-guitarist Raúl García Zárate and viola da gamba by Juan Luis Restrepo from Medellin, recorded in a baroque church in Buzbanza, Colombia.

Chalybeate documents a month long stay by Tokyo based producer aus in Ikaho, one of Japan's most established Onsen (hot spring) towns, during autumn 2024.

Working from field-recordings captured inside multiple ryokan baths, aus synthesized the subterranean movement of the onsen's with local details: the bubbling of source water, the hoozuki lantern plants and wind chimes placed at each inn, and the surrounding insects and birds. Rather than portraying Ikaho as a landscape, the recordings trace the town's respiration.

The material was first presented on site as an installation unfolding across eight different baths, where visitors listened while soaking in roten-buro (open air hot baths). The project drew wide attention for proposing listening as a bodily act, inseparable from heat, moisture, and duration.

Chalybeate re constructs that installation as an album. The recordings were left to sit for a year within Ikaho's air and humidity, allowing the sound itself to slowly change. The title refers to Ikaho's iron rich mineral water, known as "Golden Water," which oxidizes upon contact with air and leaves rust colored traces in its baths. Following this process, the album's sound was repeatedly re submerged and re worked, gradually absorbing a corroded texture.

Tape hiss, gentle distortion, and subtle fluctuations rise quietly, like steam.
What remains is not documentation but residue.

Mixing was handed over to Manchester based producer The Humble Bee by Craig Tattersall, known for his work with The Boats and The Remote Viewer, after aus exhausted himself traversing Ikaho's steep stone steps. The exchange mirrors the work itself: from bathtub to hot spring, from sound to something that surrounds the body.

Woodwind like tape noise and the movement of water dissolve into one another.
The music does not arrive all at once. It settles slowly, as if lowering into warm water.

The latest in Field Records' run of essential vinyl pressings revisits Stephen Hitchell's 2009 masterpiece under his Variant alias, The Setting Sun. As part of Echospace and also celebrated for his productions as Intrusion and Soultek, Hitchell is considered a leading light in dub techno, with the versatility in his sound to range from rhythmic, physical pulses to purely tonal, abyssal drone. His work as Variant, which debuted with The Setting Sun, capitalises on this scope to deliver a compelling ambient-with-teeth set richly deserving of a proper vinyl pressing.

The Setting Sun first emerged on Echospace as a download-only release. Hitchell was at pains to map out the tools that went into the sound on the album — field recordings of storms in Berlin, Germany and train rides in Narita, Japan, outboard synths and samplers. Crucially, he declared no computers were used, and it shows. When The Setting Sun was recorded, in-the-box production was largely dominating electronic music and the technology had yet to replicate the warmth and character of analogue equipment. Hitchell's looming chords come baked with harmonic overtones, surface noise becomes another essential layer and fragments of distortion add to the narrative of these glacial, monumental pieces.

Hitchell threads his dub techno tendencies in subtle ways, from the kick pattering underneath 'As Time Stood Still' to the quintessential metallic delay ripples that define 'A Silent Storm'. 'Someplace Else' has a defined, albeit delicate, rhythm section guiding its lighter shades of pads and chords. However, drums are never a dominant aspect of the music, simply another layer in an intentionally coagulated whole. At times, flickering tones hint at space where percussion once stood, since muted to leave the wet signal setting a new course for the sound, somewhere far beyond drum duties. The hushed ceremony of tracks like 'Adrift' are the perfect scenario in which to absorb these microfibres of detail, where the genius of Hitchell can truly be savoured.

In line with the limitations of record pressing and Hitchell's proclivity for long-form tracks, 'The Setting Sun' is reserved for the digital edition of this reissue. It's a logical move, as the sound palette widens to encompass tangible, organic instrumentation evolving over the best part of half an hour. The presence of piano keys feels stark in the Variant sound world, but Hitchell ably folds these coded elements into his process bathed in the same curious luminosity that lingers around all his work. Evolving at a painstaking pace, the plaintive humanity in the cascading keys and plucked guitar strings renders one of the most personal expressions in Hitchell's considerable canon — a unique piece that holds its own space comfortably, while also adding to the overall weight of The Setting Sun as a profound benchmark in a stellar discography.

Numbered 150 copies on green vinyl.

The duo Sławek Pezda & Witek Ryć is a project by Krakow-based musicians, a hybrid of ambient, noise, experimental music, jazz, trance, electronica, and ethnic music. The two musicians' musical paths were united by the practice of meditation, which also significantly translates into their musical language and the need to share the peace that flows to the listener through sound.

In their recordings and live performances, the musicians utilize tenor saxophone, modular synthesizers, electronics, drums, flutes, drum pads, Tibetan bowls, gongs, and a wide array of percussion instruments. They have played together in improvised concerts, relaxation concerts, chamber sessions, and even spiritual jazz.

"Kardamon" is the result of one of the live sessions, where the rhythm, based on a simple pulse flowing from a frame drum, accompanied by Ankle Bells (Indian janissary bells played with the foot), is enriched by Sławek's tenor saxophone. In addition to the aforementioned instruments, a synthesizer and a Roland HPD 20 drum machine were also used, accompanied by various percussion instruments (shaker, chimes, bells, etc.), as well as a fragment of Witek's own field recordings from the Polesie National Park.

The remix on the B-side was created by DJ PLASH, who gave the duo's original sounds a completely new dimension. Plash (Marcin Przeplasko) is arguably one of the most sought-after DJs playing for b-girls and b-boys worldwide, a feat culminating in his official performance behind the turntables at the last Summer Olympics. PLASH is Witek's neighbor from Krakow's Nowa Huta district.

The front cover artwork is a painting by Witek Ryć, and the entire album was assembled and framed by Animisiewasz. Mastering was handled by Eprom. The single is limited to 150 copies and is being released by Funky Mamas and Papas Recordings, a label specializing in seven-inch singles since 2008.

WRWTFWW Records is very happy to announce the release of Interwoven, the deeply moving collaborative album from Ken-ichiro Isoda and aus (Yasuhiko Fukuzono) — now available on limited edition transparent sea green colored vinyl LP housed in a heavyweight sleeve with selective-varnish 3D print, as well as in digipack CD and digital formats.
Recorded between Hachijo Island and Tokyo, Interwoven distills two visionary voices of Japanese ambient and electronic music into a single breath of feather-light and quietly luminous meditative sound.

Isoda is a revered figure of New-age and environmental music whose work on Oscilation Circuit – Série Réflexion 1 (originally released on famed label Sound Process) has long attained mythic status. He composes, notably with harp and wind instruments, produces contemporary music and video game scores, and crafts his very own brand of ambient music from the volcanic island of Hachijo-jima. Tokyo-based electronic composer and synth master aus is known for tender, melody-driven soundscapes. From the two artists comes a dialogue suspended between land and sea, bridging the generation gap and the physical distance between them.

What began as a series of sketches — impressions of water, islands, and shifting light — gradually evolved into an exchange without explanation, a correspondence of sound that dissolved boundaries. In that anonymity, both artists discovered an uncommon freedom: a place where each could move lightly and intuitively, without expectation. The music drifts with a gentle, intuitive grace: lingering piano, soft cinematic synths, and field recordings that unfold like whispered recollections, while flute and saxophone lines pass through like occasional breezes — a human presence felt as warmth more than form.

Interwoven is music for those who cherish stillness and the delicate beauty of the everyday. It’s music for admirers of Satoshi Ashikawa, Midori Takada, Satsuki Shibano, Hiroshi Yoshimura, Takashi Kokubo, Brian Eno, and all who seek a quiet refuge in sound.

Vivel is Alexander Eldefors’ second release under his own name. Built around eurorack and field recordings, many captured during still moments while traveling to visit family and friends. The album was created during a period of transition. It functions as an anchor in a time of change, representing a sense of home, safety, and stillness.

Alexander Eldefors is a producer, composer, and mixing engineer based in the countryside outside of Stockholm, Sweden. With a background as both a sound engineer and musician, he has spent years recording, mixing and playing in a wide range of bands and solo projects. In 2019, he consciously slowed down and returned to a more intimate and quiet musical expression, leading to the release of his debut album Bergen in 2020 under his own name. Bergen is the Swedish word for mountains and reflects the fact that Alexander grew up in the north of Sweden close to the mountains.

His music is minimalistic, melodic, and embracing, shaped by a deep connection to nature. Natural environments are a constant presence in his work, serving both as inspiration and as a sound source. Alongside this, he is drawn to the raw textures of everyday objects, working with foley sounds and field recordings. His arrangements unfold as organic sound collages, where elements blend freely and imperfections are preserved to maintain a natural, human feel.

DISPLACES represents Fabris' most personal musical journey to date, inspired by the concept of hyperobjects and cartographic practices. The album sculpts a high-dimensional phased time-space composed of concrete materials and digital archetypes in a state of constant displacement. It delves into the symbolic and philosophical realms of mapping as one of the greatest sense-making mechanisms for life, in dialogue with object-oriented environments, superimposition and non-locality applied to cosmic, temporal, and emotional memory.

The sonic ecosystem expands on the image of navigating a path through a set of places, from the microcosm of quanta to the macro force of dark matter, from underwater depths to overland terrains, encapsulating the cyclical flow between birth and death, both in ecological and anthropological sense. The intersection of these shifting states is explored through the extensive processing of the langspil, Iceland's only traditional instrument, intertwined with manipulated field recordings of biophonies and geophonies captured across Icelandic and Venetian territories. These recordings form the backdrop for a meditative process that relocate familiar objects into unfamiliar realms, reflecting on the transformative power of self-reflection while encapsulating the fragmentation and entanglement found in nature and the human state. The record plunges the listener into a disconcerting and physical soundscape, as a “ghostly spectrality that comes in and out of phase with normalized human spacetime,” evoking sensations of suffocation and release as each layer continuously unfolds the palimpsest of the enclosed labyrinth.

“Extraction of the I” embodies a subatomic reaction—erupting as a molecular force that rises, only to re-submerge with a solitary exhale underwater. In this mutated dark space, beluga whales breathe into "Xanadu Phasing," creating a pulsating tension that releases only to unveil a frozen landscape.

In “Barricading the Ice Sheets” the glacial material morphs into a liquid tunnel of digital artifacts, building a wall of noise that shatters into scattered fragments of ice, resembling bird calls from another world.

A moment of stasis is offered with the appearance of an asymmetrical loop in Monolith I, evoking a primitive rite before an unknown force emerges.

The physical intensity of subsonic material in "A Quake in Being" interrupts the hieratic tone, detuning into polluted sonic matter sourced from relics of the First World War in the Venetian Prealps. The geography of this place reconciles with the original homeland in "The Map is the Territory," blending negative space with anthropogenic elements and exploited sounds of the langspil.

The burning density of "Wolf-Rayet" projects into the void, echoing the residual sounds of a local church as relics of fossilized religions. Wolf tones are the remains in Monolith II, introducing the final track, "Topography of Extinction," where evolving psilocin textures invite the listener to uncover deeper layers of meaning and dislocation.

WRWTFWW Records is pleased to announce its fifth collaboration with NY-LA ambient / jazz / downtempo musician Danny Scott Lane with the first ever vinyl release of his 2022 full-length album Holy Goodnight, available on limited edition LP (500 copies worldwide) housed in a heavyweight sleeve.
After Home Decor, Shower, Caput, and Songs For Sex, here’s another Danny Scott Lane classic. On Holy Goodnight, he handles synths, keyboards, bass, guitar, percussion, and field recordings for a smooth nightride through city pop, contemplative jazz, vaporwave, slow funk, cozy ambient, library music vibes, and relaxed moods.
Holy Goodnight feels like cruising through a half-asleep city with the windows down and the radio low—lush harmonies and soft grooves guiding the way. It’s warm and hazy music for late hours and early mornings, introspective, comforting, cinematic, intimate…
Following the release of chillout staples on WRWTFWW, Danny Scott Lane further cements his unmistakable sonic universe. Complete the collection and sink deeper into the night.
Points of interest
For fans of ambient jazz, city pop, downtempo, smooth funk, vaporwave, library music, night drives, neon lights, quiet introspection, cozy late hours, and peaceful goodnights.
Super limited edition vinyl (500 copies worldwide) of Danny Scott Lane’s Holy Goodnight, available on vinyl for the first time ever.

Guests is the home recording project of Jessica Higgins and Matthew Walkerdine. Vaguely named as such to avoid any problems with the poster if they pull out of a gig (which has only happened once, about a year and half before any songs were actually written to be fair) but also to capture a sense of reverse hospitality. That is, arriving at your door with a bottle of good wine (can’t turn up empty handed) or a fist full of savoury or sweet snacks (time of day dependant); oversharing at the afters (and then passing out on your couch); reading to your toddler while you make their lunch or put everything back where it was meant to go (only to get torn apart again). So, something about what happens when private worlds meet each other, making or having been made a space for. But at times, it’s a different kind of intimacy, a temporal or material one, like the feeling of crisp fresh sheets, and abundant and soft, body-part appropriate towels in a hotel in a city you’ve been to before and love to go back to.

Their debut record, “I wish I was special”, was variously described as “a collage of concrète experiments and outerzone pop gestures, music that sounds as if it’s been written from the depths of a dream”; “music for people who love music but also hate it too”; “something like chasing ghosts or befriending a wild animal”; “pulling apart nervous sensations with haphazard ease and requisite humour”; and “a melody of refusal, of being all-in (…) finding the exact right WRONG sound to express the discontent”. Common Domestic Bird continues in this vein, layering synthesiser, keyboards and samples over rudimentary drum rhythms and field recordings, which are in turn sung or spoken with to create nine new songs.

Written and recorded between autumn 2024 and summer 2025 in Reading, Berkshire, the music has matured since its last outing, in a way, leaning less into collage and more toward structured composition and melodic depth, yet retains a healthy dose of indeterminacy and off-kilter rhythms for the forever-amateur. The songs on Common Domestic Bird hint at some “about”-ness through a series of discrete vignettes which sound a bit like architecture or end of year lists, gossip or over-thinking subjectivity, like disappearances and impressions, the support structure of the spine, letters and signs offs, things you could really do without and where they should go, hoping you’ll see something that isn’t there, pretences and performance. At times they feel kind of funny, others kind of sad or a bit angry and annoyed, a bit like you really.

A cocktail of rebellious queer vocal fragments, deceptive percussive granules and swaying hammered vibrations, upsammy and Valentina Magaletti's first collaboration trembles with suspense. The seeds of 'Seismo' were sown following a commission from Amsterdam's Rijksmuseum to soundtrack an exhibition of work from the Museum Boijmans van Beuningen in Rotterdam and the duo didn't want to approach their collaboration flippantly. So, wandering the museum's maze of rooms, they recorded various improvised percussive sounds with their arsenal of microphones, using the space to inform various rhythms and textures that were sculpted later into electroacoustic vignettes. This was just the starting point, though; as Magaletti and upsammy began performing together, the project evolved and 'Seismo' began to take shape. The duo had struck on a salient aesthetic concept, using mostly digital and acoustic mallet instruments to blur the boundary between their roles and create friction between the synthetic and the authentic. And the finished record is a phantasmagoric push-and-pull between its various conflicting elements: harmony and dissonance, randomness and predictability, openness and constraint. 'Seismo' isn't the first time that upsammy has studied her environment in search of revelation. On her acclaimed second album, 2024's 'Germ in a Population of Buildings', the Amsterdam-based DJ, producer and multidisciplinary artist erected her complex, unorthodox rhythms and eerie melodies around a modernist frame of field recordings collected in various cityscapes, countering heavyweight basslines with subtle, microscopic sounds. London-based Italian vanguard Magaletti, meanwhile, has applied her unique logic to innumerable projects at this point, working with everyone from batida icon Nídia and hardcore-dub outfit Moin to French writer Fanny Chiarello and British bass scientist Shackleton. For years she's approached the drums with criticism, attempting to challenge any preconceptions, something that's most visible on 2020's 'A Queer Anthology of Drums'. And both artists' thoughtful perspectives are welded together seamlessly on 'Seismo', a dizzying suite of eight eccentric statements that's fragile but never insecure, gauzy but not indistinct. An unnerving sense of space characterizes 'It Comes to an End' as Magaletti's in situ improvisations herald for upsammy's microscopic glitches and chiming pitch-bent melodies. It's almost unbalancing to witness the track's impossible dimensionality, the interplay between reverberant marimba hits and bone-dry synths, or percussion that's been recorded and processed in consciously different settings. A new architecture emerges in the sound itself that the two artists scan and explore meticulously, testing its boundaries with undulating hybridized rhythms on the invigorating 'Superimposed' and offsetting the powdery drums with liquified smacks and alien voices. The duo's vibrations are knotted with piano flourishes on 'Hyperlocalize', balanced with artificial clanks and clangs that disappear into the track's sonorous atmosphere, replaced by whispers and half-hallucinated insectoid chirps. 'Seismo' is an album that feeds off the energy generated by its juxtapositions: the tension and anticipation that's melted by rapid, hyperactive movement and the finely drawn rhythms disrupted by a layer of indistinct, barely perceptible microsounds. It's a collaboration that sounds like two minds challenging each other but not wrestling, each peering from their own distinct vantage point and imagining a third landscape shaped by optimistic, queer vibrations.

L. Jacobs releases his second album, Behind the Great Curve, on the Belgian label Blickwinkel. Featuring contributions from Milan W., Sarah Yu Zeebroek, and Joachim Badenhorst, the follow-up to the surprising debut Enthusiasm was initially composed and recorded in Jacobs’ small attic room and later refined at Milan W.’s Van den Nest Studio, where W. also handled production and mixing.

A line or outline which gradually deviates from being straight for some or all of its length.

Behind the Great Curve explores and celebrates the beauty and universality of the abstract notion above and what we commonly refer to as the curve. Its presence, allegedly, is everywhere. It is a form that appears visually, mathematically, and symbolically — a line that suggests motion, time, expectation, and impermanence.

This album aims to listen to all of this — the poetry, the irony, and the faint background hum of modern life — with quiet curiosity. Within a gently meandering, synthesized landscape, a collection of dreamlike compositions unfolds: delicate melodies, sparse percussion, warm buzzing synths, and fragments of field recordings coexist in carefully measured imperfection. Colorful yet minimal in aesthetic, the album does not seek to explain the curve, but to follow it.

Marking twenty years since South African producer and DJ Esa Williams left Cape Town, Dala What We Must is a deeply personal and expansive debut LP, an exploration of movement, memory, and sound shaped by two decades of creative evolution.

Co-created with collaborator and multi-instrumentalist Robin G. Breeze, the album deftly combines field recordings, layered instrumentation, and emotionally resonant compositions into a nuanced, globally influenced body of work. It also stands as Esa’s most collaborative release to date, featuring contributions from musicians across London, Oaxaca, Nairobi, and Cape Town, each adding their own creative energy to a project built on openness, trust, and shared experience.

The album draws inspiration from Esa’s recent ventures into documentary scoring and soundtracking, with projects like Cursed (Audible) and The Invisible Hand teaching him to listen differently, to honour space, to serve the story. That sensibility permeates the album, resulting in music that breathes, lingers, and listens as much as it speaks.

The title, Dala What We Must, is a South African call to action: a reminder to do what’s necessary, even in uncertainty. Finalised in the months leading up to Esa’s transition into fatherhood, the record carries a sense of grounding, care, and quiet transformation.

Dala What We Must is a sonic reflection of journey and community, a deeply collaborative project rooted in connection and guided by intention.

Marking twenty years since South African producer and DJ Esa Williams left Cape Town, Dala What We Must is a deeply personal and expansive debut LP, an exploration of movement, memory, and sound shaped by two decades of creative evolution. Co-created with collaborator and multi-instrumentalist Robin G. Breeze, the album deftly combines field recordings, layered instrumentation, and emotionally resonant compositions into a nuanced, globally influenced body of work. It also stands as Esa’s most collaborative release to date, featuring contributions from musicians across London, Oaxaca, Nairobi, and Cape Town, each adding their own creative energy to a project built on openness, trust, and shared experience. The album draws inspiration from Esa’s recent ventures into documentary scoring and soundtracking, with projects like Cursed (Audible) and The Invisible Hand teaching him to listen differently, to honour space, to serve the story. That sensibility permeates the album, resulting in music that breathes, lingers, and listens as much as it speaks.

The title, Dala What We Must, is a South African call to action: a reminder to do what’s necessary, even in uncertainty. Finalised in the months leading up to Esa’s transition into fatherhood, the record carries a sense of grounding, care, and quiet transformation. Dala What We Must is a sonic reflection of journey and community, a deeply collaborative project rooted in connection and guided by intention.

A limited edition collector’s piece to mark 10 years of Girlz B Like - the vinyl-only, female-led London-based party.

Side A unleashes ‘Love Echoes’, a genre bending underground heater from GBL founder Marcia DaVinylMC with additional keys from Uschi Classen. Afrobeat rhythms, lush keys, drum-pad grit, and a hypnotic bassline collide under a vibrant vocal hook - an irresistible, raw catalyst for freestyle dancers and left-field club devotees.

Side B delivers ‘Joy’ from Bristol’s DJ Emma - a bouncy, gospel-fired house stomper built to ignite any floor. Infectious energy, uplifting vocals, and classic vinyl flair collide in a radiant
celebration of rhythm and spirit, guaranteed to move feet, and supercharge the dance.

Limited Pressing Act Fast!

Following her debut album, I’ll Look for You in Others (Past Inside the Present), earlier this year, Patricia Wolf joins Spain’s Balmat label with See-Through, her second album. See Through finds the Portland, Oregon musician and field recordist continuing to develop her signature style of ambient, balancing radiant soundscaping with a carefully expressive sensibility. But the new album is also marked by an important difference. Where I’ll Look for You in Others was largely written in response to the death of a loved one, See-Through represents a kind of rebirth.

“After a long period of grief, I had been hoping to find my way to a place of lightness, peace, playfulness, curiosity, and sensuality again,” Wolf says. “What I was surprised and pleased to find is that for the most part, I had.”

She wrote and recorded many of the album’s songs quickly, in preparation for an August 2021 broadcast on the online radio platform 9128 Live. Excited for the opportunity to play live after more than a year of the pandemic, Wolf decided to write all new material for the event, working with a lean setup of Octatrack, Roland Synth Plus 10, Make Noise 0-Coast, and Novation Summit. (In fact, Wolf was the first sound designer invited to create patches for the Summit.) She also picked up an acoustic guitar that her brother had loaned her. “I decided to take the surrealist approach of ‘pure psychic automatism’ to see what poured out of me,” she recalls. “Woodland Encounter,” “Under a Glass Bell,” “The Grotto,” “The Mechanical Age,” “The Flaneur,” and “Psychic Sweeping” are all products of those sessions; the through line holding them together is their exploratory spirit and clarity
of vision.

Other songs, like “A Conversation With My Innocence,” “Recalibration,” and “Psychic Sweeping,” wrestle with the traumas of the preceding year. Though they may linger on the heaviness of loss, Wolf says, “What I discovered is that a stronger archetype had grown inside me to steer my emotions and thoughts to a better place.” Likewise, “Wistfulness” and “Upward Swimming Fish”—her first experiments with VST synthesizers—balance the bittersweet embrace of melancholy with the freedom to choose happiness.

“Pacific Coast Highway,” the album’s lone song with drums, might at first seem like an outlier. But it also signals Wolf’s interest in finding a fusion between the introspection of ambient and the togetherness of beat-oriented music. “Experiencing loss and isolation is what drove me into gentler territories of sound,” she says, “but I want to start making more beat-oriented music. After an extended period of loss and isolation, I’m ready to experience more joyous and social things.”

Listeners with keen ears might recognize the album’s closing song, “Springtime in Croatia”: A different mix of the song originally appeared on the 2021 digital compilation secondnature & friends Vol. II, from the Seattle label secondnature. This marks its first appearance on vinyl, however, and its spiritual home is undoubtedly here, at the close of See-Through. As the bookending answer to the opening “Woodland Encounter”—another song in which field recordings play a crucial role—it closes the circle of an album that is itself keyed to the steadily turning cycles of life.

About Alec Pace’s “Respiro 22:16”
Breath as rhythm. Breath as memory. Respiro 22:16, the debut album by Alec Pace, is a world suspended between intimacy and impact — where personal confessions are carried by low-end frequencies and fragile melodies are shaped into physical space.
Written, produced and mixed between London and Turin, this record reveals Alec Pace not only as a producer but as a storyteller through sound. Layer by layer, his voice, guitars, piano, synthesizers, drum machines, samplers, and field recordings converge to form a sonic diary — one that whispers, cracks, shimmers and erupts.
The album moves fluidly between dream pop, modern UK bass, breaks, jungle, and club music, yet its essence lies in emotion: love, memory, anticipation, release. Each track is a breath, an exhale, a fragment of something lived.
“The30th” opens with nostalgic warmth, darkness and breaks; “For You (Hello)” captures the tender rush of a love song over a drum & bass heartbeat; “Venus Winds” floats in a balance of techno pulse and harmonic light. “Angular Invariance” reshapes the floor beneath your feet, while “Respiro” pauses to listen inward — piano and air, fragile and close. “Anticipation” closes it all with a forward surge: emotional, propulsive, unresolved.
Respiro 22:16 is not just a collection of tracks, but a portrait of an artist learning to breathe out loud.

Alec Pace said:
“This album is about putting myself out there — letting every sound, chord and rhythm breathe,” says Pace. “Respiro is both a personal archive and a release.”

“Respiro 22:16” is available across all platforms on Friday 6th March 2026.

With Dispersion, Loom & Thread return to the volatile architecture of the expanded piano trio - and quietly fracture it from within.

Daniel Klein (drums), Tobias Fröhlich (double bass) and Tom Schneider (keys, sampler) remain the sole agents on stage and in the final recording. The triangle holds. And yet, the field has expanded. For their second studio album, the trio fed their improvisations with the timbral signatures of guest saxophone and vibraphone players - not just as additional voices to be featured, but also as material to be absorbed, atomized and redistributed. The result is not augmentation but thorough refraction.

Where the debut album explored the recursive labyrinth of Schneider's live sampling of his own piano, Dispersion introduces an external grain into the feedback system. Breath and metal. Reed turbulence and struck resonance. The trio sampled extended improvisations by saxophone and vibes players: Victor Fox, Asger Nissen, Volker Heuken, and L&T's own Daniel Klein; dissected their attacks, overtones and decay curves, and integrated these fragments into the trio's internal circuitry. What emerges is a play of presences without bodies - instrumental ghosts circulating through the dense weave of rhythm and keys.

At first, one might hear the familiar relational tension: Klein's polyrhythmic elasticity interlocking with Fröhlich's tensile double bass figurations, Schneider poised at the hinge between tonal field and percussive impulse. But soon, the surface splinters - again. A vibraphone shimmer appears, yet no mallets are visible. A reed multiphonic surges through the texture, bending space between bass and drums. These events are neither quotations nor overlays; they are redistributed energies, dispersed across the trio's grammar. A digital multidimensional interplay ensues.

If the first album unfolded as a two-tiered game - live phrase and sampled reflection - Dispersion adds a further axis. The sampled materials from other improvisers are stripped of their erstwhile two-way interaction and reconstituted as malleable particles. Signifier detached from origin, resonance detached from gesture. The trio navigates a constantly shifting topology in which acoustic memory and electronic manipulation are indistinguishable.

Crucially, the album never abandons the physical urgency of three musicians reacting in real time. The additional timbral layers do not thicken the texture into opacity; rather, they introduce stark points and arrows of diffraction. Density opens into prismatic clarity. Lines splinter and regroup. What seems like a quartet or quintet collapses back into three bodies negotiating an expanded field.

Dispersion is not about addition but about distribution - of agency, of timbre, of temporal perspective. It is an album in which the trio setting becomes a site of multiplicity without surrendering its immediacy. A dissolution not only of the divide between present experience and memory, but between inside and outside, self and other.

Three musicians. Countless vectors. A music that fractures in order to cohere.

CREDITS:
Tom Schneider: piano & sampler
Tobi Fröhlich: double bass
Daniel Klein: drums & percussion

sample sources:
Victor Fox: tenor saxophone
Asger Nissen: alto saxophone
Volker Heuken: vibes
Daniel Klein: vibes

Recorded by Martin Dressler at Bauer Studios, Ludwigsburg.
Mixed & mastered by Martin Ruch.
Artwork by Viet Hoa Le.

“An irresistibly narcotic sonic palette… Low-lit sounds for blissed-out ravers.” FACT LA electronic artist Holodec debuts on Phantom Limb with hypnotic new album TRU FOLK, a subtle and environmentally sensitive documentation of everyday life for distant synthesis, interwoven field recordings, and urban haze. Described as “both a folk record and an audio document” by Holodec - aka West Coast producer Jieh - TRU FOLK draws from 15 years of field recordings that capture a range of environments from city life to the domestic everyday. These audio narratives form the foundation of the considerately textured representation of the same spaces that make up the record - full of earthen, grounding synthesis, semipresent melodies, and smogged-out tonal palettes. It occupies a zone somewhere between tangible and dreamlike, treating sound as evidence of living rather than an escape from it.

Faitiche welcomes a new artist: Christina Kubisch belongs to the first generation of sound artists. Her practice ranges from performances, concerts, to works with video and visual art, but she is best known for her sound installations and electro-acoustic compositions.

TUNING brings together three pieces by Christina Kubisch from different periods of her oeuvre. What they have in common is the way they transform sound phenomena originally considered “non-music” into compositions.

Jan Jelinek: Gaming in Silence (2024) is the most recent work on this compilation. It’s a collage of electromagnetic waves, voice, and abstract sound textures. How did this combination come about?

Christina Kubisch: Gaming was commissioned as a fixed-media composition for the Sound Dome at ZKM Karlsruhe. Since Resonances: The Electromagnetic Bodies Project (2005), I’ve been making recordings in the old and new server rooms at the ZKM and in their permanent collection of historical computer games. Computer games like Asteroids (Atari, 1979) and Poly-Play (VEB Polytechnik, 1986) have specially generated analogue electromagnetic waves that interest me in particular on account of their density, rhythms and textures. I originally studied painting and to me the work of composition often feels like painting an abstract picture. I alter my source material as little as possible, layering and overlapping until a distinctive sound space emerges. In recent pieces, I sometimes combine magnetic waves with field recordings or live instruments. In Gaming it’s my recording of a Chinese song about silence.

JJ: Two persons walking through a street in Madrid (2004) is a recording from your Electrical Walks series. Here we should give a brief explanation of one of your best known works: participants in an Electrical Walk move through public spaces wearing prepared headphones that allow them to receive electromagnetic waves from their surroundings – for example from security gates, ATMs or neon signs. They discover a situation that normally is inaudible to the human ear and they can actively shape it by choreographing their movements. I really admire this piece, not least because there’s no clear dividing line between participants and artist. What exactly do we hear in Two persons walking through a street in Madrid (2004)?

CK: With this early work, I wanted to understand what is heard by people participating in an Electrical Walk in the same place but moving in different ways. The Spanish composer Miguel Alvarez-Fernàndez and I set off from opposite ends of a major shopping street in Madrid, met briefly in the middle, and then continued to the end. We both recorded our walks and I then layered them over one another. You might call it a work of electromagnetic conceptualism.

JJ: Diapason (2009 version) is an installation that plays a composition based on sounds from fifteen tuning forks. This setting is audible in the recording: there’s no dramatic arc, no beginning or end – instead, it recalls a piece of aleatoric music focussing on the decay phase. How did you come to make this work and could you tell us something about your compositional method?

CK: Diapason is part of a series of three pieces that deal with “non-instruments” or instruments that no longer exist: electrical mine bells used to send signals to the workers underground; a historical glass harmonica originally used for medicinal purposes; and tuning forks that were used by doctors to test people’s hearing. All of these methods are no longer in use. The sound of the tuning forks, audible only if held close to the ear, was recorded at the electronic studio at Berlin’s Technical University in such a way that even their decay remained audible. The frequencies range between 64 and 2048 Hertz and they can be adjusted at micro-intervals using small movable weights. The sequence and the duration of the pauses are dictated by chance and were not defined in advance. The 2009 version was created for an installation in the historic Holy Cross Church (Korskirken) in Bergen. Visitors could enter and leave the space at any time, deciding for themselves where and for how long they wished to listen to the sounds played back over an array of small loudspeakers placed on the floor of the apse.

Credits:

Gaming in Silence: commission of the ZKM/Hertzlab, Karlsruhe 2023
elektronic sound processing: Tom Thiel
sound engineering and mixing: Eckehard Güther

Diapason: produced at Elektronisches Studio of TU Berlin
rearrangement: Eckehard Güther

Christina Kubisch, published by Edition Christina Kubisch / Random Musick Publishing

image front: Transitionen 2021 by C. Kubisch, sonagrams of electronic waves (courtesy: Galerie Mazzoli Berlin)
image back: Diapason Tuning Fork, property of Folkmar Hein, Photo: Archiv Christina Kubisch

design by Tim Tetzner
mastered by Giuseppe Ielasi
Thanks to Miguel Álvarez-Fernández, Folkmar Hein, Dominik Kautz and Mario Mazzoli

»Vents d’aether« is the first collaborative album by sound artist Jérôme Bouve and composer-performer Delphine Dora. The six pieces are based on live improvisations on organ and harmonium. They were recorded in different churches on the Cotentin peninsula in France’s Normandy region and later enriched with additional field recordings by SA~RA. This adds an extra layer to compositions which were created both in and out of the moment and which quite literally resonate with the histories of the instruments and the buildings that were so integral to their emergence. »Vents d’aether« is to be understood as a dialogue between sound and space that takes place across time and place.

Bouve carried the idea of working with the organs and harmoniums that can be found in the churches and chapels in the Val de Saire in the Northeast of Cotentin around with him for years. When he got to know Dora, he found the perfect musical partner with whom to finally make a record »about the wind, the wood, the stones of the Val de Saire.« In September 2024, the duo embarked on a short but fruitful journey during which they stopped by at several different churches. They recorded hours-long improvised sessions dedicated to »capturing the moment, letting space and time shape gestures and sound, seizing fleeting epiphanies in their greatest simplicity,« as Dora notes in the album’s linernotes.

She took the lead behind the instruments, however Bouve assisted her on drawbars for the last two pieces on »Vents d’aether,« thus adding an even more unusual touch to the recordings. They formed the basis for an album that Dora calls »the testimony of a sensory quest, a collection of memories suspended in time.« Indeed, starting with the epic 20-minute-long titular piece up until the ringing of church bells near the end of the closing piece »Montfarville V,« this overwhelming yet intimate record blurs the boundaries between different times and spaces altogether.