SILVER CURRENT RECORDS News

They Came Like Swallows is the first album-length collaboration between Thurston Moore and Kramer (now officially Bonner Kramer), two giants of alternative/ experimental music. The accomplishments and influence of these two artists in the world of independent music cannot be overstated and the result of their artistic union is a startlingly cohesive statement that burns through landscapes of primitive outsider rock, avant-garde composition, progressive ambient and further locales boldly and beautifully unnamable. “Kramer and I reconnected in Miami, Florida, a few years back, many many years after each of us had departed NYC on separate life adventures. It was only a matter of time before Kramer and I started making plans to record together and with his irrepressible due diligence he quickly set up a mobile recording contraption in the pad I was decamped in, the Florida sunshine flowing through the palm leaves, lithe lizards skittering across the windowsills, and we just went for it.

Kramer had the idea to cover a Joy Division tune, a left turn from the improvisations we had been tracking, though wholly in keeping with both our sensibilities of light and dark unifying in transcendent songwriting, both of us devotees of 'the song' as well as 'the freedom.’ What transpired is They Came Like Swallows, a session we immediately felt should exist as a prayer to the war-torn souls of the families of Palestine continually decimated by the brutality of genocide. We agreed beyond words to offer our music as a sonic activism and as a beneficent energy. This album is our duo exchange for human dignity, it is our soul music for any semblance of a peaceful planet.” ~ Thurston Moore “For the first time in our nearly 45 years of friendship, we had identical time windows open to make a record together,” recounts Kramer. After all this time not a moment is wasted as the duo immediately taps into the heightened core of improvisational tension across these seven offerings. Volcanic opener “Urn Burial” notches a similar historic union (John Cale and Terry Riley) to meet the circumstances of the moment, with swirling mists of organ and pounding toms over guitar that thickens the atmosphere with jagged, grimy dissonance.

Solemn strings open the second track, “The Redness In The West,” with Kramer’s cello and viola in dueling bow beneath the high tension drive and sustain of Thurston’s electric guitar, tapping out a Morse code of tension that mounts endlessly into a fog of inevitable war by the end. Moore and Kramer’s sense of experimentalism is in free and full grandeur throughout They Came Like Swallows, though the duo keep a strong and constant sideways eye on melody, composition and architecture, to the ends that any strict lines between song and improvisation are blurred beyond qualification.

As if to punctuate this point, Swallows closes with a nightwork cover of Joy Division’s “Insight,” a doleful coda that breathes out with a solemn inner grace under Thurston’s instantly stylistically recognizable guitar melodies as they weave into he and Kramer’s unison voices. As the lone vocal piece and only traditional ‘song’ form on the album, “Insight” is unique to this set and as a closing statement draws connective lines back to the kind of dynamic, electrified melodicism that wove deep, melancholy patterns into the untamed fire of Sonic Youth’s Sister and Daydream Nation. In the album’s final moments, the two voices repeat the lyric “I’m not afraid anymore” as mantra, underscoring the heavy, unsettled themes and methods that preceded it. Kramer describes the creative process of They Came Like Swallows: “I had composed and recorded a few pieces at my home studio over the course of a couple weeks. Thurston was spending the winter in South Florida, so I flew down and spent a few days recording his guitar parts in his home there. Watching him spontaneously compose his parts was pretty astonishing, to say the least. Once we'd finished working on those pieces, we began improvising and following wherever the music pointed us, and another few pieces were born. We got straight to it, without anything driving us other than the joy of finally working together.

My personal goal was to remain present and catch as many surprises as I could from Thurston's guitar work, and there were plenty during those few days. We had a fucking blast.” Thurston’s contributions here will be readily familiar to any acolytes of his other works, the through-line between his inspired playing, cradled in Kramer’s meticulous, solid arrangements. “If I had to make this record again, I'd do it all exactly the same way,” Kramer says. “It’s like jazz, you don't think about it. You just do it. It was miraculous, and you don't fuck with a miracle.”

They Came Like Swallows is the first album-length collaboration between Thurston Moore and Kramer (now officially Bonner Kramer), two giants of alternative/ experimental music. The accomplishments and influence of these two artists in the world of independent music cannot be overstated and the result of their artistic union is a startlingly cohesive statement that burns through landscapes of primitive outsider rock, avant-garde composition, progressive ambient and further locales boldly and beautifully unnamable. “Kramer and I reconnected in Miami, Florida, a few years back, many many years after each of us had departed NYC on separate life adventures. It was only a matter of time before Kramer and I started making plans to record together and with his irrepressible due diligence he quickly set up a mobile recording contraption in the pad I was decamped in, the Florida sunshine flowing through the palm leaves, lithe lizards skittering across the windowsills, and we just went for it.

Kramer had the idea to cover a Joy Division tune, a left turn from the improvisations we had been tracking, though wholly in keeping with both our sensibilities of light and dark unifying in transcendent songwriting, both of us devotees of 'the song' as well as 'the freedom.’ What transpired is They Came Like Swallows, a session we immediately felt should exist as a prayer to the war-torn souls of the families of Palestine continually decimated by the brutality of genocide. We agreed beyond words to offer our music as a sonic activism and as a beneficent energy. This album is our duo exchange for human dignity, it is our soul music for any semblance of a peaceful planet.” ~ Thurston Moore “For the first time in our nearly 45 years of friendship, we had identical time windows open to make a record together,” recounts Kramer. After all this time not a moment is wasted as the duo immediately taps into the heightened core of improvisational tension across these seven offerings. Volcanic opener “Urn Burial” notches a similar historic union (John Cale and Terry Riley) to meet the circumstances of the moment, with swirling mists of organ and pounding toms over guitar that thickens the atmosphere with jagged, grimy dissonance.

Solemn strings open the second track, “The Redness In The West,” with Kramer’s cello and viola in dueling bow beneath the high tension drive and sustain of Thurston’s electric guitar, tapping out a Morse code of tension that mounts endlessly into a fog of inevitable war by the end. Moore and Kramer’s sense of experimentalism is in free and full grandeur throughout They Came Like Swallows, though the duo keep a strong and constant sideways eye on melody, composition and architecture, to the ends that any strict lines between song and improvisation are blurred beyond qualification.

As if to punctuate this point, Swallows closes with a nightwork cover of Joy Division’s “Insight,” a doleful coda that breathes out with a solemn inner grace under Thurston’s instantly stylistically recognizable guitar melodies as they weave into he and Kramer’s unison voices. As the lone vocal piece and only traditional ‘song’ form on the album, “Insight” is unique to this set and as a closing statement draws connective lines back to the kind of dynamic, electrified melodicism that wove deep, melancholy patterns into the untamed fire of Sonic Youth’s Sister and Daydream Nation. In the album’s final moments, the two voices repeat the lyric “I’m not afraid anymore” as mantra, underscoring the heavy, unsettled themes and methods that preceded it. Kramer describes the creative process of They Came Like Swallows: “I had composed and recorded a few pieces at my home studio over the course of a couple weeks. Thurston was spending the winter in South Florida, so I flew down and spent a few days recording his guitar parts in his home there. Watching him spontaneously compose his parts was pretty astonishing, to say the least. Once we'd finished working on those pieces, we began improvising and following wherever the music pointed us, and another few pieces were born. We got straight to it, without anything driving us other than the joy of finally working together.

My personal goal was to remain present and catch as many surprises as I could from Thurston's guitar work, and there were plenty during those few days. We had a fucking blast.” Thurston’s contributions here will be readily familiar to any acolytes of his other works, the through-line between his inspired playing, cradled in Kramer’s meticulous, solid arrangements. “If I had to make this record again, I'd do it all exactly the same way,” Kramer says. “It’s like jazz, you don't think about it. You just do it. It was miraculous, and you don't fuck with a miracle.”

After a storied first year as a band releasing and touring behind their critically acclaimed debut album Today, Galaxie 500 closed out 1988 with a quintessential performance at New York City’s famed CBGB with every bit of their signature intimacy and autumnal bombast on display. The unusual bill which also included Sonic Youth, B.A.L.L. and Unsane was a benefit show for the zine shop See Hear.

Captured here in a raw but inspired board mix by Kramer and restored and mastered from the analog source by Alan Douches at West West Side Music, CBGB 12.13.88 is a live snapshot of a Galaxie fully formed, punctuating the end of their first chapter while poised to step into their next with On Fire the following year.

After a storied first year as a band releasing and touring behind their critically acclaimed debut album Today, Galaxie 500 closed out 1988 with a quintessential performance at New York City’s famed CBGB with every bit of their signature intimacy and autumnal bombast on display. The unusual bill which also included Sonic Youth, B.A.L.L. and Unsane was a benefit show for the zine shop See Hear.

Captured here in a raw but inspired board mix by Kramer and restored and mastered from the analog source by Alan Douches at West West Side Music, CBGB 12.13.88 is a live snapshot of a Galaxie fully formed, punctuating the end of their first chapter while poised to step into their next with On Fire the following year.

**Black vinyl. Gold foil-printed gatefold jacket** With its ethereal, buzzing acoustic riffs, helix of resonant drones and vocal delivery that often sounds like an ancient form of prayer, Julie Beth Napolin’s Only The Void Stands Between Us sure-footedly takes its place in the post-’70s experimental folk lineage. “This is cosmic folk of the highest caliber. Julie’s vocal melodies grow in your mind like they were planted on the shortest day of the year. An absolute treat for all of us temporal adventurers.” – Ben Chasny (Six Organs Of Admittance)

Howlin Rain’s grand 3xLP archival statement and untold story, written over nearly two decades in invisible ink between the lines. Features never before heard songs from The Russian Wilds, The Dharma Wheel, The Alligator Bride, Mansion Songs, Live Rain and the lost Ethan Miller Band sessions. With a broad cast of musical characters including Rick Rubin (Producer/American Records), Luther Dickinson (North Mississippi Allstars), Scarlet Rivera (Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue), Joel Robinow (Once and Future Band), Isaiah Mitchell (Earthless/ The Black Crowes) and many more. Includes songs by The Rolling Stones, Grateful Dead, Leon Russell and Neil Merryweather. “I wanted to compile the record so it would have impact like our grandest, wildest, most unabashed studio album. I left out home demos, and songs from quiet corners, sketches, etc, in favor of fully formed, fully finished, studio level tracks from front to back. Lost at Sea is intended to be something that you can pour yourself into and get swept away in.” — Ethan Miller (Founder, bandleader)

A limited edition, full-length split album celebrating a 2024 co-tour of Japan by underground cracked-psych purveyors Fuckwolf from San Francisco and legendary prog-benders Green Milk From The Planet Orange from Tokyo. Green Milk stretch a live performance of one of their extended signature jaw-droppers “Concrete City Breakdown” relentlessly across an entire side of LET’S SPLIT (裂けても) while Fuckwolf delve into a 6-part abstract song cycle, ranging from stoned incense burners to blown out fuzz rippers, echoes of Faust Tapes, Les Rallizes and 70’s mid-west outsider proto-punk abound. Green Milk From The Planet Orange formed in Tokyo in 2001 and continue to tour, record and perform some of neo-psychedelia’s most ambitious and masterfully performed rock music. Fuckwolf formed in San Francisco in 2002 and most recently released the criticallylauded underground scuzzy art-rock gem of 2022 ‘Goodbye, Asshole’ on Silver Current Records. LET’S SPLIT (裂けても) releases March 22nd on limited edition vinyl and digital from Silver Current Records. Catch Fuckwolf and Green Milk From The Planet Orange on tour together in Japan in late March and April 2024, including a Tokyo release party.

A limited edition, full-length split album celebrating a 2024 co-tour of Japan by underground cracked-psych purveyors Fuckwolf from San Francisco and legendary prog-benders Green Milk From The Planet Orange from Tokyo. Green Milk stretch a live performance of one of their extended signature jaw-droppers “Concrete City Breakdown” relentlessly across an entire side of LET’S SPLIT (裂けても) while Fuckwolf delve into a 6-part abstract song cycle, ranging from stoned incense burners to blown out fuzz rippers, echoes of Faust Tapes, Les Rallizes and 70’s mid-west outsider proto-punk abound. Green Milk From The Planet Orange formed in Tokyo in 2001 and continue to tour, record and perform some of neo-psychedelia’s most ambitious and masterfully performed rock music. Fuckwolf formed in San Francisco in 2002 and most recently released the criticallylauded underground scuzzy art-rock gem of 2022 ‘Goodbye, Asshole’ on Silver Current Records. LET’S SPLIT (裂けても) releases March 22nd on limited edition vinyl and digital from Silver Current Records. Catch Fuckwolf and Green Milk From The Planet Orange on tour together in Japan in late March and April 2024, including a Tokyo release party.

The final U.S. show, a triumphant and blistering bookend to the storied career of one of the most influential bands in rock music, featuring a unique and expansive eighty-five minute set list that spans Sonic Youth’s nearly three decade catalog. Mixed from multitrack by longtime live engineer Aaron Mullan and mastered and cut by Carl Saff. On August 12, 2011 Sonic Youth played their final US show on an outdoor stage overlooking the East River at the Williamsburg Waterfront in Brooklyn. Fitting that their storied career would bookend with a panoramic view of New York City where it all began 30 years before, having left in their wake one of one of the most powerfully influential careers in rock music. Following incredible sets from Kurt Vile and Wild Flag, the band took the stage. As the sun went down over the city, Sonic Youth ripped through a 17 song set that spanned from deep cuts off their first studio album and highlighting many other albums all the way through to their last, like a band with everything to prove. Or as Brooklyn Vegan’s Andrew Sacher said at the time: “While most bands who are thirty years into their career are either fading away or living off of the nostalgia of their older material, Sonic Youth continue to sound and perform as fresh as ever.” Steve Shelley explains the uniquely career spanning set list of Live in Brooklyn 2011 and how it came to be, as well as the importance of outdoor NYC summer shows in Sonic Youth’s legacy: “This show was a culmination of a run of really special outdoor summertime shows in New York City for us, starting in ’92 with Summerstage in Central Park when we played with Sun Ra. For the Williamsburg Waterfront show I wrote out the set list to present to the band and it was a lot of material we hadn’t played in a while, a lot of deep cuts, so I wasn’t sure if everybody would feel like doing it. After worrying about which songs the band might say yes or no to, I threw those concerns out the window and I just made a list of songs that I thought would be a great set. We practiced the week of the show at our space in Hoboken and put the set together. First we’d try and make sure we had a guitar in the song’s tuning, then we’d try to remember the arrangement and try and put it together, sometimes re-learning bar by bar. In the end I think the whole song list made it through. Even as early as ’86 and ’87 we stopped playing ‘Death Valley 69’ and ‘Brave Men Run’ with any regularity. We’d just get excited about new material coming into the set and songs would get ‘retired’ and wouldn’t get played again for years. So on this particular night in Brooklyn a lot of those retired songs and deep cuts got dusted off and played for this show. It turned out to be a pretty special event with a really special song list.” The band would go on to fulfill a contracted festival run in South America a few months later but, by then, the group’s center was severed beyond repair and the festival appearances didn’t hold the same kind of weight. “The stage was facing the East River from the Williamsburg, Brooklyn waterfront, and I recall the sun going down in the west during our set. It was a pretty magical, if kinda weird day. Fitting, somehow, that our ‘last show’ should be in New York City, our home and where it all began…” Lee Ranaldo The Williamsburg Waterfront show would fondly become referred to as ‘The Last Show’ by fans and band alike, equally for its triumphant high energy performance, its unique and expansive set list and locale. Newly remixed and remastered, Live in Brooklyn 2011 is presented for the first time on 2xLP, 2Xcd, August 18, 2023.

**WAREHOUSE FIND ORANGE/RED TRANSPARENT VINYL ** The Oh Sees at the peak of their prog obsession, super jammed out and totally dominating. The Chapel SF 10.2.19 is a 53 minute, beautifully recorded, hi-fidelity live explosion of orc puke and kraut-gone-punk rock dominance by one of the rippingest bands of the 21st century. 2 x LP set on limited edition transparent blue and bone colored vinyl with side D etching and faithfully (re)created TMOQ-style bootleg album art.

*BLACK VINYL* Eight years in the making, Santa Cruz, California’s reclusive sons of tectonic riffage Mammatus return with Expanding Majesty, a sixty-nine minute magnum opus of kaleidoscopic guitars, soaring analog synths, wall-ofamps fuzz bass and one hundred feet drums. Four sidelong pieces unfold across a double album in unstoppable riffs that span the meditative and joyful un-earthed flight of ’70s kosmische godfathers like Popol Vuh and Tangerine Dream to the kinds of sub-surface thunder pioneered by Melvins and Sleep.

Goodbye, Asshole is the first studio album by San Francisco scuzz-wave merchants Fuckwolf—its a rat’s nest of deep grooves, lost ’70s rock riff intentions and art punk damage. These conundrums of time inform Goodbye, Asshole, but they are hardly romanticized in its music. The band, Eric Park (bass, vocals), Simon Phillips (drums) and Tomo Yasuda (guitar) sound blazing and scuzzy, a tight low-fi energy blasted onto tape at renowned Bay Area indie studios summarizing the last twenty years of San Francisco’s wild artistic soul – one that is now hard to find much evidence of in the city itself, but impossible to miss in the band’s sound. Fans of OSEES, Pink Fairies, late ’70s NYC, Emotional Rescue-era Stones, trashy post-punk dub and solvent-huffing rejoice!

Over nearly 20 years, Howlin Rain may have become the quintessential independent American rock ’n roll band: a steam-spitting Hydra of cranked guitars, kicking asphalt dust through a kaleidoscoping travelogue of desert motels and dives, volleying forth transmissions of sci-fi poetry from the blacktop veins of this cracked and aching country.

Now, in America 2021, capping these strangest and sorest of times, the band returns with The Dharma Wheel, a six-track, 52-minute dive into a joyous fantasy realm of exaggerated present.

“I wanted The Dharma Wheel to be a portal from our everyday world, the one from which you stand on hard ground and hold the album in your hands and peer into the artwork, and into another universe,” says songwriter, guitarist and vocalist, Ethan Miller. “You enter into that universe with your eyes and ears and mind and take a ride through free-form meditation on these ideas — from big, fundamental concepts about our existence right down to the grease that rolls down the arm of a pulp novel killer as he eats a gas station hot dog in an old Dodge in an alleyway.”

Lyrically, Miller has completed his evolution into a mushroom-plucking Whitman of the West, singing outlandish tales in a topographic blend of Humbead’s Revised Map of the World and an inverted U.S. where downtrodden bodhisattvas roam the back streets and moonless country roads.

“Down in Florida swamps, run by nature’s law, standing in the water, Eden gone. Two men loading rifles, beasts making time, they shot a boy from an orange tree and watched the colored birds take flight, watch the colors as they soar and dive.” — ‘Under the Wheels.’

The band, Jeff McElroy (bass, backing vocals), Justin Smith (drums/percussion, backing vocals) and Dan Cervantes (guitar, backing vocals), again sounds hardwired into Miller’s vision, building tracks that swagger and sway in response to his verse. Lending a hand this time around is the legendary Scarlet Rivera (Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue) on violin, and the endlessly inventive Adam MacDougall (Chris Robinson Brotherhood, Circles Around the Sun) on keys.

Songs were shaped via the blast furnace of endless gigs, then recorded often mere hours after the band slipped the stage.

“The captured sonic fact about this record is that it’s the sound of a band that rehearsed this material a lot and put a ton of work into its construction and was on the road a lot and recorded on days off in the tour schedule,” Miller says. “In some cases we were on stage on Saturday night playing these songs at quarter-to-2 in the morning and by Noon the next day we were sipping coffee in the studio playing them for the machine.”

Rivera’s violin is the first sound heard as the album dawns on the instrumental “Prelude.” Soon, the band joins, twirling the theme into a psychedelicized awakening. “Don’t Let the Tears” brings the boogie, with MacDougall’s madcap synth work and wah-wah guitars showering 70’s glitter upon a parquet dance floor of the mind. “Under the Wheels” and “Rotoscope” center the album with taut, compositional epics populated by murdering drifters and fuzz pedal explosions. The blue hour comedown of “Annabelle” meditates upon the weariness of lost love, with Rivera again amping the heartache via her violin strings.

“In the evening the trains go by, and shake the dust from dirty walls, sometimes I feel like a spider in an old mason jar, who threatens only convex light from down the hall. I’ve been lost to the world since the photos of the black hole, landed on my desktop screaming, perhaps the all and nothing all-in-one is just too much to take, for particles and matter that never found their way.” — ‘Annabelle’

The record closes with the 16-minute title track, a multi-movement suite which cycles from Crazy Horse-meets-Traffic jams through colossal, mass-moving funk stomp, eventually cresting and washing into a sing-along gospel lament.

The Dharma Wheel is an album of great depth, and one steeped in good vibes: a rich, glistening world of the ultra-vivid. As illustrated in Arik Roper’s cover art, the grand dharmachakra has been set in motion, churning off the California coast.

“We were trying to build a world big enough that the imagination won’t go soft on you after just a few listens and where our love for this music, and music in general — along with a good dose of audacity — create a magic carpet ride through the world of The Dharma Wheel,” Miller continues. “In pursuing that I think we also managed to make a record that has a lot of joy in it: the joy of playing music, the joy of experiencing music, the joy of storytelling and poetry, the kind of singular joy and extended ecstatic moment that only a real ‘band’ can express in just that way.”

And it’s this joy, this exuberance and dedication to the lines of cosmic expression — all centered in the exalted art of the everyday — that constructs the heart of the record. At its core, The Dharma Wheel is the triumph of a working band, a transmission from a never-paused before arriving for our strange, bruised, spectacular now.”

Over nearly 20 years, Howlin Rain may have become the quintessential independent American rock ’n roll band: a steam-spitting Hydra of cranked guitars, kicking asphalt dust through a kaleidoscoping travelogue of desert motels and dives, volleying forth transmissions of sci-fi poetry from the blacktop veins of this cracked and aching country.

Now, in America 2021, capping these strangest and sorest of times, the band returns with The Dharma Wheel, a six-track, 52-minute dive into a joyous fantasy realm of exaggerated present.

“I wanted The Dharma Wheel to be a portal from our everyday world, the one from which you stand on hard ground and hold the album in your hands and peer into the artwork, and into another universe,” says songwriter, guitarist and vocalist, Ethan Miller. “You enter into that universe with your eyes and ears and mind and take a ride through free-form meditation on these ideas — from big, fundamental concepts about our existence right down to the grease that rolls down the arm of a pulp novel killer as he eats a gas station hot dog in an old Dodge in an alleyway.”

Lyrically, Miller has completed his evolution into a mushroom-plucking Whitman of the West, singing outlandish tales in a topographic blend of Humbead’s Revised Map of the World and an inverted U.S. where downtrodden bodhisattvas roam the back streets and moonless country roads.

“Down in Florida swamps, run by nature’s law, standing in the water, Eden gone. Two men loading rifles, beasts making time, they shot a boy from an orange tree and watched the colored birds take flight, watch the colors as they soar and dive.” — ‘Under the Wheels.’

The band, Jeff McElroy (bass, backing vocals), Justin Smith (drums/percussion, backing vocals) and Dan Cervantes (guitar, backing vocals), again sounds hardwired into Miller’s vision, building tracks that swagger and sway in response to his verse. Lending a hand this time around is the legendary Scarlet Rivera (Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue) on violin, and the endlessly inventive Adam MacDougall (Chris Robinson Brotherhood, Circles Around the Sun) on keys.

Songs were shaped via the blast furnace of endless gigs, then recorded often mere hours after the band slipped the stage.

“The captured sonic fact about this record is that it’s the sound of a band that rehearsed this material a lot and put a ton of work into its construction and was on the road a lot and recorded on days off in the tour schedule,” Miller says. “In some cases we were on stage on Saturday night playing these songs at quarter-to-2 in the morning and by Noon the next day we were sipping coffee in the studio playing them for the machine.”

Rivera’s violin is the first sound heard as the album dawns on the instrumental “Prelude.” Soon, the band joins, twirling the theme into a psychedelicized awakening. “Don’t Let the Tears” brings the boogie, with MacDougall’s madcap synth work and wah-wah guitars showering 70’s glitter upon a parquet dance floor of the mind. “Under the Wheels” and “Rotoscope” center the album with taut, compositional epics populated by murdering drifters and fuzz pedal explosions. The blue hour comedown of “Annabelle” meditates upon the weariness of lost love, with Rivera again amping the heartache via her violin strings.

“In the evening the trains go by, and shake the dust from dirty walls, sometimes I feel like a spider in an old mason jar, who threatens only convex light from down the hall. I’ve been lost to the world since the photos of the black hole, landed on my desktop screaming, perhaps the all and nothing all-in-one is just too much to take, for particles and matter that never found their way.” — ‘Annabelle’

The record closes with the 16-minute title track, a multi-movement suite which cycles from Crazy Horse-meets-Traffic jams through colossal, mass-moving funk stomp, eventually cresting and washing into a sing-along gospel lament.

The Dharma Wheel is an album of great depth, and one steeped in good vibes: a rich, glistening world of the ultra-vivid. As illustrated in Arik Roper’s cover art, the grand dharmachakra has been set in motion, churning off the California coast.

“We were trying to build a world big enough that the imagination won’t go soft on you after just a few listens and where our love for this music, and music in general — along with a good dose of audacity — create a magic carpet ride through the world of The Dharma Wheel,” Miller continues. “In pursuing that I think we also managed to make a record that has a lot of joy in it: the joy of playing music, the joy of experiencing music, the joy of storytelling and poetry, the kind of singular joy and extended ecstatic moment that only a real ‘band’ can express in just that way.”

And it’s this joy, this exuberance and dedication to the lines of cosmic expression — all centered in the exalted art of the everyday — that constructs the heart of the record. At its core, The Dharma Wheel is the triumph of a working band, a transmission from a never-paused before arriving for our strange, bruised, spectacular now.”

It’s not easy to summarize any band whose career has stretched over two decades. In the case of Growing, though, it’s all in the name: since 2001, the core duo of Kevin Doria and Joe DeNardo have been making vibrating, explorative experimental music that is in a forever state of evolution. In that time, they have amassed a hard-to-define and influential body of work, and Diptych sees the band operating at the height of their “big amp ambient” powers.

Diptych is a masterclass in slowly undulating ambient drift, and quite possibly the definitive headphone album of the year. Guitars that sound like organs pointed at the heavens are cut with subtly damaged electronic moves, the end result being a record that is at once ecstatic, transportive and gritty.

Ambient and new age music have become part of the larger indie vocabulary. Things were different over twenty years ago in the Olympia, Washington punk community where Doria and DeNardo got their start. Both veterans of aggressive music by the time the band began, Growing emerged like a rainbow at the other end of the heavy music tunnel: loud as ever, but with a sonic and aesthetic position that ran counter to punk rock norms.

Created over the past year and a half, Diptych extrapolates on Growing’s formative drone-based work, showing a unit in full control of a language that they have built and reconfigured over time. The music here continues to be an intuitive outgrowth of a friendship that started in late-90s Olympia and still bears fruit today—even as each member lives in a different city.