Buscar:andrea space forma

In spring 2025, Abul Mogard and Rafael Anton Irisarri created the source material for their second album, Where Light Pauses in the Silence of the Sun, during a three-day residency at Morphine Raum in Berlin. Functioning as both recording studio and performance venue, the space has no stage, with the audience gathered around the performers. Working within an open framework, the duo reshaped the music each evening while recording the performances live to multitrack. Rotary speakers, modular synthesizers and bowed guitar formed the core of their sonic language, captured through a 1970s mixing console and microphones placed around the room.

Back in Mogard’s studio in Rome, the material was further crafted as motifs were stretched, fragments isolated, and tempos dissolved. Irisarri recorded additional guitar textures and treatments in New York, while passages recorded by Martina Bertoni and Andrea Burelli in Berlin reinforced the harmonic centres and brought breath, refinement and a new sensibility to their compositions. The process continued as Mogard’s layering and subtraction reassembled everyone’s parts into the final arrangement.

The album opens with “In the Eastern Wild,” building from a sparse outline into a monumental formation of low-frequency weight, its internal motion shaped by the rotating Leslie speaker. “Over the Domes” widens into a broader acoustic field, where sustained modular tones meet waves of softly plucked guitar. The music then turns inward with “A Blue Descent,” centred on Bertoni’s cello, whose growling timbre introduces a melancholic depth.

At the album’s centre, “In a Quiet Radiance” unfolds around a slow guitar ostinato, its luminous stillness opening into a more expansive and reflective state. Across its ten-minute span, Burelli’s violin lines and Bertoni’s lower cello phrases gradually surface, weaving through the harmonic field. Mogard brings Burelli’s processed voice to the fore, its emotive, operatic presence becoming one of the record’s pivotal moments. “Of Blessed Ages” suspends the sonic flow, shifting between parallel major and minor chords as lingering, slowly decaying melodies shape the music’s internal drift. The closing “Among Shadows” settles into a darker resonance as layered textures recede.

Mogard and Irisarri’s shared language balances restraint and maximalism. UK magazine Crack describes the music as “a tidal wave held in suspension,” while Dutch newspaper de Volkskrant writes, “What a colossal sound, and how this music strikes at the emotions.” Reflecting on the residency sessions, Irisarri recalls: “At moments I genuinely couldn’t tell if a sound was coming from me or from Abul. It stopped feeling like two people making decisions and began to feel like we were inside a system moving on its own."

Marja de Sanctis’ cover artwork revisits the vessel sculpture from the duo’s first album, Impossibly Distant, Impossibly Close. There it appeared as raw, unfired clay. Here it has been fired in the kiln and finished with a glaze. Light gathers on its polished surface and spills into the surrounding space. As she explains, “I wanted to convey the idea of continuity within the duo, and the vessel became a kind of container for that idea. However, their music felt different this time, and with the collaboration of Martina and Andrea, I felt it should have a sleeker, softer, more glamorous look, very distant from the first raw appearance.” The transformation of the vessel from raw clay to fired form suggests a passage from immediacy toward permanence, mirroring the music’s gradual expansion.

In spring 2025, Abul Mogard and Rafael Anton Irisarri created the source material for their second album, Where Light Pauses in the Silence of the Sun, during a three-day residency at Morphine Raum in Berlin. Functioning as both recording studio and performance venue, the space has no stage, with the audience gathered around the performers. Working within an open framework, the duo reshaped the music each evening while recording the performances live to multitrack. Rotary speakers, modular synthesizers and bowed guitar formed the core of their sonic language, captured through a 1970s mixing console and microphones placed around the room.

Back in Mogard’s studio in Rome, the material was further crafted as motifs were stretched, fragments isolated, and tempos dissolved. Irisarri recorded additional guitar textures and treatments in New York, while passages recorded by Martina Bertoni and Andrea Burelli in Berlin reinforced the harmonic centres and brought breath, refinement and a new sensibility to their compositions. The process continued as Mogard’s layering and subtraction reassembled everyone’s parts into the final arrangement.

The album opens with “In the Eastern Wild,” building from a sparse outline into a monumental formation of low-frequency weight, its internal motion shaped by the rotating Leslie speaker. “Over the Domes” widens into a broader acoustic field, where sustained modular tones meet waves of softly plucked guitar. The music then turns inward with “A Blue Descent,” centred on Bertoni’s cello, whose growling timbre introduces a melancholic depth.

At the album’s centre, “In a Quiet Radiance” unfolds around a slow guitar ostinato, its luminous stillness opening into a more expansive and reflective state. Across its ten-minute span, Burelli’s violin lines and Bertoni’s lower cello phrases gradually surface, weaving through the harmonic field. Mogard brings Burelli’s processed voice to the fore, its emotive, operatic presence becoming one of the record’s pivotal moments. “Of Blessed Ages” suspends the sonic flow, shifting between parallel major and minor chords as lingering, slowly decaying melodies shape the music’s internal drift. The closing “Among Shadows” settles into a darker resonance as layered textures recede.

Mogard and Irisarri’s shared language balances restraint and maximalism. UK magazine Crack describes the music as “a tidal wave held in suspension,” while Dutch newspaper de Volkskrant writes, “What a colossal sound, and how this music strikes at the emotions.” Reflecting on the residency sessions, Irisarri recalls: “At moments I genuinely couldn’t tell if a sound was coming from me or from Abul. It stopped feeling like two people making decisions and began to feel like we were inside a system moving on its own."

Marja de Sanctis’ cover artwork revisits the vessel sculpture from the duo’s first album, Impossibly Distant, Impossibly Close. There it appeared as raw, unfired clay. Here it has been fired in the kiln and finished with a glaze. Light gathers on its polished surface and spills into the surrounding space. As she explains, “I wanted to convey the idea of continuity within the duo, and the vessel became a kind of container for that idea. However, their music felt different this time, and with the collaboration of Martina and Andrea, I felt it should have a sleeker, softer, more glamorous look, very distant from the first raw appearance.” The transformation of the vessel from raw clay to fired form suggests a passage from immediacy toward permanence, mirroring the music’s gradual expansion.

In spring 2025, Abul Mogard and Rafael Anton Irisarri created the source material for their second album, Where Light Pauses in the Silence of the Sun, during a three-day residency at Morphine Raum in Berlin. Functioning as both recording studio and performance venue, the space has no stage, with the audience gathered around the performers. Working within an open framework, the duo reshaped the music each evening while recording the performances live to multitrack. Rotary speakers, modular synthesizers and bowed guitar formed the core of their sonic language, captured through a 1970s mixing console and microphones placed around the room.

Back in Mogard’s studio in Rome, the material was further crafted as motifs were stretched, fragments isolated, and tempos dissolved. Irisarri recorded additional guitar textures and treatments in New York, while passages recorded by Martina Bertoni and Andrea Burelli in Berlin reinforced the harmonic centres and brought breath, refinement and a new sensibility to their compositions. The process continued as Mogard’s layering and subtraction reassembled everyone’s parts into the final arrangement.

The album opens with “In the Eastern Wild,” building from a sparse outline into a monumental formation of low-frequency weight, its internal motion shaped by the rotating Leslie speaker. “Over the Domes” widens into a broader acoustic field, where sustained modular tones meet waves of softly plucked guitar. The music then turns inward with “A Blue Descent,” centred on Bertoni’s cello, whose growling timbre introduces a melancholic depth.

At the album’s centre, “In a Quiet Radiance” unfolds around a slow guitar ostinato, its luminous stillness opening into a more expansive and reflective state. Across its ten-minute span, Burelli’s violin lines and Bertoni’s lower cello phrases gradually surface, weaving through the harmonic field. Mogard brings Burelli’s processed voice to the fore, its emotive, operatic presence becoming one of the record’s pivotal moments. “Of Blessed Ages” suspends the sonic flow, shifting between parallel major and minor chords as lingering, slowly decaying melodies shape the music’s internal drift. The closing “Among Shadows” settles into a darker resonance as layered textures recede.

Mogard and Irisarri’s shared language balances restraint and maximalism. UK magazine Crack describes the music as “a tidal wave held in suspension,” while Dutch newspaper de Volkskrant writes, “What a colossal sound, and how this music strikes at the emotions.” Reflecting on the residency sessions, Irisarri recalls: “At moments I genuinely couldn’t tell if a sound was coming from me or from Abul. It stopped feeling like two people making decisions and began to feel like we were inside a system moving on its own."

Marja de Sanctis’ cover artwork revisits the vessel sculpture from the duo’s first album, Impossibly Distant, Impossibly Close. There it appeared as raw, unfired clay. Here it has been fired in the kiln and finished with a glaze. Light gathers on its polished surface and spills into the surrounding space. As she explains, “I wanted to convey the idea of continuity within the duo, and the vessel became a kind of container for that idea. However, their music felt different this time, and with the collaboration of Martina and Andrea, I felt it should have a sleeker, softer, more glamorous look, very distant from the first raw appearance.” The transformation of the vessel from raw clay to fired form suggests a passage from immediacy toward permanence, mirroring the music’s gradual expansion.

The Acidboychair music project started in the early noughties as a commentary on what journalist Simon Reynolds would summarise a few years later as Retromania. Initially conceived by Thomas Baldischwyler and Andreas Diefenbach as a performative revival travesty with large-format drum computers and synthesizers reconstructed from cardboard, everything took a surprising turn when DJ Mooner (the man behind the now defunct Munich music label Erkrankung Durch Musique) took an interest in the adventurous audio material produced by Baldischwyler. In 2005, the LP 1987 (EDM1016), produced almost exclusively with long-forgotten software (SoundEdit 16, RB-338, etc.), was released on Mooner's label. As a result of the growing number of bookings, Baldischwyler had to think about improving the performability of his intentionally amateurish productions. Fortunately, the Ableton Live programme became a DAW with a MIDI sequencer and support for VST plug-ins as early as 2004 - and this made it easier for him to execute his intuitive, error-friendly version of acid house. This can be heard on the first two sample-heavy tracks on the A-side of Come Down Easy, which were recorded in 2005 and 2006 respectively at Acidboychair gigs at Hamburg's Golden Pudel Club and Munich's Registratur. The first two tracks on the B-side (produced sometime between 2006 and 2008) were actually supposed to be part of a solo release on the Acido label run by Dynamo Dreesen, but this never materialised. However, the final tracks and the 133.3 BPM lock grooves that follow are the title and central to this catalogue number TBG123: Through ethno-musicologist Arthur Boto Conley, who had already released a one-sided 12 on his label with material from one of Baldischwyler's audio installations, he met Florian Meyer (Don't DJ) and Marc Matter (Spoken Matter), who introduced him to their collaborative project Institut F?r Feinmotorik (IFFM). Baldischwyler's attempt to approach the sound aesthetics of IFFM led to the tape 60 Minutes Of Barely Modified Lock Grooves (TCCC06), recorded in Rome in 2018. A buyer of this tape introduced him to the Detroit collective Pure Rave, which he immediately contacted and introduced to the work of the IFFM. It was important for Baldischwyler to have an analogue update made and so both the Detroiters and IFFM, who now live in Berlin, were given 8 copies of EDM1016's backstock to remix the material in their own way. At their jam in Detroit, Pure Rave opted for the almost identical material that IFFM had also used for a live performance in the Hamburg project space Beek. The dominant jumps in both arrangements come from the track Eightyseven, produced in the early 2000s for the LP 1987, an awkward remix of the Spacemen 3 track Come Down Easy, which is also referred to in the liner notes on the inner sleeve of TBG123. The almost two-decade-old revival idea thus turns into false memory syndrome and runs into a - in keeping with our times - clean-cut (endless) groove. Kassem Mosse (The KM of MM/KM) on Come Down Easy after a first listening session: I think it all works very well as a mix, no matter where you start it carries you further forward back in the loop. if I understand the liner notes correctly, it's about the music's turn from tradition preservation (doing everything right) to ecstatic delusion (not doing everything right when intoxicated). Now that I'm reading again instead of listening, the titles give me a different understanding of the connections; how the skipping belongs together, which playtime is connected. Now I can name my favourites. Thank you for the journey!

After two years, Carl and Andreas present their second album, and once again, it opens up a wide associative space for us. What strikes us initially is the uncommon instrumentation: a church organ, harpsichord, glass tubes, and more. Like their first album (The Aporias of Futurism), it is mysterious and dark. But it also carries a strong touch of rebellion and adrenaline, sometimes quite pointedly. The pieces are now shorter and feature intricate yet irresistible rhythms. The impact is immediate, yet it maintains a sense of solemnity and ceremony. The Apollonian complexity of the rhythms and subtle melodic interweavings is transformed into a Dionysian, ecstatic, hypnotic, and at times tribal context. "Music for Unknown Rituals" oscillates between primitive instincts and avant-garde intrigues.

The process began in Döblitz, a small village on the Saale river in Germany, inside an old church that houses an organ built in 1886 by Johann Adolph Ibach. Carl and Andreas gained access and secluded themselves there for a few days, accompanied by the organ, an instrument made of glass tubes, and a set of modular synthesizers. After recording the basic tracks in Döblitz, the work continued in Munich and Berlin. Carl played electric guitars, harpsichord, bass, metallophone, xylophone, Indian harmonium, and various percussive instruments. Andreas added layers of electronic sounds, noises, and atmospheric drones. He also created percussive structures extracted and derived from recorded material of technical and industrial noises, which contrasted with the acoustic drums played by Carl. The antithetical approach continues with the dichotomous arrangement of the instruments, often panned hard left and right in the stereo field, creating an antiphonic communication. Some parts, especially the use of the electric guitar, evoke memories of the psychedelic sixties. However, this is anything but a nostalgic album—these musical references are merely remnants, set pieces, and fragments used from a contemporary, post-modern, post-youth-cultural, and post-romantic perspective.

Although Andreas and Carl continue on their chosen path of composing music with an almost literary narrative structure, this album is conceptually and formally completely different from their first effort. If “The Aporias of Futurism” was a revolutionary manifesto (in a pataphysical sense), "Music for Unknown Rituals" is more like the implementation in action; it is the practical application of the previous statement. To put it another way, if "The Aporias of Futurism” was the conceptual manifesto of a dark utopia of modernity, "Music for Unknown Rituals" is the staging of free will surrendering to the myths and catharsis of a Greek tragedy. And in response to this, the artwork features a leitmotif of histrionics with hands, the hands being the first and intuitive part of the body to express something: a ritual, a prayer, a defeat...

— Andreas Gerth is one half of Driftmachine, and Carl Osterhelt is part of F.S.K and collaborates with Hans-Joachim Irmler of Faust. Both became connected through their participation in the Tied & Tickled Trio.

On their third album, »Rideau«, Swedish trio Tape made their great leap forward. Released in 2005 on Häpna, following two albums of pastoral folk meets electronica, »Rideau« saw the trio of Andreas and Johan Berthling, and Tomas Hallonsten, working with an outside producer, Marcus Schmickler (best known for his post-rock outfit Pluramon). On »Rideau«, Tape’s music opened out considerably, embracing traditional minimalism, and luscious melodicism. Now, seventeen years later, »Rideau« has a new home with Morr Music, who are reissuing the album on vinyl, marking its first appearance on the format, including an extra track.

It’s only logical that »Rideau« should reappear via Morr Music. Like Tape themselves, Morr Music was a significant part of the worldwide gang busy reconciling electronica, pop, and acoustic, group- oriented sound across the 2000s, and »Rideau« sits neatly alongside other releases of similar heritage. And yet, »Rideau« feels contemporary, suggesting the creative discoveries made by the trio have ongoing resonance; their elliptical poetry echoes through recent music from the likes of Tara Clerkin Trio, and Tape’s sometime collaborators, Tenniscoats.

Asked about the album, Johan Berthling recalls, “»Rideau« was a special album for us to make”. While they had previously recorded their albums in rural Sweden, for »Rideau«, the trio decamped to Schmickler’s Piethopraxis Studio in Cologne. The creative space that Schmickler carved out for the group allowed them to explore this new material to its fullest. For his part, Schmickler found himself drawn to Tape’s music –“Their focus was a combination of seemingly timeless folk influences with noisy electronics and field recordings,” he explains. You can hear Schmickler’s influence at an almost molecular level – Tape had never sounded quite so graceful and assured with their compositions. “Marcus really shaped the music, working architecturally to build the form of the pieces,” Berthling recalls.

»Rideau« represents a collective exhalation for Tape, with the trio exploring more involved, longer pieces, which situates them in yet broader musical contexts. There are clear connections with the history of minimalism, for example, via the repeating organ phrase of »Sunrefrain«, and the insistent piano arpeggio of »A Spire«, which builds into a Reich-ian dream song, with sensuous electronics and glinting vibraphone dappling abstract shapes across the song’s stretched canvas.

Reflecting on Tape’s essence, Schmickler isolates their “uncompromised ethos, caring about small details.” This echoes most radically through the twilight environment of »Long Lost Engine«, which sets the listener adrift on impossibly radiant drones, while a gentle, almost Feldman-esque melody plays out over the song’s surface. It’s followed by the reissue’s extra track, Japanese electronica quartet Minamo’s remix of »Roulette«, a connection that would lead to a Minamo/Tape collaborative album, »Birds Of A Feather« (2007).

For now, though, here is the gorgeous, penumbral abstraction of »Rideau«, an album of whispers and clues, quiet moments and grand gestures, reintroduced to a welcoming world.

The artistic oeuvre of Berlin-based Sonja Deffner is as extensive and diverse as its contexts are high-profile: If the classically trained musician could in recent years be heard as a member of the groups Jason & Theodor, Die Heiterkeit, Globus and PTTRNS, as part of Christiane Rösinger's touring band, or as a recording musician on Andreas Spechtl's (Ja, Panik) albums, she has at the same time produced an acclaimed graphic work, video works and made her theater debut. Under the name Kalme, Deffner now presents her solo debut »Neue Sprache«, which feels like a culmination: Deffner doesn't need much space to present an artistic position of spectacular incisiveness and maturity.

The formal language of Kalme's debut evolves with reference to experimental pop and R&B, but equally informed by ambient electronics or dub techno. Analog and digital sound synthesis meet Deffner's characteristic use of field recordings, acoustic instrumentation (clarinet, percussion) meets musical post-production, sampling meets expressive synthesizer playing. At the center of the album, however, are Deffner's remarkable lyrics, written in German for the first time. Deffner creates a language of stark, emotional poignancy that is as conspiratorial as it is precise. The themes of the tracks develop between the poles of movement and stagnation, understood as motifs of biographical as well as musical ways of being or relating. In this forcefield, personal and political considerations coincide again and again, for example when Deffner reflects on her experiences with the social conditioning of femininity and motherhood.

The album title »Neue Sprache« (»New Language«), then, describes a search for forms of articulation of solidarization: language as a tool of a new relationship to the world that allows testimony to individual experience without reproducing categories of repression. In this way, Kalme's debut simultaneously achieves a radical intimacy, just as, on the other hand, the confrontation of language and sound repeatedly opens up fissures that deny any semblance of comfort. »Neue Sprache« does not stop at this modernist gesture, however, but unquestionably takes a stand. That's what Kalme's »Neue Sprache« ultimately is: the taking of a position. A statement.