Buscar:birds

Daneshevskaya (Dawn-eh-shev-sky-uh), the project of New York's Anna Beckerman, writes songs steeped in the folklore of her own personal history. Her artist (and real middle) name comes from her Russian-Jewish great-grandmother, a person whose presence she has always felt although their paths never crossed in real life. Beckerman grew up in a musical family; her father is a music professor, her mother studied opera and her own songs often feel spiritual, less so by any religious connotation and more as a hymn-like, archival record of Beckerman's own past, present and future. Her first release on Winspear, Long is the Tunnel, contemplates how the people you meet impact the pathway you travel. Through songs like the poignant "Somewhere in the Middle," the lilting "Challenger Deep" and the surreal "Big Bird," the EP paints a distinctive collage between traditional songwriting and modern turns of phrase that remain spellbound in the unadulterated luster of self discovery. The seven songs read as both patchwork memories/diary entries and elegies to those in her life. Co-produced by Ruben Radlauer and Hayden Ticehurst of Model/Actriz and Artur Szerejko, the final versions of these initial demos also saw contributions from Lewis Evans of Black Country, New Road (saxophone), Maddy Leshner (keys) and Finnegan Shanahan (violin), adding to the gleaming instrumentation that makes each song sound like a world within itself. Long is the Tunnel is filled with hyperreal imagery that denotes a form of escapism: two of the songs reference birds, which Beckerman describes as about being transfixed by something you can't take your eyes o‑ while also being able to leave at will. Long is the Tunnel prolongs this feeling of being completely immersed: by desire, emotion, and fantasy, though the somber melancholy of her love songs are often more manifestations to her internal self than anyone else.

Daneshevskaya (Dawn-eh-shev-sky-uh), the project of New York's Anna Beckerman, writes songs steeped in the folklore of her own personal history. Her artist (and real middle) name comes from her Russian-Jewish great-grandmother, a person whose presence she has always felt although their paths never crossed in real life. Beckerman grew up in a musical family; her father is a music professor, her mother studied opera and her own songs often feel spiritual, less so by any religious connotation and more as a hymn-like, archival record of Beckerman's own past, present and future. Her first release on Winspear, Long is the Tunnel, contemplates how the people you meet impact the pathway you travel. Through songs like the poignant "Somewhere in the Middle," the lilting "Challenger Deep" and the surreal "Big Bird," the EP paints a distinctive collage between traditional songwriting and modern turns of phrase that remain spellbound in the unadulterated luster of self discovery. The seven songs read as both patchwork memories/diary entries and elegies to those in her life. Co-produced by Ruben Radlauer and Hayden Ticehurst of Model/Actriz and Artur Szerejko, the final versions of these initial demos also saw contributions from Lewis Evans of Black Country, New Road (saxophone), Maddy Leshner (keys) and Finnegan Shanahan (violin), adding to the gleaming instrumentation that makes each song sound like a world within itself. Long is the Tunnel is filled with hyperreal imagery that denotes a form of escapism: two of the songs reference birds, which Beckerman describes as about being transfixed by something you can't take your eyes o‑ while also being able to leave at will. Long is the Tunnel prolongs this feeling of being completely immersed: by desire, emotion, and fantasy, though the somber melancholy of her love songs are often more manifestations to her internal self than anyone else.

Yearly compilation album RADAR by KEROXEN returns with its fourth volume in the ongoing series of themed based albums showcasing the talents and misfortunes of carefully selected musical projects based or connected with the Canary Islands.

With its first volume released in 2020 aiming to promote and divulge adventurous Island based music, the Keroxen imprint now presents Vol.4 with another showcase of the various insular musical scenes made in the outermost regions – in this case, a very rare incursion outside the Canary Archipelago by way of handpicking friends and colleagues working in the further most regions we can think of. A very special showcase then, featuring the Azores Islands, Reunion Island, Canary Islands and French Guiana - a true connection of likeminded minds whom demonstrate once again that you do not need to be in an western hipster mecca to make interesting work.

The presentation format sticks to its breakable rules, with each artist offering one track per side and the full thing of course wrapped up in Pura Marquez dizzying post-tropical art.

The album opens with the Julee Cruise inspired project Akane by Tenerife’s Carolina Machado where synth arpeggios intertwine organically with her soothing voice, setting the tone for Reunion Island’s Jako Maron and his unique take on local Maloya music by way of electrifying it into a trance like looping beat. Enter French Guyana’s Daryanna Jean unique sound artistry with sampling, cutting and pasting local(?) sounds into a disorientating needle jump glitch fest. Side A eventually closes with a very Azorean take on the very English hauntological sound by borrowing those pastoral melodies and synth riffs of yesterday and transposing it to the remote Sub-Tropical fields of São Miguel island, in the Azores, courtesy of Flipping Candy.

Side B emphatically reinforces the compilation’s original concept that no matter where you are, in this post internet, post everything world, outsider music thrives and keeps raising the invisible bar, true that!

A collection of structured piano improvisations and their surrounding sonic environments, an album in four parts: Songs From a Distant Summer | From November For Snow | Together Recorded between 2011-2013, the album was never intended to be a direct response to the seasons. The coincidence of the recordings having been made at points within the seasons was only pointed out at a later date by a friend. Alongside wishing to avoid any parallels or associations being drawn with Vivaldi’s masterpiece, the title - “The Seasons Are Not Four” - a line from a poem by Syrian poet Adonis , appeared to fit perfectly - recognising our relationship to time but also alluding to the impossibility of truly categorising it. Due to label arrangements and complications the majority of these recordings have remained unreleased for a decade. One notable exception being the piece “I Promise”, that went on to amass in excess of 24 million streams - an unfathomable prospect for a piano-less pianist recording a reunion between himself and a piano at a point of not having played one for several months. The Seasons Are Not Four serves as a sonic record of real-time responses to the character of a piano, to transient states of being and to disparate, fleeting moments in time - some will hear Summer in Winter, others- Autumn in Spring; distant conversation beyond the sounds of a hesitant human shuffling fingers against wooden keys, the ticking of a grandfather clock or the song of birds outside masking passing traffic. - ‘The Seasons Are Not Four, a week is not seven days, a year is more than it is, and less’ Adonis

Flora Yin Wong’s ravishing interiority finds lucid expression on an absorbing second album for Modern Love, manifesting her instrumental storytelling in a syncretic bind of supernatural themes with hyperrealist, concrète sound design.

Through ten parts, Flora crystallises the ennui that followed an uncanny, disorienting trip to East and Southeast Asia. “On an unexpected stopover in Hong Kong after five years away, my friends took me to a Bazi reader one night - something I was curious about, but much of a ritual for them - ” Flora recalls. “My father told me that when I was born, he had obtained an auspicious reading that since stayed like a guiding talisman with me. It was almost past midnight but people were still lined up, rather shaken and visibly upset, to see the old man. He had kind eyes and asked me why I was there and I said I was at a crossroads. He asked me my time and date of birth, and told me to pick one of his four little white canary birds as a vessel for divination.”

This was the final stretch of an ultimately aimless few months across the continent, including a 20 year overdue return with her father to his adoptive family in his hometown Kuala Lumpur - for many reasons, ended up as a strange and uncanny trip. She spent solitude in a haunted house during the quiet snowfall of Kyoto, where she might have offended some spirit... and nights in mountain temples with South Korean monks, and an equally strange feeling return to the Island of the Gods.

“It culminated in what felt like a final disillusionment with Asia - sudden deaths and a breakdown in beliefs - somewhere I never really have or will be able to connect with. The process of the reading summoned a final blow to my gut - an overwhelming sense of rootlessness, and understanding that all there is is emptiness and entropy. No birth-divined protection, just a measurement of the night sky based off nothing and everything.”

Heavy with a sense of nightmarish dissociation and grief, Flora read about Giuseppe Tartini’s ‘Violin Sonata in G Minor’, aka the Devil’s Trill Sonata, a notoriously tricky c.18th composition which attempted to transcribe music heard in a dream, which the composer felt he could never fully bring into reality. It’s this soporific motif that binds and underpins ’Cold Reading’, finding Flora chasing the dragon of fleeting fantasy through passages of etched melancholy, pinched with hypnagogic jerks that linger in the memory.

From her use of the ‘Devil’s Trill’ Sonata in ‘All My Dreams are Nightmares’ through evocations of subtropical humidity in the Bryn Jones-esque, resonant hand-played percussion of ‘Konna’ and ‘Banjar’, to a breathtaking dreampop denouement ‘Nectar Dripping’ and the Enya-like lush of ‘Beautiful Crisis’, Flora blooms her ideas with an openended ambiguity so often missing from so called Ambient music, ushering the listener into a soundworld that disturbs and displaces, just as much as it calms.

Balmat co-founders Philip Sherburne and Albert Salinas have been fans of Shy Layers’ lilting, Balearic pop for years, so when Shy Layers’ JD Walsh asked us to listen to a set of demos he was working up with fellow Atlanta multi-instrumentalist Jeff Crompton, we jumped at the chance. And once we heard their work in progress, the decision was almost immediate: We have to release this.

Together, Walsh and Crompton are Anagrams, and their debut album together, Blue Voices, might initially seem like a departure from Balmat’s habitually electronic terrain. It’s not ambient music, but it’s also not not ambient music, at least to listeners in the right frame of mind. The two musicians, who met when Walsh moved from Brooklyn to Atlanta in 2016 and began collaborating a few years later, see the music in similarly ambiguous terms. “I like it because it’s not jazz,” jokes Crompton, a veteran and credentialed jazz player. “And JD likes it because it’s jazz.”

Crompton is a musician (and former high-school band teacher) with deep roots in Georgia’s improvised and experimental music scenes; his credits include shows with Eugene Chadbourne, a guest appearance with Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and a collaboration with Duet for Theremin and Lap Steel’s 12-hour drone performance at Knoxville’s Big Ears. On Blue Voices he plays alto and tenor saxophone, clarinet, electric piano, and organ. Walsh has been releasing music as Shy Layers since 2015, when he started self-releasing on Bandcamp; the following year, Germany’s Growing Bin packaged his first two EPs as a self-titled album, and in 2018, Tim Sweeney’s Beats in Space label put out Shy Layers’ sophomore album, Midnight Marker. Where those records channeled Walsh’s playful harmonic instincts into wistful songwriting with tropical overtones, on Blue Voices he lets his experimental tendencies take the lead. Playing acoustic and electric guitars, electric lap steel, bass, Moog Matriarch, modular synth, and programmed drums, he concentrates his energies on richly textural layers and abstract assemblages of tone color.

Across the album’s 11 tracks, there are faint echoes of familiar touchstones: the atmospheric twang of Daniel Lanois’ pedal steel on Apollo: Atmospheres and Soundtracks; the mercurial modal runs of Ethio- jazz; the late-summer calm of Fuubutsushi; the versatility of players and composers like Patrick Shiroishi and Sam Gendel, who are asking similar questions about where jazz ends and some other, nameless territory begins. Mostly, though, what Blue Voices captures is the quixotic sound of two restless musical imaginations making it up as they go along, two voices discovering a shared language in a hitherto unexplored shade of blue.

The vinyl edition comes with 6 high-quality lithograph art prints (by UK illustrator Hannah Alice) representing each of the birds on the album, held in a heavy board die-cut gatefold sleeve. This unique packaging is fully interactive - the cover image is interchangeable with any of the prints. Remastered by Brian Pyle from original tapes. Bert Jansch was often quoted as saying "I'm not playing for anyone, just myself" and this feels no more apparent than on 1979's 'Avocet', his beautifully meditative paean to British birds. For fans of Jansch this is often the album that is singled out as his best work. The freedoms of a post-Pentangle career are much in evidence; folk rock and even trad folk give way to an album that is not only without lyrical accompaniment but really quite orchestral, classical even, in its composition. There are surprises in particular in 'Lapwing' (a dirge-like waltz that wouldn't be out of place on a Nils Frahm album) and 'Bittern' (which speaks of Arthur Russell's more experimental pieces). Featuring ex-bandmate Danny Thompson, alongside Martin Jenkins (Dando Shaft, amongst others) with sleeve notes by Jansch aficionado Colin Harper (author of 'Dazzling Stranger: Bert Jansch and the British Folk and Blues revival'). Ltd ART PRINT EDITION, Classic Black vinyl, plus DLC w/ bonus live tracks.

The legendary Belgian label Antler comes back to life! Pioneering in the 80's and 90's and an absolute spearhead in the world of post punk, cold and new wave, EBM, electro... a series of albums and compilations from the extensive Antler archives are now being released again. The first is a remastered version of this double album by the Limburg Cold Wavers Siglo XX, from 1984. One album with studio tracks and a full live album, mainly recorded in the Netherlands in 1983/84.

Artist and multi-instrumentalist Flaer looks to the landscape to explore pastoral melancholy on debut release, Preludes.

Ensconced in his family home in rural Leicestershire in the early months of 2020, painter and musician Realf Heygate (b. 1994) picked up his childhood cello for the first time in several years and began to play. Setting himself parameters to only record onto 4-track tape with acoustic instruments – cello, piano and acoustic guitar – he assembled a suite of instrumental compositions that form the basis of Preludes, his debut album as Flaer and the inaugural release on Odda Recordings.

Channelling the tension and unease between the pastoral idyll of the English countryside and the darkness which lurks beneath the surface, the mini-album draws inspiration from the analogue aesthetic of 1970s folk horror films, weaving field recordings of birdsong, church bells and the natural environment into chimerical melodies that reflect on Heygate’s childhood experiences of rural England.

“It was really important not to isolate the sound from its environment,” he explains, describing the compositional and recording process as “site-specific”. Developed over a series of intuitive musical enquiries, the mini-album’s uncanny quality emerges from combining raw demo takes with overdubs of almost orchestral grandeur.

Heygate points to the final track as indicative of the work as a whole: “‘Follow’ really is the mantra for the release and embodies the practical approach I was taking to music making: not to force the music but see where it takes you.”

As a painter, Heygate’s practice takes artefacts through sequences of reproduction that embrace the fluctuating materiality of the copy. Since obtaining a degree in Fine Art from Central Saint Martins in 2017, he has exhibited solo at Peter von Kant and Springseason galleries in London, and has participated in group shows at Saatchi Gallery, Cob Gallery and Senesi Contemporanea.

Describing his artistic practice as one of self-erasure, music instead provides Heygate with a more personal and autobiographical outlet. Where the two worlds combine is on Preludes’ striking artwork, which features paintings of 13th century stone carvings from the font of the church in the town where he grew up.

Speaking to a time where people were connected to the land in a more profound way, each symbol is assigned to a track on the album, which Heygate likens to giving them a title.

“To add that one juxtaposition might open a whole new interpretation or language that might be hard to find otherwise,” he explains.“Over time it might reveal itself to you, which is why I'm excited about it being released. To throw them out there and see what comes of it.”

Vladislav Delay presents the fourth EP in his "Hide Behind The Silence" series with five 10" releases coming throughout 2023. Intuitive and raw music, momentary and reflective, released on Ripatti's own label "Rajaton".

Stillness is a myth. Consider concepts such as ”still water”, or ”still air” for that matter. Go to a restaurant, ask them for a glass of still water, hold it against the light and see where we’re at. Even though the water itself has been captured and imprisoned in the glass, it never stops breathing. It’s filled with tiny particles, dancing. Everything can be explained on a molecular level, but since we’re not scientists – and even if you happen to be – it’s the natural world of perception that moves me.

Still air is very similar. A hot summer’s day with zero wind feels completely still. It’s the closest I have felt to complete stillness. Or for a more urban adaptation, imagine the same vibe inside a normal apartment. In those moments, revelations and mind- blowing experiences can be had with experiments in stillness.
Try this: Just sit down for a minute on a sunny day, making sure there’s enough natural light. Do absolutely nothing. Try not to breathe for a bit. (If you need a mental anchor, you can play Cage’s 4’33” in your head but nothing else.) Watch the tiny dots of dust dancing :..’ ̈.:; ́ ́*°.,’:,. ̈ ̈ ̈ ̈:,.’
The movement is crazy, but the feeling of stillness comes from witnessing how subtle it is. In (perceived) complete stillness, every act of microscopic mobility seems to speak volumes. Yet, it feels both reassuring and oddly threatening that the stillness is never complete. What if we would need absolute stillness? Or is it just enough that we can perceive something as such? Extremes attract, so for both water and air, extraordinary movement is equally fascinating. That is also a luxury item of sorts. For us to enjoy a very ”loud” body of water or air, we need to be safe, in enough control of the situation. So when you are, it’s worthwhile to pay attention and take it all in.
A rapid flowing free with extreme strength and just barely in control. Look at that water go! No still water on this one, only ”sparkling”. A windy day when birds seem surprised how hard it is to fly, but in the end they make it. Trees bend but don’t break. The wind shows you its movement but doesn’t hurt you. It feels friendly, like a big clumsy dog that doesn’t quite understand its size.
It’s beautiful to be a guest of the elements, but not at the mercy of them. A new kind of dialogue forms.

Q&A with Sasu Ripatti:

1) Tell us something about the EP series ”Hide Behind the Silence”, what’s the idea and what can we expect?

Exploration of inaction. Of many kinds. In arts and in personal life, or at bigger and more serious levels. Questioning myself as a human being as well as an artist. Acknowledging the growing activism all around, and the very clear need for it, and how it reflects my own inaction.
Musically speaking, after Rakka, Isoviha and Speed Demon, I finally found some relief, but more importantly lost the need to go musically ever more outward and intensive. I felt quite strongly certain periods/moods from the past and they made me revisit some musical ideas or states of mind I was exploring early on.
It’s about live moments being captured, not much premeditation or editing. More intuitive and raw, even though the end result (to me) feels and sounds quite introspective and calm. It’s not very ambitious. Momentary and reflective.

2) Your music doesn’t sound very silent. Does it come from somewhere behind the silence?

Oh, this time to me it sounds quite quiet and playing with space if not silence. I don’t know what’s actually behind silence, but I think silence is the source of everything. We just don’t understand it yet.

3) What kind of thoughts or experiences gave inspiration to this series?

Writing this in Nov ’22, it’s not a stretch to say the world has been really unwell. Sometimes, like Mika Vainio put it, the world eats you up. I feel a bit like that. And I try to hide in my studio and stay away from it all, but it’s getting harder by the day. I’ve been questioning myself and thinking if what us artists are doing is worth anything, and whether it’s just a selfish thing I’ve been doing for the past 25 years, running away from everything. I haven’t come to a conclusion yet.

4) Is it easy for you to be in silence, or around silence?

Absolutely. I not only hide behind silence but I also love silence. It’s only since I started going back to nature as a grown-up person that I sensed and was enveloped by silence, true silence. I have begun to appreciate it a lot. I think all the people should spend more time in silence.

All tracks composed and produced by Sasu Ripatti.
Artwork by Marc Hohmann, photography by Shinnosuke Yoshimori.
Mastering by Stephan Mathieu for Schwebung Mastering.
Vinyl cut by SST Brueggemann.
Publishing by WARP Music Ltd.

Repress.

EYE is back. Metamujer marks the third installment on the Knekelhuis label and we’re extremely happy to release this document of another chapter in Laurène Exposito’s life. Recorded on various locations ranging from the Swiss mountains to the chalky coasts of Brittany, Metamujer is an 8-track ode to salty love and closeness to nature, a tribute to a modest lifestyle à la Henry David Thoreau. Far from being praise for self-sufficiency, this new LP is deeply influenced by Laurène’s environment. We can hear Korg MS-10 created synthetic waves (Sanatorium) and birds (Luscinia), but one can also catch her singing in Italian, one of 3 languages spoken in Switzerland. Still minimalist and yet more aesthetically diverse, her new sounds are on the edge of EBM and synth pop, between classic minimal wave tunes and rustic ballads on acid.

The Living Mountain is the second solo album from songwriter Jenny Sturgeon (singer and multi- instrumentalist in Salt House and Northern Flyway), recorded and produced by Andy Bell at Clashnettie Arts Centre in the Cairngorms National Park.

The Living Mountain is inspired by Nan Shepherd's book The Living Mountain and Jenny's experience growing up near, and walking in, the Cairngorms. In the album Jenny explores her own connection to this highland area as well as delving into Nans philosophy of being in the mountains and peoples connection to the wild.

The twelve songs take inspiration from the chapter titles of Nans book; the lyrics tell of exploration, love, loss and wonder at the natural world from small scale mosses and moths to the wider landscape and ecosystem.

The album features Mairi Campbell on viola and vocals, Su-a Lee on cello, Grant Anderson on bass and vocals, and sound recordings from Jez Riley-French and Magnus Robb.

The highs is Mike Stud’s first album to be officially released under his new name and style of music. He now goes by the name “mike.” This is the first album of the upcoming trilogy he has in the works. “the highs, the lows and the inbetweens.” These are all part of the KEEPGOING trilogy under his new name and style.

Initial Code presents his first EP, - Iteration Of A Dream - released on Brussels based label X/Y/Secret. All tracks are promising to be a thrilling exploration of groovy, loopy, and mental techno, featuring a remix by Raar. The remix pushes the original track into a deeper, more fast-paced universe, with an unique sound design and an abundance of energy. This EP is a true timeless tool that everyone should add to their collection.

The debut recording by Setting, a trio comprising Nathan Bowles (solo/trio, Pelt, Black Twig Pickers); Jaime Fennelly (Mind Over Mirrors, Peeesseye); and Joe Westerlund (solo, Califone, Sylvan Esso, Jake Xerxes Fussell). Deluxe LP edition features 140g black virgin vinyl and a reverse board jacket with art by Timothy Breen. Deluxe CD edition features a gatefold jacket with art by Timothy Breen. RIYL: Popol Vuh, Brian Eno’s Ambient 4, Harmonia, The Necks. Setting, befitting its name which can be read as noun or verb, and simultaneously suggests the sun, or any star in the firmament from our earthbound perspective; a story and its surroundings, its scenic context or mise en scène; or a psychedelic experience, as in the prescription to mind one’s “set and setting” arose outdoors, uncontained and unconstrained by architecture. The group’s debut recording Shone a Rainbow Light On traverses textural, phosphorescent topography with a certified organic folk-engine. Kosmische correspondences are inevitable and valid, but also somewhat deceptive, given this meditative music’s terrestrial rootedness in the familiar natural world, more in native humus and humidity than in outer space. Fuelled by a vibratory hybrid of acoustic and electronic instrumentation, these four stately longform pieces sound like a UFO slowly sinking into a peat bog (or, as we call it in North Carolina, a pocosin). An instrumental trio comprising Nathan Bowles (solo/trio, Pelt, Black Twig Pickers) on strings, keys, and percussion; Jaime Fennelly (Mind Over Mirrors, Peeesseye) on harmoniums, synthesizers, and piano zither; and Joe Westerlund (solo, Califone, Sylvan Esso, Jake Xerxes Fussell) on drums, percussion, and metallophones, Setting established its own setting and found its footing in regularly scheduled improvisational sessions outside Westerlund’s home in Durham, North Carolina, beginning in 2021. The three players began as two, in the context of occasional Bowles and Westerlund percussion duo performances dating back to 2018. Fennelly provided the initial impetus to gather and play together with intentionality and discipline, as well as an harmonic adhesive and thickening agent in the grain and gravity of his harmonium and synthesizer. As always, Bowles’s background as a pianist and drummer informs his approach to banjo, imparting a woodiness, a piney verticality and resinous tang. Westerlund’s training with Milford Graves is apparent in his polyrhythmic flow and its correspondences to human circulatory and corporeal rhythms. They recorded their collective discoveries with engineer Nick Broste in the spring of 2022.The record begins, like the group’s name, and like the language of its unique instrumental interplay, with ambiguous grammar: “We Center,” the first and longest track at thirteen and a half minutes, builds patiently to a percolating climax of tidal heaving, with ceremonial connotations. “Zoetropics,” the shortest piece, follows, offering a more diaphanous counterpoint to the density of its predecessor. The zithery, shivering “A Sun Harp,” its title redolent of Sun Ra, showcases Westerlund’s unfettered drumming, which skitters restlessly until anchored, at its conclusion, by a minor bass progression. Finally, “Fog Glossaries” exhales through the maritime and meteorological evocations of its title, distant buoys clanging. Although certainly elements and strategies of so-called ambient and drone musical traditions are invoked and deployed, those diffuse terms feel inadequate to describe everything else happening here: the devotional valences, the minimalist rigor, and even submarine jazz inclinations perceptible beneath the surface. Throughout this four-movement program, which invites deep listening, it is often difficult to differentiate individual instruments from the massed choir of the group’s unified sonic presence. At times what sound like field recordings cicadas, birds, wind, water splash out of this slow but powerful current, only to be revealed as overtones produced by harmonium, banjo, or cymbals. Setting’s sound is fundamentally synthetic in the sense of synthesis, not artifice—in a manner remarkable for its almost entirely acoustic arsenal of instrumentation, often registering as the product of a single alien technology, perhaps the rainbow lights of that bog-marooned UFO. (“Setting,” of course, can also refer to a machine’s variable operational amplitude its temperature, volume, speed, elevation, etc.) Sometimes the most seemingly extraterrestrial lifeforms are in fact our unfamiliar earthbound neighbors. Despite the destruction of many such habitats, the coastal plains of eastern, tidewater North Carolina is home to more pocosins freshwater, evergreen wetlands with deep, acidic, sandy, peat soils than anywhere else in the world. These threatened peat-bog ecosystems are the only native environment to sustain the carnivorous Venus flytrap, among other oddities. The sonic ecosystem of Setting similarly deep, acidic, and boggy contains equivalent wonders, savage and delicate, for listeners willing to take the time to sink.

You can listen closely to singer- songwriter Julian Saporiti's lyrics, which juxtapose true stories of struggle from throughout Asia and its diaspora with Saporiti's own reckoning with intergenerational trauma.

You could also let the majesty of Saporiti's songcraft wash over you, his captivating melodies cloaking those themes in a veneer of hope and ecstasy. But the deepest storytelling happens at the sonic level, as sounds drawn from across the Eastern hemisphere mingle freely with distinctly American instrumentation - banjo and koto, lap-steel and guzheng - while electronically manipulated field recordings of rushing water, chirping birds and other natural sounds ground us in the now. Adventurous and affecting,' Empire Electric' offers a vision for a new kind of folk music, one that tells unorthodox stories through unorthodox means and finds new pathways through our tangled roots.

It’s 6am on Sunday the 24th of January and I’m driving vaguely towards the beach.

Suitcase in the water is a tapestry of musical vignettes, field recordings and fragmented anecdotes that blur diary and fiction. On Monday 23rd of March 2020, police in England dyed the ‘Buxton Blue Lagoon’ black to deter visitors from swimming in the former limestone quarry. Things now float in that water.

Created during the pandemic by Jacob Dwyer and Sam Purcell, Suitcase in the water is a personal snapshot in time, and an insight into the private worlds of two remote collaborators.