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Following last year’s Cyber Sunshine single and Vantage Point EP, plus the former’s expansion into a Deluxe Remix Pack EP just this Spring, trusty Dutch trance traders Match Box are miraculously back with their fourth consecutive glistening Goddezz release. This time, it’s a double offering whose boundless celestial charm again centres around the star we owe it all to: think of High En3rgy as the sunset daydream and Clint’s remix the sunrise epiphany.

Spanning 8 minutes and 7 seconds that slip by all too soon, High En3rgy is a lucent, dreamlike journey not easily forgotten. Layering a faintly melancholic and hauntingly simple melody over a nonetheless pulsating bassline, it accomplishes something rare: an emotive marrying of the wistful and the rousing. The effect is a plucky, heartening sound that walks a tightrope between nostalgic reflection and enduring anticipation. It’s delicate yet driving - the gorgeous sonic expression of a sunset daydream that could leave you leaning either way.

Whether you emerge from that musing trance with a lump in your throat or a fire in your belly, Clint’s remix is the impossibly ideal next step. Faithfully refracting its originator’s sound whilst instantly supercharging the mood from spirited to high-spirited, its giddy rhythm and buoyant-turned-bouncy beat inject pure, immediate, perhaps emergency enlivenment. It’s more than fun, playful or invigorating: it’s irresistibly, heroically stirring - and once its sunrise synths come scorching over the horizon, you’re passing through gleeful exhilaration into sublime elation, with no hope of holding back any tears.

With extensive practical and academic understanding of the ‘remix’ process, Stian Balducci takes on the role of audio architect in this refined and redesigned remix album.

His meticulous approach has not replaced, but built upon Kjetil Jerve’s piano material and boasts a thorough dedication to mood and timbre through-out. The outcome combines new strokes of colour and delicately layered textures, offering fresh perspectives to an old canvas. The aural landscape takes shape in progressive, parabolic pulsations, coupled with sparse, rhythmic heart-throbs that embody the faint silhouettes of drum reverberations. This atmospheric landscape is complimented with subtle, pensive keys from Kjetil’s piano recordings that add emotional depth to the work and pay diligent tribute to the free structures of jazz.

The final project may be understood as a window, giving view to life’s sentient and evocative themes, without ever infringing on their delicacy. The sonic progressions tap into nature’s cycles through meditative repetition and offer the listener some brief respite from innate human habits of over-thinking.

As the contents of the album unfold, we are taken reassuringly by the hand to familiar, foreign lands, filled with curious sonorous tales and subtle insights that shed light on a world of deeper perception.

In keeping with the communal ethos of Dugnad Rec, ‘Tokyo Tapes: Piano Recycle’ reflects a thoughtful exchange between Stian and Kjetil. Stian professed that the project went ahead with just one rule: “to work only with the original source material, no external samples or sound sources”. This puritan approach spotlights a shared characteristic between them; namely, a unified desire to explore vibrations and a wholistic dedication to sound experimentation.

The music of Will Griffith's The Great Dying is a mix he likes to call dark country. He grew up in Cleveland, Mississippi, where D.I.Y. punk house shows hooked him, and his early bands played The Farmhouse and legendary delta juke joint Po' Monkey's. Songs from The Great Dying's new album, A Constant Goodbye, were born from playing hundreds of shows supporting Bloody Noses & Roses (Dial Back Sound 2018), and it continues where the debut left off. The ballads are still sweet and menaced, the rockers are still hair-raisers, but the new record pushes in new directions, infusing sounds of classic country with faint traces of The Replacements and what was once called "alternative rock." The tracks are layered and varied: wall-of-sound arrangements grind against flange-bass and fiddle, with Griffith's barebones acoustic guitar and vocals at the root, and heartbreak all over. Coming from another artist, this blend of influences would tank, but somehow it suits The Great Dying just fine. Pick any number on the new album-it's a winner.

The Faint has always been perceived as a series of paradoxes: Nebraskans trafficking in electro pop anthems; a five-person outfit who insist on songwriting democracy; punk rockers laying down their guitars for a decidedly untypical kind of punk rock.

Things that don’t make sense at first often make sense later. In the creation of art, when the process is left up to the subconscious mind, when there is no preconceived concept, patterns still always emerge. Themes and recurring images, blurred in the moment, later become clear.

This is the case with The Faint’s sixth album Doom Abuse, an unexpected but also inevitable addition to their compellingly unusual catalog of music.

Erste Vinyl-Reissue der fünften The Faint-LP aus 2008. Limitierte Auflage auf Opaque Blue Vinyl.

One look at the axe-wielding marauder (drawn by famed heavy metal illustrator Edward Repka) on the front of this album and you know it’s not for the faint of heart. Canadian metal band 3 Inches of Blood’s musical attack (an appropriate term indeed) featured a unique, dual lead vocal line-up of Cam Pipes on “clean” vocals and Jamie Hooper on “screaming” vocals, with bludgeoning guitars (okay, axes) provided by Sunny Dhak and Bobby Froese (Dhak, Froese, and drummer Matt Wood left after this album to form Pride Tiger). Though this record came out in 2004 on the Roadrunner label, it wears its ‘80s metal allegiances on its sleeve, harkening back to the vein-popping intensity of vintage Judas Priest and Accept. Remastered on its 20th anniversary for an orange and black “ashen dawn” vinyl pressing, with a full-color inner sleeve sporting lyrics. Storm the castle!

- New signing to Basin Rock label who released breakthrough albums by Julie Byrne, Nadia Reid, Aoife Nessa Frances, Jim Ghedi, Andrew Tuttle, Trevor Beales….
- Limited edition black vinyl with download code.

French lullabies and traditional folk songs dating as far back as the 14th century, adapted with contemporary arrangements and faint tape manipulations in Dublin, Ireland.
Imagine Serge Gainsbourg, John Martyn and Gábor Szabó squeezed on a small stage in the early hours of a smokey backstreet Parisian jazz club, slowly hypnotising the audience into hypnagogic hallucinations.
Growing up, Kevin Fowley split his time between living in France and Ireland. He listened to French lullabies sung by his mother in one room, while his father would be playing Donegal tunes on the fiddle in another. “I’m lucky to have been brought up bilingual and bicultural,” he says. “What I find interesting is that I usually think in English, but if I intentionally start thinking in French, a markedly different side of my personality comes through, encouraging different thought patterns.”
And this is apparent on his beautiful record of French lullabies À Feu Doux, which encompasses musical elements from both worlds, as it seamlessly glides across folk, jazz, and a rich yet shimmering in between sound. Varnished and exposed is the feeling that floats through À Feu Doux like a gentle gust of wind creeping in through the open window at night. Real night time music.

This album was recorded in Philadelphia in 1977 by Rare Feelings, a band led by Rick Mason, who was fully involved as songwriter, arranger, and producer while also supporting the band's groove as bassist. This is a superb example of one of the few soul and funk hard diggers that every hard digger has wished to have and has been lucky enough to acquire, and it is a masterpiece that is numbing not only in its sound but also in its vintage-inspired artwork! Rick Mason's bass roars, the organ and horns fold in and out, and a faintly haunting vocal (?) enters, blended with an exquisite psychedelic feel. The opening track "Rare Feelings" (A1) blends exquisite psychedelic sensation with slap bass, swirling intro, raging horns and organ, and then suddenly changes the tone to mid-tempo with the intertwining of bewitching vocals again. The song suddenly changes to a mid-tempo and leads to "Dope" (A2) with its bewitching vocals, a sound that is worthy of being called rare groove! The instrumental number "Metamorphosis Funk" (B2), which features not only bass and organ, but also continuous drum fill-in, fast cutting guitar and solo, and flute lead, is sure to get the floor going! This is the first official reissue in the world!

Coloured vinyl repress of Penguin Cafe album Rain Before Seven… A sense of optimism infuses Penguin Cafe’s fifth studio album, not the braggadocious, overconfident kind, but more a blithe, self-effacing optimism in keeping with the national character. Even when all signs point to the contrary, it operates within the certainty that things are going to be alright. Probably.

The title comes from an old weather proverb with the rhyming prognostication — fine before eleven — hinting at a happy ending, irrespective of the science: “I found it in a book and I'd never heard it before,” says Arthur Jeffes, leader of Penguin Cafe. “It has faintly optimistic overtones and I quite like it. It's fallen out of usage recently but it does describe English weather patterns coming in off the Atlantic.”

From the widescreen reverie of opener ‘Welcome to London’ with its cheeky nod to Morricone to ‘Goldfinch Yodel’, the self-described “Maypole banger” at the denouement, there’s a welcome sense of sanguinity, always with an undercurrent of exotic rhythmic exuberance. Playfulness pervades, with a titular nod to A Matter of Life... from 2011, the last album title that concluded with an ellipsis. That Penguin Cafe debut is the bridge between the legendary Penguin Cafe Orchestra, led by Arthur’s father Simon Jeffes, and the much- loved descendent, led by Arthur.

“Stylistically it's really satisfying to get back to playful rhythms and instruments,” says the younger Jeffes, who kept the group’s debut from 12 years ago in mind when writing the new album. “Certainly when starting out, I became aware that we’d stopped using quite a few of the textures that had been there at the beginning—and it was certainly there in my dad's earlier stuff. So there's a lot of balafon and textures from completely different parts of the world, musically and geographically: ukuleles, cuatros and melodicas that you can hear.”

Encouraged by co-producer Robert Raths, the rhythmic elements of Rain Before Seven... have never been more to the fore and, at times, even hint at the electronic. ‘Find Your Feet’, for instance, is underpinned with more than just a pulse. Mixed by Tom Chichester-Clark, it brings to the musical melange what Arthur describes as a “near electronic feel”. He adds, excitedly: “There are elements of fun here which we haven't really done with the last three records.” Another ebullient highlight is ‘In Re Budd’, dedicated to the late ambient godfather Harold Budd, who Arthur discovered had died on the day he’d been writing the celebratory ear worm with a deceptively tricky syncopation. Played on an upright piano with some “prepared” felt to accentuate the bounce, Jeffes feels a track with an Afro Cuban Cafe vibe would appeal to Budd’s contrariness.

2024 Repress

Physically and mentally draining in the best way possible, Wet Will Always Dry is maybe the most complete statement from Blawan to date, and as such should be ignored at your peril. This becomes evident from the album-opening 'Klade,' a dizzying, tumbling flight of pure energy over overlapping fields of electrified menace. This sets the stage for 'Careless,' which retains the hazardous, crackling atmosphere but dials back the intensity just enough to make room for a new feature, Blawan's eerie and disembodied vocals.

'Tasser' ratchets up the tempo and the frenetic energy yet more, slinging chunks of audio shrapnel and grinding factory noise over the kick-heavy beat, only letting up the tension every now and then for a convulsive breakdown. By the arrival of 'Vented,' a more steady, cycling groove has set in along with the accompaniment of suspenseful melodic swells, but the element of surprise is far from gone: there still seem to be spectral entities lurking around every corner, and there's no shortage of intriguing tumbril weirdness blowing around the imaginary streets that this track conjures up.

The slamming 'North' keeps alive the record's persistent, darkly humorous feeling that things are about to go off the rails at any moment, using wildly contorted sequences and granular debris to shift between total abandon and regimented strictness. A moment of relative calmness, along with the return of the atmospheric vocals, comes about with 'Stell,' a faintly dubby track that leaves an impression like watching streams of traffic progress underneath rolling, deep grey clouds.

'Kalosi' brings back the percussive motif of 'Tasser' and 'North,' this time partnering it with loops that bring to mind radioactive bass strings. 'Nims' then shuts things down with infectious harp-like sequences, fuzz-shrouded percussion and an 'everything but the kitchen sink' mentality towards filtering and processes which will get the attention of all but the most jaded soundhead.

Scottish experimental/electronic musician Drew McDowall's lifelong interest in an elegiac solo bagpipe style called pibroch (ceòl mòr in Gaelic) has been an inspiration for much of his previous work (including Coil's legendary Time Machines). This form, often traditionally used for laments and for tributes to the dead, fuses modal drones with flickering dissonance and plaintive melody evoking an ancient, solemn mood. His latest work, A Thread, Silvered and Trembling, both incorporates and transforms these elements via exploratory electronic processing, weaving an electro-acoustic tapestry of strings, shudders, voids, and voices, alternately disembodied and displaced. Co-produced with engineer Randall Dunn at Circular Ruin Studios in Brooklyn, the collection's four pieces capture McDowall at his most elevated and elusive, in thrall to "the ineffable - that which refuses to be spoken." McDowall's palette here is unusually eclectic, sourced from a dynamic orchestral ensemble arranged by Brent Arnold and comprised of cello, viola, violin, harp (Marilu Donovan of LEYA), and french horn. Ebbing between shrouded electronics and enigmatic, sometimes spectralist orchestration, the album moves with a seething, simmering energy, surging into elegant, uneasy crescendos. The first two pieces are inspired by a liberatory hijacking and inversion of a grim biblical story (and by a cryptic and strange UK simple syrup branding). Opener "Out of Strength Comes Sweetness" shivers with short echo and resonant pads, before shifting into the album's centerpiece: the 14-minute saga "And Lions Will Sing with Joy." A murmuring electrical storm of keening strings and disorienting drones gradually grows darker and denser, until suddenly there's a crack in the clouds, revealing mutated choral voices and sparkling harp. McDowall describes the track as "an incantation to help usher in a break, and a new beginning." The record's latter half evokes a deep untamed animism shot through with spiraling radiance. "In Wound and Water" sways with harp, plucked strings and eerie cello undertows while lush layers of disorientated electronics hang in the dusk. There is no resolution, only a faint gradient of fragile dissipation, leading into the album's harrowing and climactic closer, "A Dream of a Cartographic Membrane Dissolves." Processed voices (credited on the liner notes to "The Ghosts Who Refuse to Rest") contort, whisper, and gather as the rest of the ensemble sharpens, poising to strike. Then it does - grand, tragic stabs of strings and horns lashing the sky, storming heaven by force. The fallout is poetic and inevitable, raining embers into a dark sea. But the journey and catharsis of A Thread linger long after it goes silent. Like so much of McDowall's multifaceted catalog, this is music of immanence and alchemy, attuned equally to the sacred and the profane, to the tile and the mosaic.

Circling guitar lines; the rise of fall of delicate bass; deep, breathy horns: sonic elements that exist in a state of slow, perpetual motion, like ideas sprouting from some kind of cognitive compost. With wonder and charm, G. S. Schray's new solo album, Whispered Something Good, evokes a realm of new growth while offering a fitting soundtrack for its exploration, as if tailor made for both the daydreamer and silly adventurer.


We start in the darkness of "Unlit Center" with elliptical phrases of jazz guitar. A conversation between double bass, synthesiser, and piano plays out on "In Tears Twice A Page" before we're ushered into the reflective zone of "Another Haunted Mirror." There is synth mist which trumpet cuts through decisively like a shaft of light from the sun: warm and clear. As the album proceeds, firmer rhythms coalesce. On "Prelude for Probably," clattering drums lock into a triumphant groove with horns. And then, to close, the instrumental art-pop of "Gone in Amber," probing not necessarily towards a final destination but another stop-off, one of distant birdsong and the faintest flicker of synth. Intimate and inviting, the act of listening to Whispered Something Good is akin to digging through an imagination. It's a place of subliminal melodies blooming into rhizomatic musical shapes, stray musings coalescing as bolts of inspiration — change fostering yet more change.

The lost soundtrack to "Chess of the Wind," Iran's banned 1976 queer-gothic-class-horror masterpiece, restored by the director and released for the first time. Not for the faint of heart!

Cleveland death metal legends-in-waiting 200 Stab Wounds have returned with Manual Manic Procedures, a superlative sophomore effort that follows 2021’s Slave to the Scalpel, their tour de force debut. The new album is a brutal slab of old school death metal with a contemporary edge. Not for the faint-hearted, Manual Manic Procedures may well be the album that puts classic gore-themed ferocity back into the metal community’s collective consciousness. The band's debut, "Slave to the Scalpel" saw 200 Stab Wounds insinuate themselves into the minds of extreme metal fans, leading to praise from Pitchfork for their “unpretentious brilliance, pitch-black sense of humor” and an “aesthetic that’s built around a chugging, groovy riff that stomps down a path of destruction.” Manual Manic Procedures sees the band upping the ante both musically and lyrically. Ultimately, for 200 Stab Wounds, it’s all about creating art that they enjoy. “I know that if we like it, our fans will like it,” says Buhl. “That's really all that matters to us. And if we keep touring, it's just gonna get bigger and bigger. Then everyone's happy, far as I'm concerned.” The songs on Manual Manic Procedures are not safe for work – perhaps unsafe most anywhere. But that’s its dark charm in a world where even heavy music can play it too safely. 200 Stab Wounds have crafted Manual Manic Procedures for themselves and like-minded brethren: thrill-seekers, carnage cravers, horror fans, and aficionados of the most extreme metal. Above all, 200SW created a future death metal classic.

Cleveland death metal legends-in-waiting 200 Stab Wounds have returned with Manual Manic Procedures, a superlative sophomore effort that follows 2021’s Slave to the Scalpel, their tour de force debut. The new album is a brutal slab of old school death metal with a contemporary edge. Not for the faint-hearted, Manual Manic Procedures may well be the album that puts classic gore-themed ferocity back into the metal community’s collective consciousness. The band's debut, "Slave to the Scalpel" saw 200 Stab Wounds insinuate themselves into the minds of extreme metal fans, leading to praise from Pitchfork for their “unpretentious brilliance, pitch-black sense of humor” and an “aesthetic that’s built around a chugging, groovy riff that stomps down a path of destruction.” Manual Manic Procedures sees the band upping the ante both musically and lyrically. Ultimately, for 200 Stab Wounds, it’s all about creating art that they enjoy. “I know that if we like it, our fans will like it,” says Buhl. “That's really all that matters to us. And if we keep touring, it's just gonna get bigger and bigger. Then everyone's happy, far as I'm concerned.” The songs on Manual Manic Procedures are not safe for work – perhaps unsafe most anywhere. But that’s its dark charm in a world where even heavy music can play it too safely. 200 Stab Wounds have crafted Manual Manic Procedures for themselves and like-minded brethren: thrill-seekers, carnage cravers, horror fans, and aficionados of the most extreme metal. Above all, 200SW created a future death metal classic.

On her sophomore album "Germ in a Population of Buildings", upsammy moves through her surroundings with the curiosity of a place-bending landscape architect. The album is rooted in her interest for ambiguous environments in constant shift, and the feeling of discovering strange patterns in different ecosystems. Often, the Amsterdam-based artist finds herself zooming in and out beyond a place's most recognizable surface features to inhabit the microscopic and gigantic. Gathering field recordings and evocative environmental sounds, she shapes this source material into vibrating electro-acoustic rhythms and unstable, psychedelic textures. upsammy's debut album, 2020's critically-acclaimed "Zoom", was praised for its careful reimagining of IDM, evolving vignettes that nodded towards the dancefloor without being shackled to its rigid set of rules. On "Germ in a Population of Buildings" her process has evolved considerably; the skeletal trace of IDM is still present but it's been trapped in amber, allowing her unique sonic landscape to develop organically. 'Being is a Stone' is a proof of concept in many ways, layering upsammy's contorted voice in rickety patterns beneath a lattice of fragile rhythms and faintly melancholy synths. It's never immediately obvious where the sounds are coming from - a hiccuping beat might be glass cracking underfoot, and larger pulses could be wet concrete, rusted iron or bent plastic. As the sounds develop they morph into each other, demolishing what came before and building on top of the ornamental wreckage. On the dynamic 'Constructing', upsammy's sound design fluxes through hyperactive bass music structures, abstracting expectations at every turn. Often her sounds are whisper quiet, rattling and vibrating until heavier masonry drops and disrupts the structure. And when discernible rhythms subside into the background, like on the album's eerie title track, they become almost illusory, morphing between the real world and the electronic. upsammy's processed voice works like a bridge between these realms, snaking between stark, whimsical melodies on 'Patterning', arching from AutoTuned detachment into cooing, dreamy intimacy. By considering the harmonies between each location she's visited, upsammy has been able to build a unique topology that's an uncanny digital amalgam of her lived experience. It's a thoughtful alternative in an era more concerned with flatting the landscape than crumpling it and examining its peaks and troughs.

The lost soundtrack to "Chess of the Wind," Iran's banned 1976 queer-gothic-class-horror masterpiece, restored by the director and released for the first time. Not for the faint of heart!

Folly Group become the first band on Ninja Tune imprint Technicolour
(Elkka, Sofia Kourtesis, VTSS) with their new EP ‘Human and Kind’.

The four-piece of Sean Harper, Louis Milburn, Kai Akinde-Hummel and Tom Doherty formed in the tumultuous melting-pot of the London musical circuit. They released their debut EP ‘Awake and Hungry’ last year, receiving wide acclaim for their electronic infused post-punk sound and furiously brilliant live shows, landing coveted slots at Pitchfork Music Festival, in NME’s 100 Artists On The Rise and a co-sign from IDLES’ singer Joe Talbot.

Speaking about the EP, Folly Group said: “Where ‘Awake and Hungry’
doubled as a diary of the band’s formative months and encapsulation of our live show, ‘Human and Kind’ is a projection of our ambition, and our desire to push ourselves through what we might previously have
perceived as the ceiling of possibility for four players.”

For fans of Black Country, New Road, Squid, Yard Act, Black Midi, Dry Cleaning, Shame, Do Nothing.
140g crystal clear vinyl in 12” sleeve with spine and printed inner, plus
digital download code. Pressed sustainably within a 99% circular
environment at Deepgrooves.

“Every track is so good. They haven’t released anything that isn’t
amazing.” - Joe Talbot (IDLES, speaking on BBC 6 Music)
“thriving in well-crafted chaos.” - NME
“brilliant, experimental jungle rock” - i
“Give me that post-punk syncopation any day of the week” - Lauren
Laverne, who has made the band’s last three singles (including ‘I Raise You…’) her While You Were Sleeping Track Of The Day.
Headline UK Tour starting 31 March, taking in London, Bristol,
Manchester, Leeds, Birmingham, Nottingham, Margate, Newcastle,
Southampton, Milton Keynes and more.

The explorer Walter Maioli makes his most amazing adventure, the journey to the center of the Earth. Retracing the exploits of the Platonic demiurge, he identifies in the cave the deepest meaning of myth. Primordial sounds, not shadows, are at the center of this magical path straddling geology and Paleolithic polyphony. The recordings between 1985 and 2002 capture the sonic imperceptibility of the great subterranean womb, investigate the secret dialogue between the trickling of pond waters and the faint percussive reverberation of stalactites and stalagtites. Rocky sediments are played as tubular organs, glockenspiels, xylophones or stone marimbas. Crystalline timbral variations and subtle microtonal passages recall the chimes of Tibetan gongs and bells, of the scales of Java and Bali. Amidst muffled pauses and silences, trills and rings, echoes and tremolos, hisses and pops of vibration, Maioli builds his most imaginative niche of sound, a magnetic and telluric chant that is pure symphony and archetypal synaesthesia. Co-produced with Holidays Records.

NAKID presents the first album in years from Max Loderbauer (Sun Electric) and Tobias Freund’s cult Non Standard Institute. Delving deep into the aether with a double LP - almost an hour and a half in length - featuring ruined, vaporous and engrossing ambient variations on a theme.

Planing axes between iridescent new age ambient, sublime folk and avant-classical, to miasmic drone and plangent shoegaze; ‘A Day or Two’ charts the Non Standard Institute’s first actions in 6 years and serves as a compelling reminder of their intuitive work in abundance. Expanding and contracting their sound across 18 parts, they arc from heaving, oddly-tuned drones to smoggy, surreal soundscapes, bringing a wealth of fine-tuned instincts to the table. With Max Loderbauer’s 35+ years as Berlin ambient pioneer with Sun Electric, jams with Villalobos, and roles in Vladislav Delay Quintet and the Moritz von Oswald Trio, he’s matched by Freund’s 40 years of deep engineering expertise embedded in the experimental industrial and techno trenches.

The melancholy, Satie-laced piano meditations that grounded 2018's '5863' are gone, and the human touch that's been present since their very first collaborations is placed under the microscope, enhanced by their use of the Haken Continuum Fingerboard, a gestural synth that was developed to open up new modes of playing. Loderbauer's experience with the piano helps him make the most of the instrument's touch-sensitive 3D surface, while Freund uses two multi-channel loopers, piping the sounds through his arsenal of pedals.

The 18 tracks are billed as "unplanned atmospheres" that arc from sombre, drone-heavy material to humid, tape-saturated imaginary-island jams such as 'Listening To Cells' and 'Are You One Of Them'. On the latter, the duo work patiently, letting dusted string plucks tumble across each other while warbling pads hum below, bending like flutes. On 'Unlikely Events', anxious didgeridoo-like wails are ruptured by environmental rattles, before ominous voices lead us into a pocket of industrialised resonance. In time, the skies open up and the sounds morph into pastoral song, the drone blurring into hopeful pads almost as lucid and eloquent as AFX's 'SAW Vol. II', with sonorous synths that float over formless strings. Reflective, cinematic arrangements for flute and silvery ambient give way to diffusions of denser, resonant polychromatics and pucker up in outernational, alien ambient impulses recalling Connor Camburn jamming with dirashe folk pipes.