Suche:move d drone

LIMITED 300 ONLY CRYSTAL CLEAR VINYL WITH PURPLE BLOB AND BLACK SPLATTER. HOUSED IN FULL COLOUR MATT SLEEVE WITH POLYLINED INNER BAG AND DOWNLOAD CODE. NON-RETURNABLE.
Following his two sold out releases ‘Vertigo’ & ‘Water Music’ on Riot Season last year, the ever prolific Ivan The Tolerable returns with ‘An Orphan Form’
A beautifully strange and immersive suite that feels both otherworldly and rooted in something organic. Drawing on kosmische drift, loose-limbed jazz, and warped psychedelic textures, the record moves like a half-remembered dream.
Field recordings and nature sounds weave in and out, grounding the swirling synths and off-kilter rhythms in real earth and air. It's a record that doesn’t follow a straight line, but instead wanders, curious, alive, and quietly spellbinding.
Recorded in winter 2024 in Middlesbrough, UK and Utrecht, Netherlands
Oli Heffernan: bass/guitars/synths/drones/field recordings/electric piano
Mees Siderius: drums/percussion/vibraphone
Elsa Van Der Linden: saxophones/flutes

The Ottawa composer/performer and head of Black Bough Records plays every instrument on his CST debut: an accessibly avant-garde work of dark/ambient modern chamber music. Mark Molnar has been a linchpin of the Ottawa experimental music scene for over two decades, spanning contemporary classical, electroacoustic, industrial/noise, and improv. As a string player in a wide range of projects, an organizer and curator of innumerable shows, and via his own avantgarde label Black Bough Records, Molnar's unflagging contributions to independent music culture in Canada's capital city have been significant. EXO is his Constellation debut: a remarkable and bracing suite of post-classical composition on which Molnar plays every instrument. Meticulously self-recorded, primarily with strings, harp, and piano, EXO balances thematic melodicism, polytonality, and dissonance across three elegiac pieces of exquisitely expressive dynamism. This is exacting modern chamber music that blends formal and harmonic complexity with a solemn emotive sensibility accessible to a broad audience. Listeners that yearn for some edge and disquietude in a landscape of often all-too-approachable post-classical music should find EXO eminently worth their time and attention. While Molnar is a highly trained string player, and studied music under Aubrey Wolfe, microtonality with James Tenney, and composition with R. Murray Schafer, his trajectory has been entirely and intentionally outside the academy, signalling a socio-artistic commitment to DIY culture, forged from an early passion for the sonic worlds of post-hardcore, post-punk, no-wave, free improv, power electronics, and other independent/underground musics. His classically-informed works have been described as "tense currents of musical modernism invigorated with punk's raw vitality." EXO carries an undercurrent influenced by dark industrial and ambient metal in particular, with microphones purposely placed to pick up the low-end frequencies of the piano body, and of a bass drum positioned as a resonant skin in the acoustic space; an electroacoustic strategy organically meshed to the crisply defined and pristinely recorded pointillisms and polychords of strings, harp, and piano, which feed into this noisefloor of crepuscular sub-bass disquietude and decay. It's a production aesthetic that lends EXO a distinct undertow of tension and feeling, a sort of roiling maximalism where the chamber instrumentation traces arcs and waves of form and flow as if drawn from a dark, impervious ocean below. It also reinforces the profound hermeticism of Molnar's process, as a forbiddingly solitary creative act of immersion and navigation. The album artwork, featuring semiabstract stills of the sea by British photographer Ed Allen, further reifies this metaphor. The album's opening piece 'Sub Luna' (and its shortest at 8 minutes) showcases Molnar's adeptness at naturalistic and flowing complexity: tight cascades of climbing and descending chordal clusters hold their polytonal densities for various durations, yielding to more clarified harmonic suspensions and motifs, as melodic themes led primarily by violins in the higher registers provide a fractured lyricism. Molnar says: "the opening and closing figures of this piece act as opposing shorelines; the shorelines provide a reliable expression of range and key signature, and the tides come in and swallow them up, the motion of a body that addresses the relationship between states of lucidity and melodic figures." On 'Terre Sacer' everything happens in soupier waters, as a slow and doleful theme, anchored by grinding bass notes, circles in a gyre of dark resonances, until glistening strings gradually ascend to enrobe a plaintive and gently harrowing single-voiced ostinato over the composition's final third. Molnar's drone, ambient, minimalist, and goth-industrial influences are on display here. Side Two of EXO features the 18-minute multi-movement 'pallida Mors' (pale death): a waterfall of heterophony introduces dense chordal movements where strings are recorded and mixed to evoke pipe organ, in the album's most overtly dissonant and (anti)liturgical sequence. This gives way to ever more open and fragile spaces, before a resurgence of dark clusters and noise treatments introduces a final repeating piano coda, shrouded in devastated bass resonance, settling into what Molnar calls "a meditative hollow." Constellation is honoured to release this work by Mark Molnar, a longtime fellow-traveler whose selfless and boundlessly generous activities as an independent arts enabler sometimes obscure his own accomplished and uncompromising artistry. We trust EXO can help shed some much deserved light on this fine composer. Thanks for listening.

Corrosiv, the sophomore album from Orchestroll, reveals the duo at their most mature and vulnerable. Originally conceived as a reflection on hybridity and bastardization, the album deploys New Age and ambient compositional tropes as a launchpad, exposing their trite sanctity to the realities of corrosion. Having come of age in the 1970s and 1980s, the New Age movement perdures today as a domain of contradictions; its promise of transcendence riddled with the very commercialized dogma from which its adherents claim to flee. Healing modalities such as reiki, crystal therapy, and sound baths are simultaneously pathways to solace and sites of exploitation; their sonic counterparts—ethereal synth pads, shimmering textures, celestial drones—claim to facilitate meditation and enlightenment while devolving into empty signifiers of vitality. With Corrosiv, Orchestroll displays neither reverence nor disdain toward New Age: they exhume it instead, revealing the saccharine effervescence and commodified murk undergirding its aesthetics. The result is intoxicating—disquieting.

Born from a two-week residency at EMS Studios and expanded through a performance at MUTEK Montreal’s 25th anniversary, Corrosiv has since outgrown its original conceptual nucleus, taking on a broader scope. Its inquiry into New Age ideology’s voided rhetoric and aesthetic mysticism now informs a broader interrogation of cultural mediocrity, anti-authoritarianism, gatekeeping, music industry toxicity, and the crumbling edifice of late capitalism and techno-feudalism—all the mechanisms by which meaning is stripped from ceremony, and once-potent forms of knowledge are subsumed into the machinery of economic extraction, severed from their original essence, and transformed into hollow simulacra. Corrosiv distills these themes through a loose narrative: a soul, fixated on wellness as dictated by cosmetic economism, becomes ensnared in an endless afterlife, unable to transcend and shed its dilapidated consciousness.

Framed as an act of audio dissolution, the album thus engages in an alchemical process, whereby complex waveshaping, morphing synthesis, and distortion enact a ritual of fragmentation. There is also friction: between the rigid, mechanical imposition of systematized order and the untamed, chaotic force of organic metamorphosis. Here corrosion and confinement are not solely conceptual motifs; they are enacted in real time, sculpting the album’s terrain. Scraping, tarnishing, degradation—the languid wear of form and substance—become instruments in their own right: buffing as abrasion, entrapment as transformation, corrosion as a means of reconfiguration. The ‘protagonist,’ if there must be one, is the listener, caught within the throes of structural determinism and the potential for emancipation, unable to pass into something greater as the specters of collapsed futures accumulate in the margins.

Corrosiv extends its reach through collaborations with familiar voices: Heith (PAN), VISIO (Haunter), Femminielli (Drowned by Locals), Habib Bardi (Interzone), and Jiyoung Wi (Enmossed, Psychic Liberation, Doyenne) each leave their imprint on its sprawling landscape. At 1h16m, it is a procession, dense with earworms that burrow into the listener’s unconscious.

Misshapen, broken-down metals leach copper into blood, acid reflux burning through the core. Psyche disaggregates into cosmic turmoil, drifting between planes—tongue on rustline, gullet laced with solvent hymns, molars unlatching, bitcrushed to marrowspill. A spasm of brine, ferrous scripture, venomtext blooming in leaden rivulets, cartilage smoldering in phosphor decomposition, synapses drowning in a quicksilver choir. Crest of bile, churning ore, breath clotting into arsenic mist, vein-thread cinched, a corrosive gospel, limb by limb, oxidized to silence.

Ultimately, as the music exhales its final breath, its residue refuses to dissipate—and stillness alone remains. There are no conclusions here—no resolution, no collapse—only the slow drift outward of a vessel unmoored, lost in the sea of symbolic souring. Corrosiv sings the song of a world barren of prophecy, littered with aesthetic detritus. Whether this magic has been transfigured or simply worn away is unclear: the last breath dissipates, but the oxidation does not stop. The silence, too, will decay.

Conceptualized, composed, performed, recorded, mixed, engineered and produced by Jesse Osborne-Lanthier, and Asaël Richard-Robitaille in 2023 and 2024 at Elektron Musik Studion (EMS) - Stockholm, Sweden and Landsc8pe Studio - Montréal, QC, Canada.
Artwork by Jesse Osborne-Lanthier.
Mastered by Stephan Mathieu @ Schwebung Mastering.

WOW. Daniel O'Sullivan's transcendent new album, Eros, is one of the greatest things we've ever heard. A simply stunning song cycle of hypnotic, experimental contemporary chamber music composed for a 14-piece ensemble. Combining minimalism, complex syncopation, detailed acoustic textures, weird intervals and samurai precision, this record will elegantly blow your mind. When Daniel first sent us this, he pitched it as “Liquid Swords meets Michael Nyman”. Trust us, he wasn't wrong. A "unique hybrid orchestral music", it presents a confluence of Daniel's longstanding fixations; indeed, there's elements of Nyman, Antonio Carlos Jobim, Magma, Aaron Copland and RZA. But this is wholly O'Sullivan's. Originally commissioned for the Sonoton Music Library in Munich, Eros now receives a deluxe vinyl release courtesy of Be With Records, bringing this meticulously crafted work to a wider audience. Limited to just 500 copies for the world, these are gonna fly.

An English composer and multi-instrumentalist, Daniel O'Sullivan’s career has been marked by versatility and innovation. In addition to his work with Sonoton, he has composed extensively for the legendary KPM music library, contributing to its storied legacy of production music. As a deep virtuoso and collaborator, O'Sullivan has also played in a number of influential projects, including Ulver, Sunn O))), This Is Not This Heat, Grumbling Fur and Miracle (with Steve Moore), leaving an indelible mark on the contemporary experimental music landscape.

O’Sullivan’s first foray into classically informed chamber music, Eros is a culmination of his long-standing fixations and expansive musical influences. The album features arrangements that are as detailed as they are emotionally resonant, showcasing his unparalleled ear for intervals and mastery of counterpoint. The music brims with complex rhythmic syncopation and a sensitivity to texture and space, resulting in a soundscape that is both intoxicating and dauntingly precise.

Recorded June 2023 and February 2024, in Brussels, London and Carmarthenshire, Wales, Eros features members of Echo Collective (Neil Leiter and Margaret Hermant), Thighpaulsandra (from seminal post-industrial band Coil), and jazz pioneer Oren Marshall. Daniel's sonic weapons of choice, in his own inimitable words, were "Big Bad Drum, Pee Anne Oh, Low End Brass, Willowy Winds & Samurai Strings." You get the picture. As a cyclical suite, this is a record that really needs to be heard in its entitreity, from start to finish, to truly appreciate the genius at work here.

A jaw-dropping statement of intent, the minimalist "Golden Verses" sets the tone with its complex cue which has your neck snapping right when it feels like it needs to. Listen and you'll understand. A syncopated tangle of sharp strings, crunchy bass, drums percussion and bright piano and mallets vie for position with French horn and woodwind melody in the most compelling and unexpected ways. Quite simply, it's one of the finest album openers I've ever heard. It's followed by the atmospheric rippling minimalism of "Lyre Lyre", a gorgeous gem with shimmering chimes, bright melody, human percussion and syncopated pizzicato strings. It kinda comes on like a less-abstract Boards Of Canada, bursting with typical wonderment. The piano and string-drenched "Dolorous Stroke" effortlessly builds its warm, pastoral orchestration with flowing piano arpeggio, steadfast drums, expressive string quartet, rich low brass, woodwind and lyrical flute. Just sublime.

The insistent frenetic propulsion of "Plain Paper" is utterly beguiling, featuring a determined string motif, urgent drums and percussion, driving low brass and breathless, energetic flute. The haunting, interweaving string arpeggios that propel "Grapes Draped" presents a claustrophobic minimalism for chaos and darkness, with growling low woodwind and brass, spiky harpsichord, skittering flutes and tight drums. Up next, "Xanix Annum" is a stately minimalist waltz with expressive lyrical string quartet and delicate woodwind, anchored by drums and percussion. "Painting Rose" is a bouncy stop-start track with angular syncopated strings and a piano pulse underneath bright harpsichord and flutes. "Rotunda Garden" presents ethereal textural minimalism for landscapes and reflection with flowing string arpeggios, warm, low woodwind drones, floating choir and cymbal swells. Closing out this extraordinary side of music, the glowing, flowing minimalism of "Flowry Orb" features urgent organ, piano and woodwind arpeggios, half-time drums with shimmering cymbals, a soaring, beautiful violin solo and hypnotic vocal chant.

Side 2 opens with "Theia Mania" a determinedly off-kilter, angular track featuring low wind, brass and drum stomp in dialogue with lively string trio, woodwind and solo horn. The light, airy minimalism of "Painting Percy" is built around an interplay of rhythmic motifs for piano, low brass, bassoon, fluttering flutes, urgent strings, drums and percussion whilst "For Archetypes" is a delicate, gently syncopated chamber cue for nostalgia, nature, reflection and moments of calm, with steady piano motif, intimate woodwind and French horn, and warm, graceful strings. The urgent Ars Memoriae is a propulsive march for progress, processes and industry, underpinned by driving tuba, with determined strings, resolute drums, and vivid, expressive flute, clarinet and French horn.

The syncopated energetic minimalism of "Mirrored Seven" presents layers of melodic and cyclical piano, drums, low brass, harp, flute and strings. "Pure Ornament" follows, a slowly evolving chamber cue with flowing clarinet, string and harp arpeggio, plodding tuba and percussion, fluttering flute and graceful, lyrical solos. Stunning! Up next, "Brave Boy" moves from its tender, warm, lullaby-like intro with lyrical flute, clarinet and strings before opening into a playful backend driven by a bouncy tuba riff and syncopated piano, woodwind, string trio, and drums and percussion. Rounding out this astonishing piece, "Waxen Waned" is a warm, pastoral chamber cue with light lyrical woodwind, tender French horn and subtly pulsing string trio.

The album's title is a reference to Plato’s conception of Eros, which is more than romantic or physical desire. It is a dynamic and creative force that drives individuals to seek perfection whether in art, relationships, philosophy or the pursuit of truth. Wholly appropriate, here, we think. When asked what his influences were in making this astounding record, he answered thusly: "Non-musical: Householding, Pythagoras, Goethe, Grail romances, Hermeticism, Doctrine of Signatures (Parcelsus, Bohme, Pliny), Eric Rohmer, John Stezaker, Yasujiro Ozu. Musical: Duke Ellington (late suites), Smile-era Brian, early RZA, Wagner (Parsifal Overture), Magma, Mancini, Axelrod, YMO, Hildegard, Nyman, Penguin Cafe Orchestra, Jobim (Stone Flower), Alessandro Alessandroni, Tavener, Moondog, Orthodox Music, Secular Music." That's some pretty deep shit. Makes you want to dive in, no?

Mastering for this vinyl edition was overseen by Be With regular Simon Francis, and it was cut by the esteemed Cicely Balston at Abbey Road Studios to be pressed in the Netherlands by Record Industry. Truly, Eros is a work of extraordinary depth and sophistication. It invites listeners to immerse themselves in its intricate layers, to lose themselves in its hypnotic rhythms, and to marvel at the precision of its execution. With this release, O’Sullivan reaffirms his position as one of the most inventive and uncompromising voices in contemporary music. Do. Not. Sleep.

Lael Neale's minimalist drone pop draws inspiration from the Transcendentalists, the alienation of modern life, and a rich array of musical influences-ranging from Dionne Warwick and John Lennon to primitive American gospel and Spacemen 3. Her expansive new record, Altogether Stranger, due May 2, was written and recorded in the early morning quiet of Los Angeles. Clocking in at just 32 minutes, the 9-song LP covers an unexpected breadth of musical and lyrical terrain-from garage rock nursery rhymes and creation myths to Motorik dance dirges and solitary Omnichord meditations. A brilliant lyricist, Neale has a unique ability to uncover the extraordinary within the mundane, tackling themes of polarity that recur throughout her work-country vs. city, humanity vs. technology, isolation vs. society. This album is her third collaboration with producer Guy Blakeslee who helps expand the tonal palette while staying true to Neale's commitment to the raw immediacy and hand-made intimacy of home recording. Altogether Stranger - a stunning album filled with dreamlike reverie, Neale's crystalline voice, and echoes of the Velvet Underground - was conceived after four years of oscillating between rural solitude and urban chaos. It finds Neale perched at the piano in a hilltop bungalow, looking down on a rare curve of Sunset Blvd. Here, in this daily ritual of writing, singing, and painting-what David Lynch referred to as "the Art Life"-she creates the space for her most adventurous work to date. Born and raised in Virginia's idyllic countryside, Neale brought the high-lonesome sound of her home state with her when she moved to California to pursue music. After years of writing songs on guitar and playing small venues in Los Angeles, she discovered the Omnichord in 2019, which sparked a new creative direction. This led to her 2021 Sub Pop debut album, Acquainted With Night. That album's 2023 follow-up, Star Eaters Delight, deepened the collaboration with Blakeslee, infusing minimalist soundscapes with a heightened electric energy. The album found a devoted audience, and Neale's subsequent tour included sold-out shows in Los Angeles, New York City, London, and Paris, multiple trips across Europe, and a West Coast run supporting kindred spirit Weyes Blood. This marked yet another return to Los Angeles. Indeed, Los Angeles is not just the backdrop of Altogether Stranger but a lead character. The album's accompanying film - created with Neale's faithful Sony Handycam - builds on her ongoing series of videos, telling the story of Neale as an alien in a suit of mirrors stranded on Earth. Wandering through modern-day LA, she finds both absurdity and beauty in our fragile, untenable way of life. Over the long year it took to write Altogether Stranger, Neale vacillated between childlike optimism and existential melancholy. While she may not have been able to reconcile these opposing states, Altogether Stranger represents an ambitious breakthrough for this singular, self-sufficient artist.

Norman Westberg (guitar), Giridhar Udupa (ghatam, konnakol, khanjira, percussion) and Jacek Mazurkiewicz (double bass, electronics)An extraordinary meeting of three artists from three different musical worlds and three different continents. Norman Westberg (ex-Swans) and Jacek Mazurkiewicz have already released one album together "First Man In The Moon" in 2021 (published by the Swiss label Hallow Ground).In the new project, they are accompanied by Giridhar Udupa, an Indian master of ghatam (a clay percussion instrument that looks like a jug). The album will feature 3 long trance compositions, referring to ambient, krautrock, free jazz and Indian music.Jacek Mazurkiewicz describes the creation of this album as follows:"I met Norman Westberg while supporting the Swans tour in Poland as 3FoNIA. A few years later, during Norman's tour with Gira, we recorded a duet.The trio session took place similarly to the previous duet session during Norman's solo concert in Warsaw on the Swans tour.Recorded with Adam Toczko, a quick meeting on a day off from work.I invited Giridhar Udupa to the trio, whom I had met earlier during the period when I co-founded the band Limboski. I once invited Wacek Zimpel to play a few concerts with Giridhar. Wacek later created Saagara and I was wondering about some unusual musical context in which I would find myself with Giridhar. I was looking for an interesting sound configuration, but also a cultural one, with a different approach to creating music. I got the impression that for both Norman and Giridhar it was a fairly fresh meeting, not obvious. And on the other hand, ordinary - everyone did their own thing."Detroit guitarist Norman Westberg moved to New York in 1980 and became a part of the experimental music scene that was experiencing its golden age. Westberg himself became a permanent fixture when he joined the iconic avant-rock band Swans in 1983, and was the only member other than frontman Michael Gira to play with them for most of the band's run, both until their 1997 disbandment and his return in 2010. Westberg has also been involved with other legendary New York noise-rock acts, including Jim Thirlwell's Foetus and the post-Swans Heroine Sheiks, in which he played with Cows frontman Shannon Selberg; and in 2014, he joined the noise-rock supergroup Hidden Rifles, whose members included Mike Watt of Minutemen and Mark Shippy of U.S. Maple. Westberg's solo compositions, most often for solo guitar and a set of effects, draw on drone and post-minimalism, bringing to mind dark ambient passages from Swans albums.Giridhar Udupa is an extremely valued teacher and world-renowned artist, an Indian master of ghatam (a clay percussion instrument that looks like a jug). He was born into a family with long musical traditions. He began learning to play at the age of four, guided by his father. At the age of twelve, he already had his first performances behind him. He currently gives concerts alongside the greatest masters. He has received many prestigious awards. He performs in the USA, Spain, Canada, France, Switzerland, Germany, Oman and Kuwait. Giridhar Udupa is a member of the band of the Indian vocalist Bombay Jayashri, nominated for an Oscar for the best song for the film Life of Pi. He is one of the founders of the Layatharanga band. He also plays virtuoso other traditional instruments of South India, such as mridangam and kanjira, and is excellent at using the konnakol technique (a type of rhythmic vocalization).For three decades, the artist has been a global ambassador and icon of Carnatic music. He is the founder of The Udupa Foundation, a charity organization established in 2015 to promote Indian music, performing arts and culture. He has participated in recording dozens of albums. He is also well-known in our country thanks to his cooperation with Polish performers, which resulted in excellent artistic effects, such as the famous Indialucia - Michał Czachowski's group / project or the Saagara formation, led by Wacław Zimpel. Udupa also played on the album Lechoechoplexita, released by Leszek Hefi Wiśniewski, and on the album of the band Layatharanga, released in our country.Jacek Mazurkiewicz is interested in music in the broad sense. He puts his sounds together based on emotional impressions and pulse. Combining acoustics with electronics, he is constantly looking for a new sound. Solo as 3FoNIA, in a duet with Mikołaj Trzaska or Tomek Dąbrowski, the JMB trio with Wojtek Jachna and Jacek Buhl, in the Modular String Trio quartet, the Afrobeat quintet Faso Tamala are just some of his musical incarnations. With Patryk Zakrocki, as part of an audio mission, he massaged hundreds of pairs of ears in the Inner Ear Massage Office. He also deals with sound design, composing and producing music for films and theatre performances. He collaborated with many Polish and foreign artists.

On April 4th, Brighton-based Australian vocalist, producer, and multi-instrumentalist Penelope Trappes will release her fifth full-length album ‘A Requiem’. It comes alongside news of her signing to London imprint, One Little Independent Records. ‘A Requiem’ collects ten haunting, ambient soundscapes - incantations of dreams and nightmares, of death and grief, as well as power and autonomy. Carnal, transcendent cello drones are used to exorcise historical and generational traumas in an evocative and macabre piece of gothic experimentalism.

Seeking solitude for what she knew would be an intense and cathartic writing experience, Trappes travelled to Scotland and isolated completely. Amidst meditative and psychedelic states, she channeled demons and accessed parts of herself she’d long desired to cleanse. During candle-lit recording sessions she found herself drawn to cello, an instrument she has no formal training in, she explains, “I always felt an affinity toward the cello, I embraced it, held it, and became one with it as a way to accompany my voice. The nerve-like strings of the cello became external chords of my vocal folds… I scratched on them, leaned into them, and conjured all of the textures I could muster”.

‘A Requiem’ is a musical service in honour of the dead, a sanctuary Trappes built for herself to explore familial chaos and history. “I was looking for an equilibrium between a ‘heaven' and a ‘hell’” she explains, “screaming out to the wisdom of our foremothers - surfacing and leading me into true strength and beauty. I listened to the sorrow closely. Death is a part of our reality. Inevitable. Omnipresent. But nightmares can be beautiful”.

She continues, “This album is my personal requiem for my parents, my ties to the land where I was born, along with all of my epigenetically connected ancestors before them. The songs helped me summon up the strength to move through my own awareness of mortality, death, and impending loss. This album is a living funeral. It’s a ceremonial collection of music. It’s an externalising of the power and strength to fight the generations of abuse and darkness that my parents self-admittedly played out in their parenting and to keep it away from my own social patterns and my psyche. It’s not an uncommon thing in the world and this lamented warcry goes out to everyone to help exorcise patriarchal, political, and religious systems of abuses of power”.

As a founding member of Dublin experimental folk group Lankum, Ian Lynch explores submerged leylines of music and song. Forging a musical path that is all at once dark, mysterious and foreboding, but ultimately transcendental. His new solo project One Leg One Eye sees him taking a fresh approach to musical arrangement culminating in a sound that is more rooted in the raw aesthetics of second wave black metal than contemporary folk. The project was born across 2021, a period in which Lynch was able to enjoy the freedom of experimenting and exploring different paths of sound design without expectation or pressure. Seeking out interesting settings to record music and gather field recordings, there are several environments, external and interior, whose respective essence have seeped into the spirit of the music and come to represent Lynch’s artistic approach and development with this singular debut album, …And Take The Black Worm With Me. Rediscovered spaces in Dublin and the familiar enclave of his bedroom are intrinsic to the distinct and sometimes harrowing atmosphere conjured throughout the album’s five enveloping compositions. One particular location, an abandoned factory where his father worked when Ian was a child, provided a space of great inspiration and intrigue during this time. Lynch frequently visited the large abandoned warehouse and sang with his shruti box, contented in his solitude. ‘I’d Rather Be Tending My Sheep’, grew into existence from those initial sessions, eventually finding a home as an emotive centrepiece to the album. Reflecting on the overall recording of …And Take The Black Worm With Me, Lynch says, “Everything I was doing with these songs was all kind of new to me; experimenting with different sounds, textures and palettes and seeing what I could come up with by piecing it all together. I spent about a year making the album. I loved the whole process because it was basically just me in my bedroom recording everything. The experience of recording like this and having my own time to do it was amazing. I could focus on recording a specific element and happily spend all day working on that one part, doing it as many times as I wanted. At the end of the day if it didn’t feel right, I could just try it again the next day. When you’re on your own you can spend as much time as you want on particular parts until you feel that it’s absolutely perfect. I found that to be a really liberating experience. It was probably my favourite experience recording music.” The collection of songs (and their chronology) featured on …And Take The Black Worm With Me tell a story unique to Lynch’s experiences with anxiety and recognising his shadow self. Whilst the album became an outlet of personal expression for Lynch, the overarching themes and subsequent journey to confront one’s internal dichotomy of light and dark before accepting this inherent duality is universally shared. The eerie and often unsettling world contained within the album’s texturally dense opener ‘Glistening, She Emerges’, driven by the captivating drone of distorted uilleann pipes, immediately immerses the listener in this transportive work. It descends with a great heaviness, yet woven throughout the arrangement is a fascinating and indescribable entity that draws you further into this otherworldly dimension. This mood continues as the tracklist progresses and transitions into Lynch’s haunting realisation of ‘Bold and Undaunted Youth’ which further demonstrates a cinematic influence to Lynch’s compositional style. Sonically, Lynch effectively builds an impressively vast terrain with brilliantly murky lo-fi recording techniques and an unshakable curiosity to move beyond conventional structures and play with the timbre of the instruments available to him. From recording hurdy-gurdy or concertina to tape and experimenting with loops and effects pedals to stitching field recordings together, there’s an intimacy established between Lynch and his audience established through the simultaneously eerie and beautiful tones courting through …And Take The Black Worm With Me. This culminates in ‘Only the Diceys’, the extraordinary closing track in which we reach a place of resolution mapped into the album’s narrative structure. Mixed by longtime collaborator John ‘Spud’ Murphy in his Dublin-based Guerrilla Sounds Studio and mastered by Harvey Birrell …And Take The Black Worm With Me features contributions from Ruth Clinton (Landless) on church organ and vocals by Laurie Shanaman (Ails, Ludicra). Of Shanaman’s participation, in particular, which further illustrates the lo-fi and DIY ethos to the recording, Lynch says, “Laurie is my favourite black metal vocalist of all time and so I reached out to her hoping to have her involved in some way. She did, and she features on the opening track by providing some incredible screams. She recorded them into her phone and sent them over to me; what appears on the album is literally a phone recording of her screaming in her kitchen!” …And Take The Black Worm With Me continues Ian Lynch’s groundbreaking work with Lankum; recontextualising traditional forms and generating new spheres of music in his wake, confirming his status as one of the most interesting and innovative artists working in Ireland today.

Valuable vinyl reissue for this historic four-handed work by Gigi Masin and Giuseppe Caprioli. The concept of multitude combined with the figure/symbol of the labyrinth suggests orders of thought relating to the multiple states of being that inhabit the dark labyrinths of the soul, the hidden regions of the human psyche. All in Multitude In Labyrinth leads us to look for keys to understanding the ultimate meaning of a test as enigmatic as it is powerful. A congeries of paramusical phenomena in continuous evolution, expression of an internal feeling strongly concentrated on itself, disguised in the plastic flow of sound events that evolve on the gravitational maps of low-frequency drones, of the changing waveforms and of the elliptical-circular loops warped with scientific skill in the electronic workshop used for this purpose. A cinematic symphony in nine movements that direct the listening towards the frontiers of unexplored parallel worlds, ready to recreate the infinite maze of aural multitudes that materialize, dissolve and regenerate impulse after impulse for the duration of the work. Music whose remote echo makes us think of the harmony of the spheres that governs the mechanics of the cosmos and of being.

Wrekmeister Harmonies, the duo of JR Robinson and Esther Shaw, are sonic shape shifters with expansive ideas. From special performances to collaborations the band have worked with David Yow (Jesus Lizard) Ryley Walker, Ken Vandermark, Bruce Lamont, Mark Solotroff, Sanford Parker, Jamie Fennely (Mind Over Mirrors), The Body, Mary Lattimore, Olivia Block, Jamie Stewart (Xiu Xiu), Chris Brokaw, Fred Lonberg-Holm and Thor Harris (Swans). Inspired by artists such as Glenn Branca, Rhys Chatham, and Lou Reed, the duo approach each album as a new sonic adventure. Flowers in the Spring was born of deep, careful listening as much as composing. It explores music as a meditative practice with a focus on microtonal shifts and intersectional overtones. Robinson explains: "It"s the subtle movements within and without, the fine threads of sound, loud or quiet, interior or exterior that become valuable." Limiting himself to just four mixer channels on each piece; precisely layering guitar and electronics, intently listening and manipulating either the intensity or the duration of each loop to yield unexpected interactions, moments of beauty as well as dissonance. "Flowers in Spring" emerges from fizzing distortion, hewing monolithic slabs of drone from the rock face while electronics push through fissures. "Fuck the Pigs" uses layers of noise as it metaphorically shifts into the depths of winter, arctic winds howling while the guitar scars like frost across a windowpane. In contrast "A Shepherd Stares Into the Sun" is pure light and heat, overwhelming in its sheer celestial enormity. "Flowers Variation" was born of nature"s microscopic subterranean movements in its primordial gloom and buzzing synth pads. Each track holds multitudes of micro sonic details coming together to form the album"s expansive ecosystem.

Wrekmeister Harmonies, the duo of JR Robinson and Esther Shaw, are sonic shape shifters with expansive ideas. From special performances to collaborations the band have worked with David Yow (Jesus Lizard) Ryley Walker, Ken Vandermark, Bruce Lamont, Mark Solotroff, Sanford Parker, Jamie Fennely (Mind Over Mirrors), The Body, Mary Lattimore, Olivia Block, Jamie Stewart (Xiu Xiu), Chris Brokaw, Fred Lonberg-Holm and Thor Harris (Swans). Inspired by artists such as Glenn Branca, Rhys Chatham, and Lou Reed, the duo approach each album as a new sonic adventure. Flowers in the Spring was born of deep, careful listening as much as composing. It explores music as a meditative practice with a focus on microtonal shifts and intersectional overtones. Robinson explains: "It"s the subtle movements within and without, the fine threads of sound, loud or quiet, interior or exterior that become valuable." Limiting himself to just four mixer channels on each piece; precisely layering guitar and electronics, intently listening and manipulating either the intensity or the duration of each loop to yield unexpected interactions, moments of beauty as well as dissonance. "Flowers in Spring" emerges from fizzing distortion, hewing monolithic slabs of drone from the rock face while electronics push through fissures. "Fuck the Pigs" uses layers of noise as it metaphorically shifts into the depths of winter, arctic winds howling while the guitar scars like frost across a windowpane. In contrast "A Shepherd Stares Into the Sun" is pure light and heat, overwhelming in its sheer celestial enormity. "Flowers Variation" was born of nature"s microscopic subterranean movements in its primordial gloom and buzzing synth pads. Each track holds multitudes of micro sonic details coming together to form the album"s expansive ecosystem.

First vinyl edition of Carme López’ debut album of entrancing bagpipe arrangements. Unravelling forms of early music and funereal, queered droneworks full of strange tonalities, phased harmonics and curious subversions.

Carme López is a researcher and teacher of traditional Galician oral music, and ‘Quintela’ features her debut recordings for the Galician bagpipe, split into four longform movements totalling 40 minutes of supremely engrossing drone flourishes. Misunderstood by many, the bagpipe is here brought into the experimental realm as a form of decontextualisation, fashioning the instrument’s naturally peculiar timbres into soft, wavering tones.

Despite its unusual resonance, in López's hands the bagpipe almost becomes a pipe organ, producing long, swaying, sustained tones that highlight the instrument's complex timbral qualities. López plays with its breathy overtones, placing microphones on the bag itself to pick up residual sounds while she sculpts its squeals into cavernous siren calls, and then extracting half-rhythms from its reeds on the elegiac closer 'iv: CACHELOS. a César De Farbán'.

The instrument’s inherent wheezing and anomalous timbre lend the recordings a wavering foundation that feels designed to unsettle, but somehow becomes nothing short of entrancing through almost imperceptible harmonic shifts and odd tunings. It’s meditative music that requires active participation, focussed listening - so as to make sense of all the infinitesimal shifts and faults - in a way that feels unique to this most maligned, misunderstood, almost mystical instrument.

A special ‘Submerge” 12” EP featuring a bunch of reworks of this pivotal track from Apta's forthcoming ‘The Pool’ album on Castles in Space.

Kicking things off, Apta's own rework of the original sees the shadowy textures and droning wall-of-sound backdrop turned into a static-strewn dreamland of a piece, underpinned by a flickering guitar riff, cracked snare drums and fuzzed-out Odyssey strokes before launching into the euphoric half-time vocal refrain.

The follow-up sees Clay Pipe boss, illustrator and musician step into her Hardy Tree guise for a beautifully hypnotic waft of wistful folk-tinged electronics and shimmering ambient textures. It's warmly nostalgic, and packed full of all the feel of a lovely Clay Pipe release.

Following on from that, modular wizard Polypores takes pieces of the original and stretches them into an organic swell of texture and movement, warping the low basses and flickering modular plinks (and / or plonks) into a beautiful, undulating wall.

Flip over and It's none other than the brilliant Pye Corner Audio, providing an organically blooming suite of saturated percussion and woozy drifting oscillators, in peak PCA fashion. There are few artists that can do as much as with little as Martin Jenkins can, and hearing his audio sunshine underpinning the vocal line is breathtaking.

It's good to get the ears nice and soothed too before the aural assault and hypnotic spirit-cleansing heft of the legendary Gnod. Dubby throbbing bass and cavernous reverb tear the original into shards and piece it together as a churning, industrial powerhouse before shooting the rest into the endless reaches of space.

Closing things out on a space theme is the ideal way to do things too, with Field Lines Cartographer's remix taking things waaay into the outer reaches. Grounding bass churns and stellar synth sweeps float below the modulated vocal line, resulting in a perfectly crafted drone, rich in melody but untethered to the earth.

Rauelsson's third solo album for Sonic Pieces focuses on simplicity and minimalism. It recalibrates his love for ambient with an austere approach that conjures an atmosphere of silence and solitude. On Niu, the artist has traded his craft for shimmering layers of sound clusters and electronic editing in favor of a predominantly raw and acoustic recording.

Recorded primarily in Sofia and Berlin and mixed at Saal 3 of Funkhaus Berlin, Niu presents a 9-song journey that includes orchestral compositions, delicate synth miniatures, and sparse brass and woodwind drones with room for spoken word and a hint of psychedelic noir fable. The result is an album that, despite the eclectic choice of instrumentation, paints a landscape of spiritual clarity; an album that without being typically classical, still feels like a classical album. Three themes vary across the 9 pieces, starting with the purely orchestral "Prelude No. 7" before moving on to airy synth bass arpeggio and pedal steel. With more changing instruments, Raúl next takes us into a fairytale flute composition with guest flutist Heather Woods Broderick and brass vibrations by the trio Zinc & Copper. Finally, Katrine Grarup Elbo recites a poem by Raúl, ending the piece on a somber but beautiful note. The rest of the album continues in this vein, creating a unique sound that surprises the listener at every turn. Niu is a real departure from the artist's previous works in both scope and musicality. Everything was recorded without overdubs and with only minimal editing, trying to preserve the feeling of music coming from a room where musicians play live. Overall, this is music that finds comfort in movement as much as in pause and silence; music in which tenderness and tension exist in the same gesture.

The album also follows a certain mysticism with its poetic interludes, alternate track lists and titles like "Podium Of Riddles", "A Keyhole-Shaped Island" and "Ceramic Swallows, Set Of 3". Perhaps, given enough time, a hidden meaning or a new perception will be revealed. Niu is also set to be expanded into an art book, containing poems and photographs by Raúl, as well as an exhibition. Perhaps the key lies somewhere in there.

All money generated by this project goes to HEAL Palestine

In November 2024, Ocean Moon Group along with friends Ricky Romain and Paul Chivers (Ramjac Corporation) convened at Shearwater Studios in the South West of England to create a collective message of peace. The resulting project is the next instalment of Lo Recordings' ongoing SPACIOUSNESS series of lovingly produced limited cassettes.

'CALL FOR PEACE' is a clarion call to seek a peaceful solution to the conflict in Gaza - and to all conflicts around the globe.
The album was recorded by the group over a single exploratory studio performance, one that was shared with friends and family of the bandmates, who attended the live session to share in this peaceful expression. Jon Tye (Lo Recordings, MLO, Seahawks) had shared with the group a suite of music with differing textures and movements of drones, samples and bell-like tongue drums which served as the foundation of the piece, to which master sitarist Ricky Romain added melodic inflection and counterpoint.

Further percussion was deftly handled by Paul Chivers, who used a wide array of drums from around the world to add his own unique rhythmic inflections. Jack Harman provided harmonic chordal work by incorporating the beautiful Shearwater piano, as well as the differing tonality of both electric and acoustic guitars. Weaving between these mixed motifs was the ambient percussion techniques of Graham Guy Robinson who used rain sticks and chimes to decorate the piece with contrasting punctuations.

'CALL FOR PEACE' was created with the deepest intention that, through music, we can travel beyond borders, beyond words and beyond politics and instead reach out with our humanity and put an end to suffering.

"What we do really affects the world. Most of us think we can’t do anything, but it really isn’t true." - Yoko Ono

While 1995's Washing Machine LP moniker was a thinly-veiled jab at the corporate aesthetic ("no, you cannot turn Sonic Youth into a household appliance brand", the band even considered changing its name to Washing Machine but settled on the album title instead), their major label relationship was indeed a curious buzzpoint of talk on the street after their intake to DGC in 1990. It wouldn't be fair to say that this state of existence propelled the band to reinforce its independent mindset by releasing a series of opaque-looking, French-language-dipping, highbrow-looking releases on their own that focused on the more abstract improv/compositional side of the band; in all truths they had been heavily steeped in self-releasing spillover material prior to that. But after a pressure pot of the early 90's indoctrination into a new operational mode for the band and its visibility, and the forces around it attempting to shape their direction, it seemed like a good time to create a strong show of radical concept.

The Anagrama EP became the first in a series of the SYR label's Perspective Musicales releases seemingly cementing Sonic Youth's connectivity to an increasing public awareness in experimental composers of the 20th century (French or otherwise). The irony was that many of those original avant composers being rediscovered by the indie audience (Partch, Neuhaus, Reich, Messaien) often found themselves on major labels anyway! So, perhaps this reverse approach was a necessary concept/comment given the music biz climate of the 90's. Regardless of how apples and oranges fell in Xenakian probability/theory, it was clear that both Sonic Youth's stature in progressive music, aided by now unlimited taperoll time thanks to a home base studio downtown established after their Lollapalooza stint, gave the band plenty of trailblazing time for their self examination of untraveled avenues.

"Anagrama" unfolds into nine minutes of delicate textures, starting with thick drone segueing into moments reminiscent of the post-crescendo flutter/comedown of "Marquee Moon's" trail-out; Thurston, Lee and Kim's guitars all circling round each other taking delicate pokes and stabs before drifting into some post-rock rhythmic moves tapered with delicate percussive guidance from Steve Shelley. "Improvisation Ajoutée" reaches further out into dissolve with whirring oscillations, guitars hissing and clanking radiator-style in a short blast format that continues into "Tremens" and a spooked-out landscape of gelatinous notes snaking up slowly. The sparseness of attack is colorful, textures emit and linger, silent spots shine, all flanked by tasteful drumming that provides the thread to all the abstraction. Shelley's approach here is interestingly sideways to any kind of usual rock action, it's tempered, mutant and metronomic simultaneously. The finale track "Mieux: De Corrosion" is a real pedal-palatte showcase. Here, Plutonian guitar wash flanges upwards to buoy a myriad of colorful eruptions of amp-spuzz, chopped up tone blasts and general confusion. Out of the blue, some metallic one-note choogle kicks in and threatens to explode into some Judas Priestly motion, before it all sputters into aural glass showers, clang, and finally a ferocious wave of more flange hiss that crashes down on a dime.

This initial foray into SY's Perspectives Musicales series continued onward with releases featuring other co-conspirators, peaking with the ambitious 2CD Goodbye 20th Century that finally connects the band into full-on interpretations of other composers' pieces (as well as displaying their own new ones). The whole series is not so much an outlet for another "side" of the band, but a run that went hand in hand building new approaches of songcraft onto their own, more overground direction which included Jim O'Rourke (who hopped on during SYR3), adding additional density to A Thousand Leaves and other LPs of his era. Fans of the '86 Spinhead Sessions as well as the recently-exhumed later jams of In/Out/In will take in the sounds of SYR1 with glee.

Sunfear is a project from Turkish multidisciplinary artist Eylul Deniz who now returns to Dark Entries with her sophomore album. Deniz has been making waves in sound since 2017 when she debuted her blend of ambient and experimental music using piano, guitar, voice and synths as tools for storytelling and self-expression. Inspired by Dante's Love That Moves the Sun and Other Stars, Pessoa's poems and Turkish poet Lale Muldur, this darker follow-up to Octopus channels some of her own personal loss and grief. Tracks like 'Above' pair sparse guitar riffs with swirling electronics, 'Bright and Wild' contrasts lush drones with jagged feedback and there are also hints of hope in the likes of 'Form Changed.' A great return.

Out of the murky, mystic world of Komodo Kolektif slides the Gamma Knife.

In the corner of a dank, dark mind, a nebulous notion condenses and solidifies, featureless and blind...and from that Komodo Klay a new kreature is hacked, molded and (mal)formed.

“The foundations of some of these pieces were laid almost a decade ago, others more recently. All of them came into being as sketches intended as Komodo Kolektif tracks to develop but for various reasons this didn't happen. The Seven Heavenly Elements was first presented to the group in 2019 but partly through personal differences in musical taste as well as COVID throwing a spanner in the works it was put aside and never worked on collectively. The two Disciple of the Drum 'dubs' are essentially rhythm tracks using the rhythm and percussion of Disciple Of The Drone, also from 2019, stripping away the drone, the gamelan melody and finally, even the bass line, which was initially intended to be the fundamental driving force of at least one of these dubs. In the end neither of these two tracks became anything like the idea that I had in mind, but that's how creativity works sometimes. The vocal parts in Cantation Dub were added most recently, just a few months ago. Fire Dub is just an exercise in me trying to rein in some insane delays and barely managing. The Ghost of Water is an anomaly because many of the fundamental parts are taken from the same jam session recorded in 2015 that led to Djakarta 3001 from the first EP. If you listen closely you'll hear Graeme Miller on guitar (back when guitar was still featured in our weekly jam sessions). I discovered this unedited hour-long jam session on an older hard drive in late 2023 and decided to fashion something from it until what became Ghost of Water materialised: the heavily delayed saron instruments, the jaw harp, the percussion and so on. What makes the track an anomaly is that it is in some ways both the oldest and newest piece of the five. The Seventh Element takes one of the seven elements of The Seven Heavenly Elements (in this case the Mopho synth tuned to the Indonesian pelog scale and ran through the Boss DE-200's depth modulator) to which I then added some gong parts and field recordings from Bali.

Once complete, I realised with an album's worth of material sitting there which was more “Komodo Kolektif” than anything I would normally produce solo, there came the problem of trying to work out what to do with this distinctly Komodo-esque, non-Komodo material. I came up with the idea of releasing it under the name Komodo Kuts...but a part of me felt I'd be cashing in on the Komodo name so ditched that part entirely...but the kuts remained, which seemed appropriate when used alongside my Gamma Knife moniker (which has a long story of its own...in a nutshell I had a benign brain tumour which only 1 in 10,000 people get and which is most frequently removed with a gamma knife (radiation). In medical parlance the device used in this treatment is often shortened to GK machine. I had been using the DJ name GK Machine, which came from my signature GK Mackinnon, since 1994, in other words long before this diagnosis. In the end I had brain surgery in Spain without use of gamma radiation...but the synchronicity of the name connection fascinated me nevertheless. Sometimes the world works in mysterious ways).

Lastly, now that I've sent these tracks out into the world, I feel somewhat liberated and can move on from this fairly niche and specific sound. The gamelan instruments have been returned to Gamelan Naga Mas, from who we'd borrowed them, and the masks hung up. This does not mean that Graeme Miller and I won't work together again in future...I'm sure we will...it just means we won't be tied to working within the constraints of gamelan, synths, percussion and dub that we became known for. So stay tuned...surely something lurks around the corner” GKM, November 2024

Blake Lee has always been fascinated by the unknown, and space, in its isolating, mysterious vastness, embodies this theme immaculately. The open void, captured so memorably by Stanley Kubrick in '2001: A Space Odyssey', is Blake's far-reaching canvas on 'No Sound In Space', a cinematic meditation on the cosmos that's painted in nuanced, emotionally sincere colors. The Los Angeles-based composer has been contemplating his full-length debut since 2021, using his guitar as a sonic paintbrush rather than find himself snared in its traditional aesthetic constraints. Transforming its characteristics with effects and subtle processes, he layers sustained tones and intimate improvisations, creating richly visual polychromatic utopias teeming with unknown life.

Since 2011, Blake has been most known for being the guitarist and a music director for Lana Del Rey, notching up three songwriting credits on her acclaimed ‘Ultraviolence’ full length. He sees his solo work is a form of escapism, a place where he can experiment and find comfort and catharsis outside of expectations and formal structure. The album was written instinctively, and Blake made sure he didn't force anything, letting go and getting out of his own way, listening intently as sounds and textures materialized organically. "I didn't want to ruin it by being a perfectionist," he laughs. And his collaboration with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, who runs the OFNOT label and contributes to two of the tracks on the album, occurred similarly organically.

Blake was moved to reach out to KMRU when he caught a performance of 'Natur' at Los Angeles' Zebulon in 2022, leading to a prolonged back-and-forth. They didn't meet in person until earlier this year, by which time they'd become firm friends, continuously sharing music and conversation. KMRU had lent a valuable ear to Blake, who sent early playlists of 'NSIS' that, over the months, slowly evolved into the finished album. It's the first release on OFNOT that's not by KMRU himself; the label emerged last year with the release of KMRU's own 'Dissolution Grip', and Blake's debut immediately expands its sonic universe. Alongside the playlists, Blake also provided KMRU with the tracks' raw stems, which KMRU began to edit and expand in his Berlin studio. 'Miura' and 'Waiting' are the result of this process, two sublime abstractions that augment Blake's dreamlike, euphoric tones with KMRU's pebbly distortions and booming low-end rumbles. And this same playful sense of freeness seeps into Blake's other compositions.

On the misty 'In A Cloud', he surrounds cascading string tones with soft-focus pads that swell until they're like crashing waves, and on the two 'Echoplexx' pieces, he uses delay and reverb to smudge his sounds until they're viscous residue, the harmonies obscured by whooshes of white noise and distant chimes. The mood is quieted somewhat on 'Moving Air', as Blake's swirling tones form half-heard lullabies, coalescing into a dense, melancholy crescendo, and he fills out the sound with reverberant airport recordings on 'Pan Am', letting pitchy My Bloody Valentine-esque drones warble beneath the transitory chatter. Each track melts into the next, forming a billowing, cryptic narrative that leaves more questions than answers. Blake is constantly searching, and fills his unoccupied space with warmth, perception and sensitivity.

Blake Lee has always been fascinated by the unknown, and space, in its isolating, mysterious vastness, embodies this theme immaculately. The open void, captured so memorably by Stanley Kubrick in '2001: A Space Odyssey', is Blake's far-reaching canvas on 'No Sound In Space', a cinematic meditation on the cosmos that's painted in nuanced, emotionally sincere colors. The Los Angeles-based composer has been contemplating his full-length debut since 2021, using his guitar as a sonic paintbrush rather than find himself snared in its traditional aesthetic constraints. Transforming its characteristics with effects and subtle processes, he layers sustained tones and intimate improvisations, creating richly visual polychromatic utopias teeming with unknown life.

Since 2011, Blake has been most known for being the guitarist and a music director for Lana Del Rey, notching up three songwriting credits on her acclaimed ‘Ultraviolence’ full length. He sees his solo work is a form of escapism, a place where he can experiment and find comfort and catharsis outside of expectations and formal structure. The album was written instinctively, and Blake made sure he didn't force anything, letting go and getting out of his own way, listening intently as sounds and textures materialized organically. "I didn't want to ruin it by being a perfectionist," he laughs. And his collaboration with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, who runs the OFNOT label and contributes to two of the tracks on the album, occurred similarly organically.

Blake was moved to reach out to KMRU when he caught a performance of 'Natur' at Los Angeles' Zebulon in 2022, leading to a prolonged back-and-forth. They didn't meet in person until earlier this year, by which time they'd become firm friends, continuously sharing music and conversation. KMRU had lent a valuable ear to Blake, who sent early playlists of 'NSIS' that, over the months, slowly evolved into the finished album. It's the first release on OFNOT that's not by KMRU himself; the label emerged last year with the release of KMRU's own 'Dissolution Grip', and Blake's debut immediately expands its sonic universe. Alongside the playlists, Blake also provided KMRU with the tracks' raw stems, which KMRU began to edit and expand in his Berlin studio. 'Miura' and 'Waiting' are the result of this process, two sublime abstractions that augment Blake's dreamlike, euphoric tones with KMRU's pebbly distortions and booming low-end rumbles. And this same playful sense of freeness seeps into Blake's other compositions.

On the misty 'In A Cloud', he surrounds cascading string tones with soft-focus pads that swell until they're like crashing waves, and on the two 'Echoplexx' pieces, he uses delay and reverb to smudge his sounds until they're viscous residue, the harmonies obscured by whooshes of white noise and distant chimes. The mood is quieted somewhat on 'Moving Air', as Blake's swirling tones form half-heard lullabies, coalescing into a dense, melancholy crescendo, and he fills out the sound with reverberant airport recordings on 'Pan Am', letting pitchy My Bloody Valentine-esque drones warble beneath the transitory chatter. Each track melts into the next, forming a billowing, cryptic narrative that leaves more questions than answers. Blake is constantly searching, and fills his unoccupied space with warmth, perception and sensitivity.