Cerca:quiet room

- Black and Purple vinyl versions.-LP includes download.
-Son of Blue Note legend Bruce Lundvall.
-12 years since his last record to feature vocals.
Dais Records is proud to unveil the new dark pop masterpiece from artist and composer Tor Lundvall. His first vocal album since 2009's Sleeping and Hiding, and following the release of two instrumental albums and three CD box sets since that time, Tor returns with an album of beautifully intricate sadness and reflection: A Dark Place.Born in 1968 in Wyckoff, NJ, Tor Lundvall is a painter and ambient composer.
The son of Blue Note Records legend Bruce Lundvall, Tor was exposed to artwork, music, and creativity from a young age, and began his professional painting and music output in the late 80s. Widely known for his dark imagery and thoughtful, provocative soundscapes, Tor Lundvall's artwork is all-encompassing. His music, when paired with his paintings, creates a world within which one could easily disappear. An intensely private individual, Tor Lundvall eschews the gallery circuit and live performances for his private studio in Eastern Long Island, NY, preferring to show his artwork privately and focus on studio production and writing without the pressures of the audience and all it encompasses.
Dais Records is honored to provide another glimpse into his world through his recordings. We hope you find it as special and as unforgettable as we do. Artist Statement:It's been twelve years since I recorded my last vocal album, "Sleeping and Hiding" (released in 2009, but recorded in 2005). After completing those sessions, I felt that I had said just about everything I wanted to say lyrically. I wasn't sure if another vocal album would ever materialize, but slowly and surely, new lyrics came with new songs to accompany them. Finding the words to describe this album is almost as difficult as the past couple of years. There is a lot of pain, fear and sadness wrapped into these eight songs. More so than usual, I think. The loss of my father in 2015 and coping with his absence certainly hangs heavily here. I recorded this album at night while I stared out from my bedroom window into the shadows of the garden and the neighbor's house next door. The reflections of the flower lights encircling my bedroom window looked like distant, golden constellations through the glass while I worked. A nice memory. A few of the melodies were inspired by, or constructed around some of my earliest riffs and abandoned sketches, one dating all the way back to 1985. The lyrics to the final track, "The Next World", came to me while swimming alone in the bay one clear October afternoon about five years ago. I originally envisioned a lighter, more optimistic song to accompany my first draft of lyrics, but the piece evolved into a song about final reflections, lost dreams and the terrible sadness of the passing of time.

Der Grundstein für "Quiet The Room" wurde vor zwei Jahren gelegt, als Helen Ballentine einen Song gleichen Namens komponierte und aufnahm. Im Gegensatz zu den meisten anderen Songs von SKULLCRUSHER wurde dieser auf dem Klavier geschrieben, dem erklärten Instrument ihrer Kindheit. Während Ballentine im Sommer 2021 den Rest des Albums schrieb, flogen ihr Visionen aus ihrer Jugend zu, wie die Fledermäuse vom Dachboden, während sie in der schwülen, stickigen Hitze durch ihre Wohnung in Los Angeles lief. Das Bild eines Hauses entstand in Ballentines Kopf, als sie die innere Welt ihrer Songs mit den äußeren Räumen, die sie jetzt umgab, zusammenfügte. Sie dachte dabei viel an ihre Kindheit in Mount Vernon, NY, die sie als größte Inspiration für die Platte bezeichnet. "It's like layers of tracing paper, like someone is trying to make a drawing and you're seeing the entire process", sagt Ballentine über die Entstehung des Albums. Bei der Durchsicht älterer Heimvideos fielen ihr die scheinbar harmlosen Aufnahmen auf, die durch das Fenster gemacht wurden und sie am Klavier oder beim Spaziergang im Garten zeigten. Versteckte Bedeutungen, die über die Ränder der Bilder hinausgingen, eine sich abzeichnende Dunkelheit, die außerhalb des Blickfelds schwebte (ihre Eltern stritten sich, waren auf dem Weg zur Scheidung usw.). Das Haus schaffte es nicht länger, sie alle unter einem Dach zu beherbergen. Ballentine versucht nicht auf "Quiet The Room" die oft zitierte Unschuld der Kindheit einzufangen, sondern will diese in ihrer intensiven Komplexität darstellen. Das Ergebnis ist ein atemberaubendes wie leise bewegendes Werk geworden, das die Reisen widerspiegelt, die wir durch unsere körperlichen und geistigen Sphären unternehmen, um uns der Welt zu präsentieren.

Der Grundstein für "Quiet The Room" wurde vor zwei Jahren gelegt, als Helen Ballentine einen Song gleichen Namens komponierte und aufnahm. Im Gegensatz zu den meisten anderen Songs von SKULLCRUSHER wurde dieser auf dem Klavier geschrieben, dem erklärten Instrument ihrer Kindheit. Während Ballentine im Sommer 2021 den Rest des Albums schrieb, flogen ihr Visionen aus ihrer Jugend zu, wie die Fledermäuse vom Dachboden, während sie in der schwülen, stickigen Hitze durch ihre Wohnung in Los Angeles lief. Das Bild eines Hauses entstand in Ballentines Kopf, als sie die innere Welt ihrer Songs mit den äußeren Räumen, die sie jetzt umgab, zusammenfügte. Sie dachte dabei viel an ihre Kindheit in Mount Vernon, NY, die sie als größte Inspiration für die Platte bezeichnet. "It's like layers of tracing paper, like someone is trying to make a drawing and you're seeing the entire process", sagt Ballentine über die Entstehung des Albums. Bei der Durchsicht älterer Heimvideos fielen ihr die scheinbar harmlosen Aufnahmen auf, die durch das Fenster gemacht wurden und sie am Klavier oder beim Spaziergang im Garten zeigten. Versteckte Bedeutungen, die über die Ränder der Bilder hinausgingen, eine sich abzeichnende Dunkelheit, die außerhalb des Blickfelds schwebte (ihre Eltern stritten sich, waren auf dem Weg zur Scheidung usw.). Das Haus schaffte es nicht länger, sie alle unter einem Dach zu beherbergen. Ballentine versucht nicht auf "Quiet The Room" die oft zitierte Unschuld der Kindheit einzufangen, sondern will diese in ihrer intensiven Komplexität darstellen. Das Ergebnis ist ein atemberaubendes wie leise bewegendes Werk geworden, das die Reisen widerspiegelt, die wir durch unsere körperlichen und geistigen Sphären unternehmen, um uns der Welt zu präsentieren.

Ulla’s productions reveal a discerning process of stripping tracks to their essence, letting space, silence, simplicity and repetition be her guide. They lend a magic touch to a difficult and minimal style of music, creating an album that is comforting and tranquil, yet hypnotizing and transportive. Most evidently, UIla’s music is inspired, by emotions and experiences unknown to us, but perhaps best represented in her own words:

“keeping pictures on a wall left there by someone else.

day dreaming about something not real.

hearing a friend walk through the front door.

letting a plant die.

the silence of a room when the box fan is turned off."

Selection of IKIGAI Album by Nadia Struiwigh. IKIGAI was born in the quiet space between grief and remembering... Made entirely on hardware, from my living room in Berlin near Hermannplatz (my dad's name is Herman -- the odds), in the months my father passed away. Every sound, every sequence, every texture carries his fingerprint. Not because he made music, but because he made me love gadgets. Circuits, signals, blinking lights. He was the man who opened me up to machines and taught me how, eventually, to listen to them and use them for my craft. The name IKIGAI, a Japanese word for ''reason for being,'' found me when I was at a crossroads. The kind where you ask yourself: Why am I still here? What am I still creating for? What part of me still believes in beauty when everything feels like it's falling apart? These pieces came through slowly, on Japanese gear like Yamaha SEQTRAK, KORG, Roland -- like threads weaving a tapestry I didn't know I was making. Each track is a kind of purge... to him, to myself, to the listeners who find themselves in the in-between. The space where you're not who you were, and not yet who you're becoming. I found myself back into soundscapes and Ambient with a touch of Electronica. I weaved in sounds I captured from daily life, memories -- like the laugh of my sister. I built in silence and let the machines cry for me and let them tell the story I couldn't find the words for. IKIGAI is spacious. It's not trying to impress anyone. It's trying to just be, and hold space for all kinds of emotions. It moves like memory... slow, sacred, shifting. This release needs to be close to home, and will be released on my own imprint Distorted Waves, on the day 11.11 -- which refers to my first album that my dad had hanging up in his shed. For my father. Nadia

In Sheep’s Clothing announces the long-awaited vinyl pressing of Marc Leclair’s beloved 2005 album Musique pour 3 femmes enceintes. The album will also be available on streaming for the first time via Community Music Group.

For years after Marc Leclair released Musique pour 3 femmes enceintes, he heard from listeners who had lived with the record in an unusually intimate way. Many described how the music became part of the emotional landscape of the months leading to birth. “I never expected that,” Leclair says. “Many women told me they listened to the record throughout their pregnancies. They said it made a real difference, that it helped them. It became more than just a record.”

First issued on CD in the early 2000s, Musique pour 3 femmes enceintes (Music for Three Pregnant Women) now returns in a new edition from In Sheep’s Clothing Hi-Fi, appearing on vinyl for the first time as a double LP. The record is being pressed in Detroit at Archer Record Pressing, the historic plant behind deep-groove classics by Juan Atkins, Kevin Saunderson, Underground Resistance, UR’s Jeff Mills, and J Dilla.

Listeners who know the Montreal-based Leclair through his better-known work as Akufen might be surprised by the tone here. During the same years he was shaping the intricate micro-sampling tracks that made Akufen a cult figure on labels including Perlon, Force Inc. and Trapez, Leclair was quietly developing this far more personal project. The meticulous craftsmanship remained the same, though the focus shifted from the hyper-detailed cut-up rhythms of his dance records toward something slower and more atmospheric. “I always compare my work to a jeweler,” Leclair says. “It’s really very precise. I’m a bit of a detail freak. I can spend hours or days on just one phrase in one song. Everything has to be perfectly put together.”

The project began almost accidentally. A few members of Leclair’s circle became pregnant nearly simultaneously, including one who had long believed she couldn’t conceive. The first track he recorded for the project wasn’t meant to advance a larger concept, he says. “It was meant to highlight the fact that three of my closest friends became pregnant at exactly the same time.”

Leclair was already a father with a three-year-old daughter, so the emotional terrain of early parenthood was familiar. Gradually the idea expanded. “I began thinking, why not make a whole album that celebrates this and also follows the entire pregnancy, the nine months,” he says. The music developed piece by piece, including a track originally commissioned by the Berlin experimental duo Rechenzentrum that would later become the album’s opening movement.

Nearly seven years passed between the first composition and the finished album, and the music mirrors the strange arithmetic of pregnancy itself. What begins as a single idea multiplies outward, sounds layering and branching until the album feels less like a sequence of compositions than a living process unfolding in time. “I work very slowly,” Leclair says. “Everything has to be something I’m completely behind. I never want to rush anything. I want things to come naturally.” Across its 72 minutes, the album blossoms with the patience of a long meditation on time, growth and emergence.

When Musique pour 3 femmes enceintes first appeared via Mutek, it circulated quietly but steadily. Critics who discovered it later recognized its unusual scope. In a 2006 Pitchfork review, Mark Richardson gave the record an 8.1, calling “150e Jour” “an unfailingly gorgeous and tightly sequenced quilt of guitar and piano samples reminiscent of Tangerine Dream,” and describing “85e Jour” as infused with “viscous pop ambient drift, the gauzy synth pads ebbing and flowing with rhythm.” Boomkat described the album as “a majestic opus from a producer that's always promised so much — here delving into a panoramic construction of almost visibly radiant music that works so beautifully through each and every second of its 72 minute lifespan.”

The new In Sheep’s Clothing Hi-Fi edition finally presents the record in the format Leclair long imagined. “I always thought that record deserved a vinyl edition,” he says. Spread across two LPs, the music now has room to unfold at its natural pace. More than twenty years after it first appeared, Musique pour 3 femmes enceintes remains what it was from the start: a carefully shaped meditation on transformation and the quiet miracle of life beginning.

‘Confession' is an album of quiet upheaval. An album about closeness that arrives late and unexpectedly. About stability rubbing up against desire. About the way friendship can suddenly tilt into something charged — and how that charge unsettles everything around it. Where earlier work often observed from a distance, Confession turns inward. The voice is closer, warmer, less shielded. “This wasn’t the album I intended to make,” says Carla dal Forno. “I originally wanted something veiled and abstract, but I realised I couldn’t hide behind abstraction — the songs only worked when I leaned into emotional truth.”

This is dal Forno’s fourth LP, written and recorded over several years in a small country town, in a studio housed inside a partially abandoned hospital. Long corridors, humming lights, emptied rooms — a place built for care and waiting, now quiet enough for thoughts to echo. That stillness shapes the record: intimate, watchful, unadorned. “I live in a small country town that offers a stillness my life didn’t previously have,” she explains. “In that quiet, feelings I might’ve ignored in a busy city grew loud.” Dal Forno sings plainly and conversationally, with an emotional precision that sharpens the everyday into something quietly unsettling.

The album moves through paired states: going out and staying in, wanting and withholding, devotion and distraction. Domestic calm set against private unrest. A long-held relationship offers safety and routine, while a newer connection opens emotional fault lines — longing, jealousy, fantasy, self-exposure. “At the heart of the album is a friendship that became emotionally charged in an unexpected way,” dal Forno says. “That shift brought daydreaming, jealousy, tenderness, confusion, self-awareness — and eventually acceptance.”

The drama here is internal, incremental, lived. Musically, Confession feels lighter on its feet than its subject matter suggests. Melodic basslines anchor the songs while guitars, harmonies, and gently off-kilter rhythms move around them. There’s a looseness, even a playfulness — “like the sensation of tension lifting once you finally admit something to yourself,” as dal Forno puts it. The album traces a subtle arc: attraction blooming where it shouldn’t; obsession quietly taking hold; fantasy overtaking reality; clarity arriving slowly, sometimes painfully. Visually and emotionally, Confession returns to modest spaces: backyards, beds, night streets, overgrown paths. “The record exists in that contrast,” dal Forno reflects. “Peaceful surroundings, unsettled interior.”

Like all of dal Forno’s work, Confession resists clean conclusions. It doesn’t moralise desire or romanticise restraint. Instead, it lingers in the in-between — where love is stable but not total, where yearning teaches as much as it hurts, where solitude becomes a form of care. Plain-spoken but emotionally complex. Rooted and restless. Held together by bass, breath, routine, weather. An album about admitting what you feel —and living with what that admission changes.

Originally released in 2014 on cassette and digital only, Till Human Voices Wake Us was the first album by the Iranian artist on Umor Rex. It became a key work in our catalog, and now, 12 years later, it is available on vinyl for the first time. This is the first in a series of four special, limited reissues to be released in 2026 to mark the 20th anniversary of Umor Rex.

Till Human Voices Wake Us comprises ten tracks with a clear and carefully structured script, based on poems by T.S. Eliot, highlighting Siavash Amini’s work as a composer for theater, film, and art exhibitions. His music deliberately leans toward ambient expressions, at times recalling Morricone’s Western film scores. The interplay between synthetic and digital elements, together with multilayered, soul-healing electric guitar passages, creates an opulent sonic texture that moves between dramatic and melancholic moments with a finely constructed, fluid dynamism.

There is an emotional depth in each piece, guided by tonal variations and shifting textures that turn the music into a mental journey, with landscapes, a sense of cold resolution, and the quiet inevitability of an ending. Till Human Voices Wake Us was Amini’s first album on a non-Iranian label. Following this release, he has also published work, in addition to Umor Rex, on labels such as Room40, Hallow Ground, and Opal Tapes, among others, and is now considered one of the most prominent figures in Iran’s experimental music scene.

All music by Siavash Amini. Original master by Nicholas Szczepanik. Remastered for vinyl by Rafael Anton Irisarri. Artwork by Daniel Castrejón.

"Already established within Iran’s music scene, Siavash Amini has crafted a powerful signature sound that blends meticulously assembled ambient synthesis with languid electric guitar melodies, recalling Lanois and Eno’s classic Apollo." — THE QUIETUS (Tristan Bath)

With RAUF001, Rauform Records steps out of the gate with a clean, floor-focused statement from label owner Markus Homm: The Cross, a 12" built for late-room pressure, long blends, and sound systems that love detail.
Homm’s writing here is all about restraint and intent: deep house warmth shaped by minimal discipline, tight drum architecture, and dub-leaning space that breathes without ever losing momentum.
Pressed on black vinyl and made for selectors who value depth over drama, The Cross marks a confident first chapter: timeless tools, finely engineered, quietly powerful.

WRWTFWW Records is proud to present THE GENTLE PEOPLE - Soundtracks for Living (Expanded Edition), ?the ultimate Lounge/Chill Out classic from 1997, reborn! Available as a limited edition white vinyl 3LP in heavyweight 3-panel gatefold sleeve.

When The Gentle People first glided into the mid-90s on clouds of strings, sugar and sine waves, they sounded like visitors from another, more glamorous planet. Signed to Richard D. James and Grant Wilson-Claridge's cult label Rephlex, this multinational "E-Z-Core" lounge unit took the aesthetics of 50s/60s easy listening and exotica and gently smuggled them into 1990s club culture.

Soundtracks for Living was their defining statement: an album that "takes the lounge scene and runs away with it entirely… blissful and heavenly," as one contemporary review put it. Imagine KLF's Chill Out or Space growing up on French 60/70s pop, bossa nova, soundtracks, vocal harmony groups, library music and easy listening then slipping out for a late-night date with dub, ambient techno and bubble-bath pop. That's Soundtracks for Living: a record that can score cocktail hour, 4am taxi rides, and daydreams in headphones with the same effortless grace.

The Gentle People - Dougee Dimensional, Laurie LeMans, Valentine Carnelian and Honeymink - began in early-90s Brixton, throwing dress-up theme parties before taking their audio-visual universe into the studio. For them, music was "a way of life": soothing to the ear, rich in pop hooks, and pitched somewhere between the playfully idiotic and the hyper-intelligent. Their debut on Rephlex was the single "Journey", later blessed with a shimmering Aphex Twin remix that pushed their sugar-coated sound even further into outer space.

This Expanded Edition of Soundtracks for Living finally gives this glambient lounge-pop milestone the treatment it has always deserved. Spread lovingly across 3LP, it features new mastering from the original sources, allowing every harp glissando, string swell and analog squiggle to float in high-fidelity widescreen. The core album is complemented by a bonus 12" of unreleased and rare material, offering a deeper dive into the Gentle world: alternate takes, lost interludes, and secret soundtrack cues for lives not yet lived.

Crucially, "Journey" appears here in its original version, Gentle Instrumental and the cult Aphex Twin remix, reuniting band and labelmate in one place and underlining the quietly radical nature of the project: this was lounge music that could sit next to braindance, acid and IDM and still steal the scene.

Pressed on limited edition white vinyl, Soundtrack for Living (Expanded Edition) invites long-time fans and new listeners alike to step back into The Gentle People's universe - a place of fondue parties, bubble chairs, star-lit elevators and endlessly rewinding sunsets, where "the pathway to the stars" is never quite out of reach.

In an era that often reduces the 90s to big-room bangers and grunge guitars, Soundtracks for Living remains a quietly subversive reminder that the decade was also about imagination, camp, softness and utopian possibility. As later writers have noted, The Gentle People weren't just a curiosity on a weird label; they became unlikely icons of a whole loungecore moment, gracing TV, compilations and magazine spreads, and proving that tenderness could be as futuristic as any drum machine.
In conjunction with this release, WRWTFWW has also unearthed The Gentle People's Peel Sessions, a 4-track EP from their 1997 BBC on-air performance, available on vinyl for the first time ever !

Inexplicably, yet true, Lexx returns to International Feel with a record that lives exactly where his music feels most at home. In Between State is a gentle navigation between memory and motion, between what has passed and what is still quietly unfolding. It is reflective without nostalgia, uplifting without force. A record that trusts the listener to drift.
Another Beach opens as a meditation on time and possibility. It looks back with warmth but keeps its gaze fixed on the horizon. A reminder that nothing is fixed, everything moves, and somewhere ahead there is always another sunset waiting on another shore.
Unison follows as a celebration of togetherness. Open-hearted and weightless, it captures the simple magic of shared moments with friends, music traveling across a room, and the quiet certainty that joy multiplies when experienced collectively.
The title track In Between State settles into that suspended hour where day dissolves into night. Inspired by early 90s electronica yet unmistakably Balearic in spirit, it drifts forward with a subtle psychedelic glow, neither arriving nor
departing, just perfectly hovering in place.
Closing the journey, Durchs Hinterland rolls steadily outward into open space. Born from long rides through backwoods and side roads, it moves with hypnotic momentum and the calm rhythm of forward motion. Endorphins rise, thoughts loosen, and the landscape begins to breathe with you.
Four tracks, quietly luminous. Music for transition, companionship, and the spaces in between. Lexx remains exactly where he should be.

Inside his quiet, neon-lit room after midnight, the night settles in shades of blue and violet. Screens glow softly, shelves sit lined with dormant consoles, and the outside world feels distant beyond dark windows and sleeping streets.

4 AM Chill Session is an invitation to watch the stars flicker with each spin of the vinyl. In the quiet hours of the night, let the blend of dreamy melodies and relaxed electronic rhythms pull you into a new dawn with this early-morning synthwave compilation. The nostalgic, intimate atmosphere of these 20 tracks will keep you grounded as the hours fade toward morning.



The physical edition is a visual extension of the music: pressed on double "Starry Night" splatter vinyl, the deep blue and sparkling white patterns mirror the celestial aesthetic of the 4 AM sky.

[a] A1 WYS x dreamẅalker Remix - Snowman [dreamẅalker Remix]

Blue Hour is the most recent release from Friday Night Plans, recently signed by Modern Obscure Music. The project marks FNP's shift from their 'pop' roots towards a more experimental and ambient sound. Friday Night Plans is pioneered by singer/songwriter Masumi who has collaborated on this project with acclaimed Japanese producer Ena. Together, they have created a collection of songs that represents the quiet introspection and emotions of the AM hours, using improvisation during the production process to create a cyclical record that is described as 'dreamlike'. Masumi attributes the project to a journey consisting of fragments of memory through each song; a reflection of how nostalgia and recollection connects us to emotions.

Suicide AFTR 7 moves deeper into the shadows on this release, stripping things back while letting the groove hit harder. Built on pumping 808s, restless synth lines, and a subtle acid pulse, the project blends electro, cold wave, and leftfield instincts into something leaner and more focused than earlier records. There’s a proto-80s spirit running through it: raw, tactile, and slightly unpolished, where tension lives in the negative space and repetition becomes hypnotic rather than obvious.

For the first time, real bass guitar and drums enter the picture, adding human weight beneath the electronics without diluting Suicide AFTR 7’s core identity. The result feels rawer, more intimate, and quietly confrontational. Music for late nights, dim rooms, and inward motion. Still unmistakably SA7, but closer to the bone.

Hit the North is a DJs’ movement
Not a label. Not a revival. A discipline.

Over the years, the collective travelled across multiple states in the US and parts of the UK, digging deep into private collections, basements, garages, storage rooms and forgotten boxes.

They weren’t looking for classics.
They weren’t looking for hits.
They were looking for attempts.

Artists chasing something bigger than themselves.
Trying to sound like Motown.
Trying to sound like Detroit.
Trying to sound like the records that saved them.

Many of them dreamed — at best — of becoming a one hit wonder.
Most never got that far.

Some never crossed a state line.
Some never crossed the street at the end of their block.
Some never played outside their hometown.
Some never played at all.

What they left behind were fragments.

Raw versions.
Unfinished recordings.
Alternate takes.
Rejected mixes.
Test pressings.
Acetates passed quietly from hand to hand.

Sometimes with real credits.
Sometimes with fake ones.
Sometimes with handwritten labels leading nowhere.
Titles that didn’t match the music.
Stories that changed every time you asked.

Often, the trail simply disappeared.

What remained was intention.

Energy.
Urgency.
Hope pressed into sound.

So the collective worked on it.

They edited certain parts.
Extended others.
Cut what didn’t serve the floor.

Not to modernise.
Not to rewrite history.
But to unlock the power that was already there.

The result sounds like Northern Soul pushed to its breaking point.
Fast. Physical. Emotional.
Built for movement.

Some circulated privately.
Others were never pressed at all.

Recorded in personal studios, borrowed studios, friends’ rooms, temporary spaces.
Always outside the system.

This is not nostalgia.
This is unfinished business.

Soul Quest Records reaches a milestone moment with its 20th release, welcoming a debut that feels anything but new. Enter Sean Green… a mysterious new name whose sound suggests deep roots, sharp instincts, and the quiet confidence of a seasoned producer operating under a fresh alias. While details remain deliberately sparse, the music speaks volumes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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