quête:the drones

DarkSonicTales is a project by Rolf Gisler and his eponymous album his first for Hallow Ground. Having been granted an artist residency by the label in a 300 year-old farm house in the Swiss countryside in autumn 2019, the Lucerne-based musician and sound artist explored the peculiar sonic environment of the building and its surroundings through the use of field recordings, modular synthesizers, guitar, bass, kalimbas, a singing saw as well as self-built instruments. "DarkSonicTales" starts with kalimba sounds and field recordings, setting the stage for "Sonic Darkness"- a self-referential spoken word piece whose sinister jazz-like sound calls to mind Bohren & der Club of Gore. The following "Spring Feelings" contrasts insect sounds with harsh noise elements, elegiac drones and a throbbing rhythm. It's not quite what you'd expect from a piece with such a title, but the stories that Gisler tells throughout the record are more concerned with uncovering the hidden histories underneath what meets the eyes than (re-)creating idylls. The nine minute-long "I Still Believe" further underlines that by bringing together glistening synthesizer notes with industrial-like drones and field recordings that give it a palpable effect before Gisler unexpectedly changes course and quite literally bursts into song. Towards the end of "DarkSonicTales," the music becomes notably more minimalistic. Gisler experiments with the dynamics of modular drones on "Kind of Restless," juxtaposing birdsong and ominous electronic noises on "Best Buddies" before a mid-tempo beat emerges, making the record close on a decidedly hopeful note. These dark sonic tales, they have a happy ending. "DarkSonicTales" is an organic album in more than one sense of the word. Reacting to and reflecting the world around him as well as expressing his inner one, Gisler gives the sounds at the core of his multifaceted compositions space and lets them breathe. Working along stark contrasts and with surprising twists, he also shines a light on the atmospheric and emotional ambiguity of the world he encountered during his solitary artist residency-unearthing the hidden layers underneath what is perceivable.

As trans-Atlantic alchemists pulling from a shared dialectic that somehow encompassed both postmodern deconstructionist tendencies and a delightfully subversive sense of poptimism, it’s easy to see how David Cunningham and Peter Gordon immediately hit it off upon initially meeting each other back in the late-1970s at the height of their youthful transgressions. Having initially worked together on the second Flying Lizards’ LP fourth wall, with its ingenious fusion of dismantled rhythms and rearranged melodies juxtaposed against the slyly sultry singing of Snatch’s Patti Palladin— with Gordon adding a few sprinkles of mischievous sax in the mix— it’s no wonder the collaboration would lead to further musical adventures.

Which leads us directly to the genesis of The Yellow Box. Embarking on a collaborative exercise in the structural repurposing of music as untethered puzzle pieces in need of rearrangement with no predetermined outcomes, the duo gave birth to a project that would see them move through both time and recording studios across Europe, taking nearly two years from 1981-1983 to complete. Enlisting the great Anton Fier on drums from The Feelies/Lounge Lizards nexus and John Greaves on bass from Henry Cow/Soft Heap lore to round out their dueling creative counterparts, the album would be something of a lost treasure until its eventual release on Cunningham’s Piano imprint in 1996.

Cinematic in scope, and filled with drifting drones, beautiful counter-melodies, eery minimalism, Kraftwerkian synthesizers, looped voices, skronky interludes, and other shifting undercurrents of sound, it was an album that utilized both a diverse array of expressive languages, as well as early sampling techniques and prepared instruments, well before most people were thinking in such expansive, integrated terms at the dawn of the 80’s. But such is life at the vanguard of new music. And one of the reasons that it likely sat on the shelf for so long before finally being released well over a decade later. Like a sparser, less groove-oriented version of My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, or a more radical take on the experimental work of Can’s Holger Czukay, The Yellow Box stands at the crossroads of time and technology, fusing multiple strands of musical thought and compositional techniques into a disjointed whole that somehow still comes off as a conceptually complete record.

Now, here it is again, over 40 years later, with perhaps even more historical resonance than it had before, remade and remodeled just waiting to be rediscovered again.

Soft Centre is the new album by Iko Chérie, the solo project of French-born, London-based multiinstrumentalist Marie Merlet. She blends dub-inflected textures, pop tinged vocals, reverbdrenched guitars, Casio drones, and warm experimental noises - creating her own intimate, fragile sound. Self-produced and largely performed by Merlet, the album grew from an introspective process, with many sketches recorded in transit between tours. The result is a deeply personal work, balancing light and dark in a Lynchian dream-pop haze. Songs such as We Smoke That Peace Pipe and Bilbao shimmer between vulnerability and resilience, while the single Ghosted Ghosters of the Holy G captures the immediacy of a one-take dub bass. Some pieces retain the quality of improvised snapshots (Intelligent Women, Half a Metaphor) while others reveal her meticulous production process and songwriting craft (Tears in the Sea, Luciférine). Merlet defines Soft Centre as alive in radical tenderness, unguarded, open, and vivid. Influenced by Clarice Lispector"s prose, Diane di Prima"s poetry and Rachel Carson"s environmentalist writing, as well as Marie"s fascination with a vintage Roland Space Echo, the album is an invitation to connection that she describes as "... hopefully a meditation into healing." A versatile musician trained in classical piano, jazz, and electroacoustic composition, Merlet has long moved between different worlds of sound. She has worked with Laetitia Sadier in Monade, performs with Gina Birch (The Raincoats), Malphino, Yama Warashi, and several other groups. She recently appeared as guest singer on the latest Stereolab album. Her debut solo LP, Dreaming On (Elefant Records, 2015), revealed her singular melodic instincts; with Soft Centre she ventures further inward, shaping her own distinctive voice in experimental pop.

Unfolding ist Jessica Moss' meditativstes und klagendstes Soloalbum und vielleicht das erste in der jahrzehntelangen Diskografie der Violinistin und Komponistin aus Montreal, das man zu Recht als Ambient bezeichnen kann. Die ehemalige Mitglied von Silver Mt Zion und Black Ox Orkestar schöpft aus Postklassik, Drone, Minimalismus, Industrial/Metal, Power Electronics, Klezmer und anderen Folk-Traditionen. Es handelt sich hierbei nicht um abstrakte Ambient-Musik; vielschichtige Violinenmelodien, elektroakustische Bearbeitungen, intermittierende Stimmen und Percussion von Tony Buck, dem Schlagzeuger von The Necks, bringen zutiefst emotionale, genreübergreifende Kompositionen hervor, die von einem Geist der Suche und Beschwörung geleitet sind und sich in einer vorherrschenden Atmosphäre von Beschwörung und trauernder Zurückhaltung entfalten. Die Untrennbarkeit von Persönlichem und Politischem hat sich für Moss in den letzten zwei Jahren immer stärker herauskristallisiert. Als Kernmitglied der Montrealer Sektion von Musicians For Palestine hat sie mehrere Benefizkonzerte mitorganisiert und gespielt und im Frühjahr 2024 das Soloalbum For UNRWA veröffentlicht (das über 800 Unterstützer fand und Tausende von Dollar einbrachte). Später im selben Jahr zerbrach ihre langjährige Fernbeziehung aufgrund politischer Differenzen. In enger Zusammenarbeit mit dem Produzenten Radwan Ghazi Moumneh (Jerusalem In My Heart) entstanden ,Unfolding" in den letzten zwölf Monaten, dem zweiten Jahr des Völkermords in Palästina, als direkte Reaktion auf unser kollektives Miterleben, unsere kollektive Trauer, als Portal zur kollektiven Trauer, als Suchscheinwerfer durch unsere inneren Wettersysteme, auf der Suche nach einander in der Dunkelheit. Moss bewegte sich bereits in Richtung einer erhöhten Fragilität und einem tiefen Zuhören, ihre Musik wurde zunehmend langatmig und zeremoniell. Trotz der stark gesunkenen finanziellen Rentabilität von Tourneen wurde ihre Hingabe, Raum zu schaffen, Verflechtungen herzustellen und eine Verbindung zu einem intimen Live-Publikum aufzubauen, zu ihrem kreativen Leitstern, ihre Solo-Praxis wurde durch ihr Engagement und die Kommunikation in diesen Räumen geprägt. Die jüngsten politischen und persönlichen Umwälzungen haben diese ritualisierten, reparativen musikalischen Prozesse nur noch verstärkt. Die beiden langen Stücke auf der ersten Seite von Unfolding verkörpern diese Sensibilität. ,Washing Machine" verwebt Schichten von Streicherdrones und Filigranarbeit, sanft verzerrt durch Verzerrerpedale und Verstärkung, wobei unentzifferbare, ausgeblasene Sprechstimmen den Mix zeitweise als fragmentarische Palimpseste verhüllter Rezitationen und unbeschreiblicher Gefühle umhüllen. Der Ursprung des Stücks liegt in einer Telefonaufnahme einer europäischen Waschmaschine, die Moss aufnahm, als sie neben ihr saß, mit gebrochenem Herzen auf dem Badezimmerboden, und Trost fand, indem sie eine Melodie zu den mechanischen Obertönen der Waschmaschine summte, die ihren Zyklus durchlief. Das Herzstück des Albums, ,One, Now", beginnt als zarte Anrufung mit Basspuls, Glockenspiel und Glocken, gezupften Saiten und traurigen Lead-Violinenlinien, die von jüdischen und arabischen Modi beeinflusst sind. Umgebungsgeräusche, Feldaufnahmen und wortlose Gesänge werden hinzugefügt, während sich Violinenmelodien überlagern und zu einer hypnotisierenden Drone-Landschaft verschmelzen: eine halb improvisierte, lebendige Komposition, die durch Tony Bucks pinselstrichartiges Schlagzeugspiel und Moumnehs ,Schrei in die Leere" am Ende noch weiter belebt wird. Die zweite Seite ist ein vierteiliges Werk mit dem Titel ,no one / no where / no one is free / until all are free", das sich durch Umgebungsgeräusche, elegische postklassische Streicher und verzerrte harmonische Drones zu einem Höhepunkt aus liturgischer Orgel, rituellen Glocken und schimmernden elektronischen Spuren entwickelt, der die Bühne bereitet für den letzten Song des Albums: die erschütternde Chor-Komposition ,until all are free", eine weltliche Hymne, die aus Jessicas mehrspurigen Gesangsaufnahmen besteht (die sie aber gerne mit anderen im Konzert singen würde). Unfolding ist ,einem freien Palästina in unserer Lebenszeit" gewidmet. Danke fürs Zuhören.

Anushka Chkheidze + Robert Lippok’s »Uncontrollable Thoughts« on Morr Music is the duo’s debut joint release. The Netherlands-based Georgian composer and the German sound artist from Berlin first met in 2019 in the context of a workshop programme that took place in Tbilisi, and later worked with Eto Gelashvili, Hayk Karoyi, and Lillevan on the massive »Glacier Music II« music and book project, released in 2021. This led them to engage in a less conceptually driven form of musicking and real-time composition that corresponds with their respective environments. They draw on traditions such as minimal music or late 1990s and early 2000s electronica to integrate subtle beats with elegiac organ drones, playful melodies with lush textures. The first document of an ever-shifting intergenerational dialogue, »Uncontrollable Thoughts« is a product of mutual listening outside time.

Though Chkheidze and Lippok had access to professional studios, they chose to rent a simple rehearsal space, equipped with only the bare essentials—bass and guitar amps as well as a small PA—to maintain immediacy in their working process. The music they made together corresponded to and drew on the respective possibilities and shortcomings of this studio, much like their collaboration in general is characterised by the care with which they approach each other's talents and ideas. While both had loosely defined roles—Chkheidze was responsible for the free-flowing beat programming and the evocative distortion came courtesy of Lippok, for example—they individually contributed in different ways to their joint process, which is as free of hierarchies as it is limitless. Hence, the duo’s focus on spontaneity and out-of-the-moment emergence makes them organically move beyond tried and tested conventions, resulting in music that seems to suspend time altogether.

When the first chimes on »Bird Song« announce a piece that sets rattling kickdrums against a backdrop of layered drones and rhizomatically entangled melodic elements, it becomes clear why »Uncontrollable Thoughts« carries this title: The album follows the constant detours of the subconscious of its makers, letting them explore moments of ecstasy such as on »Rainbow,« melancholy with »Field,« and the interplay of suspense and release through the ten-minute-long title track. But the different pieces also tie into one aother in various ways. The dirge-like organ drones on which »Rainbow Road« ends reappear in the beginning of »Uncontrollable Thoughts,« much like Chkheidze’s gentle yet emphatic piano chords on »Field« seem to provide the starting point from which the artist develops the striking motifs of the final piece »Opening«, whose title itself suggests that the record as a whole can and should be enjoyed as a loop. All this creates a unique, idiosyncratic temporal logic.

While there is much that sets Chkheidze and Lippok apart as solo artists, the major shared leitmotif in their respective bodies of work is the sonic engagement with space. »Uncontrollable Thoughts« is hence best understood as an extension of this practice; as an album that maps the geographies of their minds in motion, tracing musical movements as they melt into each other.

Downwards present Alexander Tucker in metamorphosis from psych folk to techgnostic bard, aided by notable guests – Justin K Broadrick, Regis, Phew, Karl D’Silva, JJOWDY, and Elvin Brandhi – in a quest for disordered convention and new thrills. One up to Tucker’s outings for Alter and The Tapeworm, and spiritual successor to his »Nonexistant« trio on Downwards, »Clear Vortex Chamber« is an enigmatic take on the brownfield edgelands where the eldritch intersects electronic heck. Decades of work spread between hardcore punk, psych rock, folk, and drone — including work with Stephen O’Malley (Ginnungap) and Neil Campbell (Astral Social Club, ESP Kinetic) — feed forward into this album’s unsteady machine rhythms and cranky junkyard atonalities, where Tucker panel-beats aspects of his previous sound with a newfound industrial thrust and cyber-punky lust that suits him dead well.

A crafty example of how to mutate without losing sight of yourself, the album’s eight parts feel like a cyborg patching itself into modernity. On opener »Udug« Tucker’s signature falsetto peals from a A Scanner Darkly-style scramble suit of stereo-strobing electronics, setting a melodramatic, neo-gothic tension that riddles the album thru the knotted, fractured industrial dancehall bullishness of »Mallets« with Yeah You’s feral gob Elvin Brandhi, via a pair of standout »Fedbck« parts with Tucker’s personal idol, Justin K Broadrick (Godflesh, Jesu, and the rest), featuring the Brum deity’s claw-handed riffs and howl on the first, and smeared with Karl D’Silva’s brass in its noctilucent second part.

Regis also proves a staunch foil for the album’s most robust, club-ready cut »Zona«, hammered out from buzzing metallic drums and monotone bass drones, and pitting his severed vox against Tucker’s own androgynous harmonies to recall aspects of The Ephemeron Loop via British Murder Boys, whilst scene legend, Can and Ryuichi Sakamoto spar Phew (aka Aunt Sally) ideally tempers the flow in a relatively soothing »Sansu«, sharing more cyber-romantic, recombinant sentiments with the channelling of Robert Wyatt gone Funk Bruxaria on »Folded«.

The Sator Arepo, or Sator Square, is an ancient word puzzle comprising five palindromes that's etched on various historical sites throughout the Western world. Its origins are unknown, but the square has long been thought to hold magical properties, used as a charm against illness and evil, to cure insanity or to determine whether someone was guilty of witchcraft. Self-styled "punk ethnomusicologist", acoustician and musician Julien Hairon uses this mystical symbol as the starting point for his debut Judgitzu album in an attempt to reconnect with his Celtic heritage, exploring how its hallowed messages might harmonize with contemporary Tanzanian dance music.Hairon has been traveling across the world for over a decade, collecting field recordings from countries such as Indonesia, Australia, Cambodia, China and Bangladesh, and presenting them on his Les Cartes Postales Sonores label, re-issuing any curious cassettes and CDs he came across on the PetPets' TAPES imprint. It was during this time that he became fascinated by rituals that involved spirits, prompting him to examine his own ancestry when he returned to Brittany. "Many artifacts in the landscape remain," Hairon explains, "and the power of spirits is still palpable." He represents this Celtic mysticism on 'Sator Arepo' with murky drones and magickal synth tones, using xenharmonic scales (tuning outside of standard 12-tone equal temperament) that reach back to the ancient world. These sounds are augmented with fast-paced, sci-fi rhythms informed by his time in Tanzania; "Singeli has contaminated me," admits the producer.The most astonishing example of this is 'Miracle', a thrusting soundsystem experiment that layers serpentine, bagpipe-esque electronic wails over extravagant clusters of blocky percussion. Driven by the frenetic 175BPM pulse that echoes through the streets of Dar Es Salaam - popularized globally by forward-thinking producers like Sisso, Duke and Jay Mitta - Hairon opens up a rare conversation, seeking to draw parallels between today's most urgent dance forms and the archaic rituals of antiquity. On 'Vitalimetre', Hairon drives his sonic palette into the red, harmonizing with Dutch hardstyle and gabber, and splaying distorted drones over maddeningly blown-out kicks and ratcheting percussion. 'L'or Des Fous' takes a more meditative route, prioritizing Hairon's eccentric tonality with expressive sheets of pitch-warped sound that ghost walk across energized, rattling beats.If you heard Hairon's last Judgitzu release 'Umeme / Kelele', described by Boomkat as "one of 2019's deadliest dancefloor sessions," then you'll know how mindboggling this material can be. And with 'Sator Arepo', the French producer deepens his reach, grasping a world that we've almost forgotten and juxtaposing it with a landscape most of us barely comprehend.

Skin/Glove is the second LP by Belgian musician Mathieu Serruys, following the release of his B.A.A.D.M. debut On Germaine Dulac back in 2014. Compiled over the course of a fortnight, the record features material recorded over the past five years: creaks of ice buckling under heat, thick hums like nauseating headaches, plumes of evaporated organ hymns, frostbitten crackles of dying tape loops. These disparate sources are unified by the pervasive corrosion of pain and time, which presses into the surface of every sonic object. Melodies splinter under the strain of being pulled apart; drones tremble under the gathering gravity of fatigue; dissonances flicker like candles on the brink of extinguishment. Yet despite the emotional density of the material itself, the process of composition provides a route toward comprehending how these sounds and experiences are connected. Skin/Glove reads as a constellatory map of adversity and grief, beautifully coalesced through the cathartic distance of retrospect, haunted by the sibilant whispers of distinct memories in dialogue, latticed by lesions that fatefully and poignantly intersect.

When the veil of perception thins, the unreal seeps in.Sound becomes fracture. Time loses structure.There is no intent, only resonance.No creator, only presence.No truth, only the dream.Dense drones, structural minimalism, and time-stretched loops converge to dissolve linearity and summon trance

Following the reissue of their acclaimed debut album in July - Rocket Girl Records is proud to announce the second transmission in the triptych of releases from Welsh sonic alchemists, White Noise Sound (WNS): an exultant, transmutational remix album celebrating the band’s admired self-titled inaugural LP featuring Pete Kember/Sonic Boom, Cian Ciaran (Super Furry Animals), Phil Kieran (techno producer/DJ), Sean Johnson (Hardway Bros) and Timothy J Fairplay (Andrew Weatherall’s Scrutton Street Circle).

WNS’s cult 2010 self-titled debut saw the band channelling their own chimeric wall-of-sound - an incantation in layers of feedback, kosmische rhythms and celestial distortion.  Now, that spell is rewritten.

Fold In Time - WNS1 Remixed sees an extraordinary line-up of artists from across the psychedelic and electronic spectrums dive deep into the band’s original recordings, dynamically reimagining the sonic architecture - unearthing new forms, hidden frequencies and arcane resonances.

Furthering the mythology of an album revered in underground circles - by peers and critics alike - these remixes push the band’s hypnotic, feedback-soaked sound into entirely new dimensions.  Expect deep psych, repetitive beats, acid purity, expansive dubbed-out landscapes and spectral ambient drones.  Tracks collapse and re-emerge, shimmering with new light.

“We wanted to honour the spirit of the original album while inviting some of our favourite artists to completely destroy it,” says White Noise Sound’s Adam Tovey.

Perfect Location Records in partnership with the one and only Ear Candy Music is proud to announce 00-04, a compilation of early works by Bevan Smith aka Signer, New Zealand’s most prominent name in ambient electronica and dub techno.

Smith has been producing emotive chords, pop ambience, and thick dub-ospheres since before the turn of the century. His output is prolific, ranging from various solo monikers (Aspen, Introverted Dancefloor) and collaborations (Skallander, Feeling Flying) to unique projects (Touching the Void soundtrack, Isolated Dreams’ 24 EPs and counting). A rare artist with indie crossover appeal thanks to the 2004 Signer album The New Face of Smiling released on Carpark Records (Toro Y Moi, Beach House, Dan Deacon, Montag), Smith has played as a member of bands such as The Ruby Suns (Sub Pop), Over the Atlantic (Involve), and Glass Vaults (JUKBOXR).

Encompassing field recordings and evoking a cloudy coastal sky, 00-04 is a collection of mostly unheard material written in the early 2000s as Smith navigated the chaos and stress of living in London just after 9/11. A portion of this release may be recognisable to those familiar with the Involve catalog––“Drone Early,” for example, is an alternative version to the dub giant “1201A”––and to those acquainted with Signer’s 2002 Low Light Dreams (Carpark/Involve), an iconic album composed of processed guitar, dub-influenced bass, and synth drones; as if that doesn’t sound appealing enough, Low Light Dreams is home to “Building Memories Without You,” an unforgettably engulfing track featured on Fact Magazine’s 25 Best Dub Techno Tracks of All Time.

00-04 is a (re)issue both nostalgic and new, familiar yet unknown, fresh out of the archive. It possesses the Low Light Dreams aural palette while offering a carefully curated array of never before heard icy-cold moods, soothing minimalism, and shyly optimistic melodies, all glazed with recently finalized additions.

In syrupy slow pursuit of a strong 2023 debut, Yungwebster's somnolent sequel is bolstered by pitch-perfect production from Space Afrika and Nathan Melja, who vaporise the rapper's auto-tuned post-Future drawl with euphoric orchestral drones, brittle micro-trap beats and weightless pads.

Over a decade ago at this point, Future released 'Codeine Crazy', the decelerated finale of 'Monster', one of his best-loved mixtapes. The track neatly summarised themes the Atlanta rapper had been circling for years at that point, layering his slurred, lean-dizzy rhymes over producer TM88's rubbery, melancholy synths. "Take all my problems and drink out the bottle," he moaned robotically, using the track's minor key bounce to represent the crushing delirium that followed fame and its tasting menu of intoxicants. It's still Future's high water mark creatively, and its traces can be observed in a full spectrum of contemporary sounds, from 6LACK's downtrodden, self-aware R&B to Lil Uzi Vert's feverish trap. But it's Yungwebster who's taken the haze to its logical conclusion, reimagining the Magic City-sculpted bumps as hypnagogic Actavis- 'n Xanax-hued ambient music. You could argue it was bound to happen - the more you sip, the slower it gets - and plays as a cracked mirror to cloud rap's long-smoked hybrid of Southern psychedelia and post-OutKast eccentricity.

Webster's opiated POV is clearer than ever before on 'II'. Just peep the cracks in his voice on the Space Afrika-produced opener 'Skyfall' as he coughs and splutters over watery samples, booming subs and SA's patented collage of soundtrack-ready strings and sirens. Presented at regular speed and in chipmunked form, it sets the pace for an album that, like its predecessor, constantly fucks with the timeline, pitching the whole master into doubletime or slowing it down to a crawl to present a curved, inebriated narrative rather than a straight line. Even without the tempo switches, Webster singles out beats that accent his warbled rhymes that sound as if they'll fall apart at any moment. French DJ and producer Nathan Melja backs 'Disheveled' with Black Ark-styled oscillations and airlock'd echoes, filtering the bassline until it almost disappears entirely; with room to breathe, Webster's able to take the lead - you might not be able to pick out the words, not entirely at least, but you get the message.

In fact it's Webster's voice that's the revelation on 'II' - with a coherent mix from producer tnotsobad, the nuances and fluttering tonalities emerge more vividly than they have before. It makes the flip between the regular speed and fast on 'Txts Red on iMessage' a textural decision, the different pace shifting the warbled cadences so Webster's voice becomes far more important than the additional elements. And on the album's Space Afrika-produced eight-minute centerpiece 'Crochet / I Swear', Webster's mumbled bio-mechanical whines create a much-needed foil for the decelerated boom-clack and suspended save room ambience. We get to encounter a personality here, not just an aesthetic, so as the album moves into its twilit fourth side, the beatless, voice-led somniferousness of 'YA SA' and ululating 'Phone' come off like a descent into tranquillised sedation. Rap has rarely sounded so chimeric.

Litania is a doom/hindustan psych band from Italy and Serbia. The sound is based on drones, heavy riffing and inspired by ancient hindustan singing and playing (with instruments such as Sitar, Dilruba and Harmonium). Litania is also the title of our first album, eight tracks of evocative, hypnotic doom, where the raw power of guitars merges with the spiritual depth of Indian classical music. The songs, intense and dark, are interspersed with instrumental passages featuring sitar, dilruba, harmonium, and tanpura. The vocals, deep and ritualistic, draw inspiration from ancient Indian Ragas, evoking a sonic journey suspended between abyss and transcendence.

Red vinyl. Litania is a doom/hindustan psych band from Italy and Serbia. The sound is based on drones, heavy riffing and inspired by ancient hindustan singing and playing (with instruments such as Sitar, Dilruba and Harmonium). Litania is also the title of our first album, eight tracks of evocative, hypnotic doom, where the raw power of guitars merges with the spiritual depth of Indian classical music. The songs, intense and dark, are interspersed with instrumental passages featuring sitar, dilruba, harmonium, and tanpura. The vocals, deep and ritualistic, draw inspiration from ancient Indian Ragas, evoking a sonic journey suspended between abyss and transcendence.

Harmony marches eastward with its 21st EP, reconnecting with its roots through a collaboration with Kohra and Monophonik. While firmly grounded in the label’s deep-techno foundations, this release leans into a sharper focus on functional, dance oriented grooves and basslines.

A-side is opening with weight and intent, shedding the EP’s melancholic hues for something darker and more forceful. The gently broken spirit of “Uyire” follows, gliding between drones and gated vocals, stitched together by tactile percussion and an underlying volatility.

“Wavefolding Dreams” lives up to its name—wickedly modulated waveforms rise from a slapping bassline that pour like upside-down rain, finally dissolving into soothing, dreamy pads.

“Eastern Timbers” starts B-side with a deep, driving momentum. Trancey basslines and swinging arpeggios ebb and flow with tidal pads, wrapping the EP in a hypnotic finish that pulses with forward energy.

Decompress with “Neuroresonance” situated on the inner ring of the B-side. Suspenseful sliding drones in a wide stereo field and a sustained chord that breathes nostalgia, covered by a playful filter in motion.

Ostinato as resistance: Rafael Anton Irisarri’s landmark work reimagined. Marking the tenth anniversary of the American composer’s critically acclaimed album 'A Fragile Geography', this new edition arrives renewed, both sonically and visually.

First released in 2015 (Room40) during a period of personal upheaval and creative reinvention, it endures as a testament to resilience, transformation, and the connection we hold with the places that shape us.

Written in the aftermath of a devastating theft, A Fragile Geography was born out of loss. Just days before a cross-country move to New York, Irisarri’s entire Seattle-based studio was wiped out. Instruments. Recordings. Archives. Gone without a trace. He arrived on the East Coast to an empty room and the daunting task of starting over.

“This album wasn’t just a record; it was a lifeline,” Irisarri reflects. “It became a way to process the emotional chaos that followed: uprooting, instability, and ultimately, the slow, intuitive rebuilding of a life.”

Composed and recorded in the rural woods of the Hudson Valley, the album took shape in seclusion, surrounded by nature, and through a process guided by improvisation. Embracing limitations, Irisarri wove textural layers of field recordings with half-remembered melodies from his Seattle years, piecing them together like fragments of memory. Tracks like “Displacement,” “Hiatus,” and “Persistence” juxtaposed haunting stillness with restless momentum, mapping an inner terrain of grief, catharsis, and rebirth.

Among its defining sounds is “Empire Systems,” a monumental centerpiece built around a simple four-chord progression, organ textures, and guitar drones. Gradually, the track expands into layers of immersive loops and thick, enveloping distortion that wash over the listener like a rolling wave. Often cited as the album’s most majestic passage, it captures Irisarri at his most sonically ambitious. With a harmonically saturated structure crafted from restraint and repetition, it remains one of his most recognizable compositions: an exercise in the art of maximal minimalism.

From the outset, “Reprisal” received praise from BBC’s Mary Anne Hobbs, who championed the track on her radio show. Her support played a key role in introducing Irisarri’s work to wider audiences and solidifying his place within the lineage of electronic, drone, and experimental sound artists. A slow-burning elegy, the piece emerges from a haze of distortion and sub-bass, with dense, unrelenting drones carrying a sense of mounting tension. Just as it seems to collapse under its own weight, flickers of guitar emerge like distant light through fog. It’s a meditation on dissonance, resolve, and the elusive possibility of release.

The closing track, “Secretly Wishing for Rain,” is steeped in saudade: a longing for Seattle’s dour grey skies, lush green landscapes, and desaturated sunsets. Through it, Irisarri mourns a vanished chapter of life bound to the city, a time documented in scattered mementos and cherished collections, now permanently gone. A reflection on what could never be recovered: an era lost to time. Julia Kent’s looped cello motifs added a melancholic warmth to the track, marking the first collaboration between the two artists and sparking a musical dialogue that would keep growing in the years that followed.

More than a career highlight, A Fragile Geography has laid the foundation for Black Knoll studio, which Irisarri rebuilt from the ground up. The studio has since grown into a creative hub for countless projects, with Irisarri engineering records for iconic music figures like Terry Riley, Ryuichi Sakamoto, William Basinski, MONO, Devendra Banhart, Grouper, Emeralds, Steve Hauschildt, Julianna Barwick, and many others. Carried by its lasting influence, the album has quietly captured the ear of a younger generation, its sound and emotional arc finding new listeners in unexpected corners.

The album’s new visual language was reimagined in collaboration with Mexico City–based designer Daniel Castrejón. Irisarri captured ghostly images at Gaztelugatxeko Doniene, a historic coastal site in Bermeo, Euskal Herria. Castrejón then treated the photographs with distressed textures and spectral overlays. The final artwork channels the rugged, elemental forces that shaped both the music and Irisarri’s aesthetic, renewing his ties to ancestral ground inspired by the Basque homeland of his bloodline.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu with exceptional attention to detail, this anniversary edition uncovers every nuance in the sound design, enhancing clarity and presence. With each listen, new elements emerge, inviting discovery and reconnection.

“I don’t experience this album as a document of grief anymore,” says Irisarri. “I hear adaptation and I'm reminded that when everything falls apart, something meaningful, maybe even beautiful, can emerge.”

Ostinato as resistance: Rafael Anton Irisarri’s landmark work reimagined. Marking the tenth anniversary of the American composer’s critically acclaimed album 'A Fragile Geography', this new edition arrives renewed, both sonically and visually.

First released in 2015 (Room40) during a period of personal upheaval and creative reinvention, it endures as a testament to resilience, transformation, and the connection we hold with the places that shape us.

Written in the aftermath of a devastating theft, A Fragile Geography was born out of loss. Just days before a cross-country move to New York, Irisarri’s entire Seattle-based studio was wiped out. Instruments. Recordings. Archives. Gone without a trace. He arrived on the East Coast to an empty room and the daunting task of starting over.

“This album wasn’t just a record; it was a lifeline,” Irisarri reflects. “It became a way to process the emotional chaos that followed: uprooting, instability, and ultimately, the slow, intuitive rebuilding of a life.”

Composed and recorded in the rural woods of the Hudson Valley, the album took shape in seclusion, surrounded by nature, and through a process guided by improvisation. Embracing limitations, Irisarri wove textural layers of field recordings with half-remembered melodies from his Seattle years, piecing them together like fragments of memory. Tracks like “Displacement,” “Hiatus,” and “Persistence” juxtaposed haunting stillness with restless momentum, mapping an inner terrain of grief, catharsis, and rebirth.

Among its defining sounds is “Empire Systems,” a monumental centerpiece built around a simple four-chord progression, organ textures, and guitar drones. Gradually, the track expands into layers of immersive loops and thick, enveloping distortion that wash over the listener like a rolling wave. Often cited as the album’s most majestic passage, it captures Irisarri at his most sonically ambitious. With a harmonically saturated structure crafted from restraint and repetition, it remains one of his most recognizable compositions: an exercise in the art of maximal minimalism.

From the outset, “Reprisal” received praise from BBC’s Mary Anne Hobbs, who championed the track on her radio show. Her support played a key role in introducing Irisarri’s work to wider audiences and solidifying his place within the lineage of electronic, drone, and experimental sound artists. A slow-burning elegy, the piece emerges from a haze of distortion and sub-bass, with dense, unrelenting drones carrying a sense of mounting tension. Just as it seems to collapse under its own weight, flickers of guitar emerge like distant light through fog. It’s a meditation on dissonance, resolve, and the elusive possibility of release.

The closing track, “Secretly Wishing for Rain,” is steeped in saudade: a longing for Seattle’s dour grey skies, lush green landscapes, and desaturated sunsets. Through it, Irisarri mourns a vanished chapter of life bound to the city, a time documented in scattered mementos and cherished collections, now permanently gone. A reflection on what could never be recovered: an era lost to time. Julia Kent’s looped cello motifs added a melancholic warmth to the track, marking the first collaboration between the two artists and sparking a musical dialogue that would keep growing in the years that followed.

More than a career highlight, A Fragile Geography has laid the foundation for Black Knoll studio, which Irisarri rebuilt from the ground up. The studio has since grown into a creative hub for countless projects, with Irisarri engineering records for iconic music figures like Terry Riley, Ryuichi Sakamoto, William Basinski, MONO, Devendra Banhart, Grouper, Emeralds, Steve Hauschildt, Julianna Barwick, and many others. Carried by its lasting influence, the album has quietly captured the ear of a younger generation, its sound and emotional arc finding new listeners in unexpected corners.

The album’s new visual language was reimagined in collaboration with Mexico City–based designer Daniel Castrejón. Irisarri captured ghostly images at Gaztelugatxeko Doniene, a historic coastal site in Bermeo, Euskal Herria. Castrejón then treated the photographs with distressed textures and spectral overlays. The final artwork channels the rugged, elemental forces that shaped both the music and Irisarri’s aesthetic, renewing his ties to ancestral ground inspired by the Basque homeland of his bloodline.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu with exceptional attention to detail, this anniversary edition uncovers every nuance in the sound design, enhancing clarity and presence. With each listen, new elements emerge, inviting discovery and reconnection.

“I don’t experience this album as a document of grief anymore,” says Irisarri. “I hear adaptation and I'm reminded that when everything falls apart, something meaningful, maybe even beautiful, can emerge.”

Honour's debut album is a ligament stretching from Lagos to London and to New York, curling across the diaspora and brushing the darker hues of blues, hip-hop, free jazz, ambient, gospel with Christian mythology and Yoruba folklore. As cinematic as it is painterly, Alàáfíà is a meditation on themes of life, death and love that pulls inspiration from the unexpected poetic profundity of casual conversations, field recordings, literature, ephemera, or personal archives. The result is an impressionistic vision in Black and Blur that both exhausts and implicates language_substantiating a mythos proposed by Fred Moten that sublimates boundaries between everywhere and nowhere; history and the present; the individual and the universal. Alàáfíà delineates a gothic landscape cut by overdriven beats, swooping orchestral blasts, choral bursts and ear- splitting fuzz, where the fleshly and spiritual realms commune. Dedicated to Honour's late grandmother, the title track began to take form after their last embrace and remains steeped in her influence and spirit_a tape-saturated composition that starts in Lagos and ends in London's smoke-stained cityscape, the song's dream-like quality developed out of the artist's grief and PTSD coping with this loss. Beneath the stretched guitar drones and stuttering loops, their grandmother's shared faith bubbles to the surface. "When Angels Speak of Love," borrows its title from two works by Sun Ra and bell hooks, respectively. Sculpting echoes of praise music into disorienting spirals perforated with syrupy DJ Screw-inspired breaks and sharp splinters of melancholic guitar, "When Angels Speak of Love" engages a conceptual dialogue with the spirits of both late thinkers, folding them into Honour's pantheon of ancestral guides. The album's ninth track, "Giz Aard ($uckets)," is a dirge of regimented drums which anchor this somber melody as it whirls into a blizzard of heartache, uncertain if its consequence will be death or eternal joy. The album's sole lyrical offering, "Pistol Poem (Lead Belly)," begins with a darkly humorous bar, "He went thru hell and back/ came back/ 2 get the strap," that swells into a haunting allegory based on the life of Philip "Hot Sauce" Champion. A modern take on the Blues, Honour's lyrics reify the artist's status as a student of both literature and popular culture, crossbreeding the artist's clever wordplay with additional references to Richard Pryor, Robert Johnson, Kelly Rowland & Bryon Gysin. Setting core principles of hip-hop, R&B, jazz and gospel music to atemporal soundscapes and compositions, Honour crafts a record that marinates in its own knotty contradictions. The ghosts that sit on the artist's shoulders have never been more tangible than with this emotive debut.

Ostinato as resistance: Rafael Anton Irisarri’s landmark work reimagined. Marking the tenth anniversary of the American composer’s critically acclaimed album 'A Fragile Geography', this new edition arrives renewed, both sonically and visually.

First released in 2015 (Room40) during a period of personal upheaval and creative reinvention, it endures as a testament to resilience, transformation, and the connection we hold with the places that shape us.

Written in the aftermath of a devastating theft, A Fragile Geography was born out of loss. Just days before a cross-country move to New York, Irisarri’s entire Seattle-based studio was wiped out. Instruments. Recordings. Archives. Gone without a trace. He arrived on the East Coast to an empty room and the daunting task of starting over.

“This album wasn’t just a record; it was a lifeline,” Irisarri reflects. “It became a way to process the emotional chaos that followed: uprooting, instability, and ultimately, the slow, intuitive rebuilding of a life.”

Composed and recorded in the rural woods of the Hudson Valley, the album took shape in seclusion, surrounded by nature, and through a process guided by improvisation. Embracing limitations, Irisarri wove textural layers of field recordings with half-remembered melodies from his Seattle years, piecing them together like fragments of memory. Tracks like “Displacement,” “Hiatus,” and “Persistence” juxtaposed haunting stillness with restless momentum, mapping an inner terrain of grief, catharsis, and rebirth.

Among its defining sounds is “Empire Systems,” a monumental centerpiece built around a simple four-chord progression, organ textures, and guitar drones. Gradually, the track expands into layers of immersive loops and thick, enveloping distortion that wash over the listener like a rolling wave. Often cited as the album’s most majestic passage, it captures Irisarri at his most sonically ambitious. With a harmonically saturated structure crafted from restraint and repetition, it remains one of his most recognizable compositions: an exercise in the art of maximal minimalism.

From the outset, “Reprisal” received praise from BBC’s Mary Anne Hobbs, who championed the track on her radio show. Her support played a key role in introducing Irisarri’s work to wider audiences and solidifying his place within the lineage of electronic, drone, and experimental sound artists. A slow-burning elegy, the piece emerges from a haze of distortion and sub-bass, with dense, unrelenting drones carrying a sense of mounting tension. Just as it seems to collapse under its own weight, flickers of guitar emerge like distant light through fog. It’s a meditation on dissonance, resolve, and the elusive possibility of release.

The closing track, “Secretly Wishing for Rain,” is steeped in saudade: a longing for Seattle’s dour grey skies, lush green landscapes, and desaturated sunsets. Through it, Irisarri mourns a vanished chapter of life bound to the city, a time documented in scattered mementos and cherished collections, now permanently gone. A reflection on what could never be recovered: an era lost to time. Julia Kent’s looped cello motifs added a melancholic warmth to the track, marking the first collaboration between the two artists and sparking a musical dialogue that would keep growing in the years that followed.

More than a career highlight, A Fragile Geography has laid the foundation for Black Knoll studio, which Irisarri rebuilt from the ground up. The studio has since grown into a creative hub for countless projects, with Irisarri engineering records for iconic music figures like Terry Riley, Ryuichi Sakamoto, William Basinski, MONO, Devendra Banhart, Grouper, Emeralds, Steve Hauschildt, Julianna Barwick, and many others. Carried by its lasting influence, the album has quietly captured the ear of a younger generation, its sound and emotional arc finding new listeners in unexpected corners.

The album’s new visual language was reimagined in collaboration with Mexico City–based designer Daniel Castrejón. Irisarri captured ghostly images at Gaztelugatxeko Doniene, a historic coastal site in Bermeo, Euskal Herria. Castrejón then treated the photographs with distressed textures and spectral overlays. The final artwork channels the rugged, elemental forces that shaped both the music and Irisarri’s aesthetic, renewing his ties to ancestral ground inspired by the Basque homeland of his bloodline.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu with exceptional attention to detail, this anniversary edition uncovers every nuance in the sound design, enhancing clarity and presence. With each listen, new elements emerge, inviting discovery and reconnection.

“I don’t experience this album as a document of grief anymore,” says Irisarri. “I hear adaptation and I'm reminded that when everything falls apart, something meaningful, maybe even beautiful, can emerge.”