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Maybe it was inevitable that Vilhelm Bromander and Fredrik Rasten would find each other. A symbiotic musical alliance of suggestive combinatory magic that stretches back to the interstitial two day space that separates their dates of birth and manifests here as the movement between ‘perfect’ or ‘just’ intonation and the ragged, psychoactive energy of the slippages from and towards that togetherness that render otherwise simple patterns or generally understood repetitions as wildly other and alive.

Astral Twins shares ‘twin’ works by each composer. The patiently unfolding real time retuning of Fredrik Rasten’s guitars on the a-side’s Sojourns and Vilhelm Bromander’s quickened steps and spry looping melodies on the flip’s Partially Dancing.

Both artists have history of going deep into the aesthetic and acoustic impact of intonation (how you think about what is ‘in tune’). Where their first LP (...for some reason that escapes us, 2019, Differ Records) shared a gorgeous set of sustained tone colour fields, this time they lean more explicitly into the folk music traditions of Scandinavia and further afield, whilst echoing the zoned minimalist atmosphere of Arthur Russell’s classic Instrumentals.

Recorded up close and in real time at Fylkingen’s soon-to-be-abandoned temporary location in Stockholm’s southern suburb of Bredäng, Astral Twins sings with the possibility that one plus one can equal more than two.

Fredrik Rasten:
 Sojourns explores the live retuning of guitar and double bass in a sequence of just intonation harmonies. A guitar ostinato runs throughout the piece where the retuning becomes an integral part of the composition. The slow pace reveals every detail in the transition from one harmonic arpeggio to another — how interfering waves emerge and disappear as the tonal interactions settle in electric clarity. The double bass shadows the guitar's process and comments with occasional pizzicato tones and register jumps, at times providing a low foundation for the sound and sometimes soaring together with the guitar. This is music that is deeply listening; experimental and at the same time humbly inviting many kinds of being with sound.

Vilhelm Bromander: 
As the title suggests, this song has a partially dancing character. The title also has a double meaning with reference to the partials and harmonics that dance together. The basic idea was to write music in just intonation that instead of being drone-based is reminiscent of a lightly dancing folk music, where the joyous feeling of just being in the music — “musicking" — is allowed to lead the way.

The double bass plays repeated overtone double stops in an open harmonic progression with subtle modulations that is inspired in equal parts by Steve Lacy's persistent repetition of phrases as east-asian khaen music. The guitars and mandolin have a freer role, with plucked retuned strings that enhance the bass's modulations and provide forward movement. The music invites to both melodic and spectral listening, suddenly halting so that other focal points can reveal themselves. For example, a chord sequence suddenly transitions to a more spectral part where Fredrik is playing a bowed guitar with a chain, several plucking guitars, voices, and pitch pipes. I wanted to make something ‘orchestral’ with just two people and no overdubs: a dance of overtones and open resonant strings, where we seamlessly take turns standing in the foreground.

Josh Mason’s new collection, "Wave Salt +7," emerges from an oblique origin. Unearthed from a dormant hard drive, it documents a set of work sessions only partially recoverable, their original continuity and intent fractured by time and technical failure. What remains is a constellation of mercurial gestures that proves, against all odds, to be entirely consonant with Mason’s ongoing musical concerns.

In a sense, the very condition of partiality proves generative, with elision operating on multiple levels - structural, sonic, and archival - shaping both the music itself and the circumstances of its (re)appearance. Phrases surface only to be truncated or displaced, hovering at the edge of resolution, and transitions are implied rather than fully enacted. Absence functions not as a deficit, but as an important compositional resource.

Central to the album’s sound is a distinctive use of vocoding. Deployed not to simulate vocal presence but as a tool for tonal sculpting, it yields a shifting lattice of smeared harmonics, angular melody, and attenuated noise. Sounds are pressed through one another, their edges softened, shifted, or selectively erased, producing surfaces simultaneously articulated and porous. Rather than reconstructing a lost whole, the album posits a mode of listening attuned to gaps, interruptions, and unstable forms. Even so, in keeping with Mason’s broader practice, this music remains grounded in melodic logic and a distinctly human scale, ensuring that its fragmentary structures register not solely as experiments, but as expressions of proximity and feeling.

Australian composer-performers Judith Hamann and James Rushford have worked together in countless projects for two decades, perhaps most notably in Golden Fur, their trio with Sam Dunscombe. Black Truffle is pleased to announce Midmeste, their first work as a duo. Its title is Middle English for ‘the middlemost point’, alluding to how the piece builds on the points of overlap between the highly personalised musical languages Hamann and Rushford have developed in recent years. Performed on cello and a variety of pipe organs, Midmeste is a spacious, sometimes unsettling exploration of their shared interest in alternative tunings, psychoacoustic phenomena, the physical properties of their instruments, and the usually peripheral sounds generated by the performing body.

Beginning with a sequence of austerely vibrato-less harmonics from Hamann's cello, trailed by Rushford's whistling portative organ tones, the music soon expands into a slow-moving melodic wander, pausing at times to linger over an uncomfortable harmony or particularly resonant cello tone. Hamann and Rushford have long histories of engagement with pre-Classical European musical traditions, having in past projects performed and radically extended the work of Solage, Louis Couperin, Johann Conrad Beissell and other composers. Here they use a 15th century song by John Dunstaple, ‘O rosa bella’, which returns throughout the piece, distorted, aerated and splayed into new forms.

Developed while the two shared residencies at Akademie Schloss Solitude, Stuttgart in 2020 and La Becque on Lake Geneva in 2023, Midmeste integrates recordings made (at at the invitation of the Biennale Son) on the organ of the Basilica St Valere in Sion, Switzerland—the world’s oldest playable organ, built in the early 15th century. Played by both Rushford and Hamann, the instrument’s idiosyncratic features, including bellows pumped manually using massive wooden beams, are integrated into the music through amplification. Creaks and thumps locate the music physically both in the performers’ bodies and the specific site of its making. Moving through a series of distinct episodes across its forty-minute span, Midmeste makes space for near-silent duets of high harmonics and hissing air, moments where twittering high tones and rumbling sub-bass could be electronic, and static fields that unexpectedly blossom into almost Romantic harmonies.

Listeners familiar with Hamann and Rushford’s work will find many familiar features here: the stunningly rich cello tones, their patient sustain allowing heightened awareness of the inner life of sound and its interactions with the environment; the care with which acoustic space is activated, becoming at times a third instrumental voice; the attention to fragile, unstable sonorities that sometimes have a comic edge. A major work from two key figures in contemporary experimental music, Midmeste synthesises rigorous exploration of fundamental questions of sound and performance with an unapologetic embrace of beauty.

Brisk is the debut album by Polish-Hungarian flutist Juli Deák (*2000), based in Budapest. Comprised of seven solo flute pieces, the album offers a concentrated snapshot of Deák’s musical world—one shaped by classical training, experimentation, improvisation, and folk influences.

The project began taking shape in 2021, as Deák moved away from the polished ideals of classical performance toward a more personal and exploratory approach. Early fragments only revealed their meaning in front of an audience, whose responses encouraged her to continue developing the material. With over 15 years of musical experience, Deák combines technical precision with a willingness to embrace vulnerability and chance.

Breathing lies at the heart of Brisk. More than a functional necessity, it becomes an expressive and structural force. Through close listening, breath feels tactile and intimate, placing the performer almost within reach. Techniques such as circular breathing, overblowing, harmonics, singing while playing, and wind tones allow the flute to unfold into multiple voices, while percussive key clicks provide a steady rhythmic pulse.

Deák foregrounds sounds often excluded from classical music—breathy tones, unstable pitches, squeaks, and audible inhalations—treating them as essential expressive tools. This focus reflects her long-term exploration of the flute’s physical and expressive limits and connects directly to her ongoing solo practice, The Breathing Project, of which Brisk is a distilled release.

Active across classical, contemporary, jazz, and experimental scenes, Deák has collaborated with ensembles including Konstmusik-systrar and the VENI ensemble, and performed at festivals such as Norbergfestival and Ung Nordisk Musik.

Across its seven pieces, Brisk balances immediacy and rigor, inviting focused listening while remaining open and bodily. It documents a musician in motion, attentive to sound as sensation, gesture, and breath, and committed to honesty

Like its cover, Nicolas Remondino's Hìeratico plays in the rich shades of crepuscular spaces. A night-tuned, percussion led album where prepared drums are accompanied by flickers of spoken word, acoustic instruments and muted electronics,

The title translates to 'hieratic', for Remondino a "black and gold" term laden with dualities and complex connotations. A sense of teetering between sparkling light and richly coloured darkness imbues the music, the compositions simulating a sense of heightened acuity as they convey us through a spooky elemental soundworld. The opening title track begins with a metallic shimmer, a drum skin activated in a way that sounds like it's being smelted. A cushioned rhythm enters, a smothered timbre akin to hearing something lurking around the garden. On "litho non-danse", percussion cracks like branches and dried foliage under foot.

Remondino recorded initial outlines for the pieces at Giuseppe Ielasi's studio in Milan, before fleshing out these ideas with his own additional instrumentation and contributions from a globe-spanning network of collaborators. On "blue hymne", chiming percussion equal parts jubilant and sinister heralds spoken word from Limpe Fuchs. "Tombal" opens with Massimo Silverio whispering in the Carnic dialect, a minority language from the Carnic Alps. Around, Marco Baldini, Pierre Bastien and Remondino construct a somber soundscape that cranks and sighs in the crevices.

Hìeratico is an album of hybrids. Diverse voices, accents and dialects deliver its lyrics, the instrumentation underpinning it crosses idioms. The drumkit at its core is modified to amplify its resonant tones and harmonics. Inspired by natural substances and phenomena: stone, wood, wind, earth, metal, grass, rain, clouds and bark, Remondino explores how percussion could evoke their materiality, treating drums as lucid textural instruments as much as rhythmic timekeepers. It gives the album a finely shaded depth and clarity as it conjures the vibrancies that reside in darkened corners. Hìeratico dwells in a sensation that crosses borders, the speckles of light in the oblique night sky. Listening is an aural equivalent to stepping into a pitch black forest and waiting for your eyes to adjust, a lightless void turning into a spectacular tableau of shadows and glows. Daryl Worthington

With Variations for Light Waves, Swedish composer Linnéa Talp deepens the focus and intensity that shaped her 2022 debut Arch of Motion. Once again, the breath and hum of the pipe organ form the album’s core, but here she pushes further into deep listening and sonic nuance. Across seven pieces, she lingers on the instrument’s most resonant points, allowing its character to reveal itself slowly and patiently.
Talp’s path to this work has unfolded with similar steadiness. After first emerging with her project Deerest, she shifted toward improvisation and minimal composition, guided by an increasing sensitivity to sound and perception. Careful listening is now central to her practice, informing both her methods and her musical language.
The album was recorded over four years on pipe organs across Sweden, including a small funeral-chapel instrument in Lötsjökapellet—an environment Talp describes as an exceptional space for listening. Several pieces feature Christer Bothén (contrabass clarinet) and Mats Äleklint (trombone), whose playing blends seamlessly into her aerated organ tones. The improvisation “Air On Both Sides,” recorded in 2022 with Bothén, became the project’s starting point, an immersive bath in glowing harmonics. At times she interweaves Buchla recordings, setting electronic breath against acoustic resonance.
Talp’s fascination with quietness and delicacy is balanced by an interest in sonic brittleness. The closing title track gradually dismantles a downward chord progression, drifting into gentle collapse, while the brief opener pushes the organ’s pipes into gasping strain. These moments create a music open to chance, instability, and transformation.
Threads running through the album include an interest in chords, subtle improvisation, light, and memories of coastal landscapes. Talp also connects the work to the “thick white fog” surrounding her daughter’s birth. The result is music that envelopes like mist yet continually reveals new shapes—a world o

The sibling duo behind the music on Graceful Degradation — organ and drums, nothing more, nothing less — carve out a sound that feels unmistakably organic in a world drifting steadily toward the synthetic. Their interplay is entirely live, subtle in its details yet dynamic in its momentum, built on the kind of instinctive communication only brothers can share.
The music is fully instrumental, unfolding in a borderland where dreamy retro pop dissolves into the hazy textures of shoegaze and the unruly pulse of noisy, electronic leaning jazz. It’s a sonic world that feels both familiar and elusive, nostalgic yet inherently restless. Melodies shimmer and blur, rhythms swell and contract, and the space between the notes becomes as expressive as the notes themselves.
What emerges is a sound that resists easy categorization: warm but unpredictable, intimate yet expansive, grounded in the physicality of two musicians performing in real time. The organ breathes like a living organism, shifting from soft focus ambience to swirling, saturated harmonics, while the drums move with a fluid, human elasticity — sometimes whisper quiet, sometimes erupting with raw, kinetic force.
In this in between terrain, the duo has always found its identity and its freedom. Their music doesn’t chase perfection; it chases presence. It embraces imperfection, celebrates spontaneity, and insists on staying alive in a landscape where so much is becoming weightless and automated.
This is instrumental music with a pulse: subtle, dynamic, and unmistakably human.

The first resonant space Zosha Warpeha played in was the Emanuel Vigeland Museum in Oslo, Norway. Built as a mausoleum, its walls reach up into a gradual archway, creating an environment where sound expands and reverberates for twelve seconds before decaying into silence. Warpeha was greeted only by dim lights when she entered, and it wasn’t until she had spent several minutes listening that she was able to make out the frescoes that covered every inch of the room: graphic depictions of the cycle of life from conception through death. As the sound of her Hardanger d’amore encountered the walls and these slowly emerging scenes, they obscured its point of origin in both time and space, augmenting its own life cycle. The experience sat in the back of her mind over the next several years as she developed her own patient style of composition and performance, one that comes into full bloom on her new album I grow accustomed to the dark.

When Warpeha was selected as an artist in residence at Brooklyn’s ISSUE Project Room in 2025, she saw it as an opportunity to more intentionally explore how her music might fill a room with ample natural reverb. I grow accustomed to the dark documents two single-take solo performances for Hardanger d’amore and voice at IPR, with both pieces composed in a unique tuning system developed to interact with the space itself. Listeners can trace resonance from the contact of the bow on gut strings into the body of the instrument, its five sympathetic strings offering another layer of refraction, before the sound is thrown about the cavity of the room. The echoes emerge like a photographic double exposure, or wisps of smoke that linger in the air, creating ghostly harmonic convergences that blur the line between what is there and not-there. Sound begins to act like light, a synesthetic alchemy that transforms drones into beams and ornamental trills into flickers.

Both side-long compositions, “filament” and “visual purple,” exemplify a duality that animates Warpeha’s music: an expressive, individualistic style that draws on extensive knowledge of her instrument’s history in folk traditions, and an austere, devotional quality maintained by focus and precision. Though very different in character and structure, both pieces evolve slowly through numerous repetitive phrases, passages of stillness, and bursts of intensity. “filament” opens with a cycle of delicate melodic fragments played and sung around a drone before blossoming into an outpouring of swooping arpeggios, harmonics flying from the strings like sparks off a bonfire. The disorienting pulsation of harmonic beating forms the core of “visual purple,” the close-tone dissonance building to a swarm of open strings ringing boldly throughout the space. After the knotty tones reach their climax, the piece collapses into studied quietude, hushed, but without any drop in intensity.

When Warpeha first visited the Vigeland Museum in 2019, she was in Oslo to deepen her relationship to the Hardanger fiddle through the study of Norwegian traditional music, which is primarily passed down aurally. The experience of learning songs by ear, not only internalizing the tune but also absorbing the techniques and tonalities by listening, was a crucial step in her development as a composer. The years since have seen her sharpen those skills as a prolific member of the New York avant-garde and improvised music communities. Warpeha’s music encourages listeners to join her in this journey, to listen closely with each repeated phrase and through each dramatic shift. Like the frescoes on Vigeland’s walls, with time and intention, the depth of I grow accustomed to the dark comes on like a revelation.

"Tonight At Noon" compiles tracks from two earlier recordings sessions: one session from 1957 with Jimmy Knepper on the trombone, the drummer Dannie Richmond, Saxophone player Shafi Hadi and the pianist Wade Legge, which were released on the album "The Clown" (Atlantic 1260). The second session took place in 1961 with Booker Ervin and Roland Kirk on the saxophone, Knepper, the bassist Doug Watkins, Mingus at the piano and Richmond on the drums, and was released on "Oh Yeah" (Atlantic SD 1377).

The two sets differ in mood, but this does not mean that it is an album that uses leftovers. While Mingus in the first session strives for European harmonics and melodic approaches with a hard bop tempo (particularly on the title track) in the direction of the blues, the second session with its vespertine elegance and spatial explorations comes over rather as a sort of exercise à la avantgard Ellington with sophisticated harmonies that pave the way for sluggish marches and gospel-like blues. Kirk and Ervin complement one another particularly well, their swing is appararently boundless. Mingus’s piano playing is deeply rooted in the blues, and his sense of tempo and lightness anhances these numbers, particularly in "‘Old’ Blues for Walt’s Torin".

In these compositions one already finds hints of Mingus’s later recordings. The most beautiful number is taken from the 1957 session and concludes the album: "Passions Of A Woman Loved", almost ten minutes in length, feels like an Ellington suite. Although, or maybe simply because several years passed between the two sessions, one cannot deny this album’s magic.

"Chuck Roth’s music wanders. The New York-based guitarist’s inquisitive style builds from rippling patterns that center the physicality of his instrument, roaming wherever they take him. watergh0st songs, his Palilalia debut, collects songs from the past half-decade, presenting an intimate snapshot of his music that draws from an eclectic background in classical guitar, electronic music, and improvisation." "The mark of watergh0st songs is its exploratory nature. Roth began his musical journey as a classical guitarist studying the canon works for the instrument, but he was never interested in playing fast or flashy. Instead, he wanted to roam down musical paths and see where they led him. He eventually became more interested in electronic music, where he found inspiration in subtractive properties and patterning. The music of watergh0st songs translates that electronic music to the guitar: many of the songs began as synth tones and later branched out through the physicality of his instrument." "When writing music, Roth wants melodies to feel comfortable in the body, focused less on setting a structure and more on letting music unfold how it happens in any given moment. His songs are fluid and his melodies are clear, plucked with careful attention but never too deterministically. His is the music of a traveler, floating around the strings of the guitar. It is about embracing the banal, or the everyday moments that shape a life." "Though Roth’s music often feels quite direct, there is a dreaminess that lives inside of it. His lyrics don’t feel too hot or cold, instead they have a wistfulness and melancholy of what it feels like to live through every passing day. His exploratory style bolsters these lyrics, giving the music its sense of ennui, as does his focus on texture. Each track takes on a different structure: 'Bunny Hop' unfolds like a squirrel jumping from branch to branch of a tree, while 'Private Boy' has a slower approach, growing from delayed harmonics that almost sound like bowed strings. His textures range from metallic and bristling to soft and feathery, evolving with gentleness. It is about ending up somewhere different than where it started, and watching the notes that fall in-between." The embrace of the routine colors Roth’s music. In it, there is a sense of presence, of admiring the smallest details and moments. Roth loves to take walks and look around, observing the beauty of his surroundings. Similarly, watergh0st songs feels like moving through the world at the pace of a comfortable trot and soaking in every sound as it emerges. It is a quiet evolution—but one that stays."—Vanessa Ague

Swiss sound artist Zimoun returns two long-form works sculpted entirely from the Wind Dynamic Organ (Prototype III) in Bern. Built by Daniel Glaus and his team at the Bern Academy of the Arts, this one-of-a-kind instrument transforms air into something palpable and tactile - wind pressure, airflow and tone are all fluid while shaping sound that shimmers between breath and vibration. Zimoun spent years recording and experimenting with it, coaxing warm, resonant tones, and what results is immersive and uncanny. His vast reverberations and slow-moving harmonics seem to breathe and explore a new frontier in acoustic minimalism.

Limited Plum Colored, Full colored Vinyl 12” Jacket 12 Inch Release

Hot on the heels of the recently released Divine Harmonics – From Then Until Now (Part One of Two) the limited orange vinyl edition that sold out within weeks, we are thrilled to announce the arrival of the highly anticipated Part Two of Kuniyuki and Joaquin “Joe” Claussell’s Divine Harmonics imprint.

This next installment is expected to surpass the excitement of both earlier releases, especially as it comes as a plum colored vinyl packaged in a stunning full-color jacket designed by the incomparable Akemi Shimada. As with all Divine Harmonics editions, this is a strictly limited full 12-inch package, created with collectors in mind.

About the Record

Recorded in a fully equipped studio in Brooklyn, New York, this project was born from the idea of gathering musicians who deeply admire Kuniyuki’s work and inviting them to contribute to the composition.

"Dialogues and Shadows" by Goncalo Almeida & Pierre Bastien invites you on a transcendental musical journey, rising above mere notes and timbres. With mechanical instruments and rich harmonics, their music sparks a conversation where listeners may actively participate. Surprises unfold as melodic phrases emerge from diverse sources, including Pierre Bastien's pocket trumpet and Goncalo Almeida's double bass, along with custom-made instruments.

The capstone of Miles Davis’ electric period, Agharta reigns as a funk-rock fireball — a blazing comet streaked energy and elan, a fearless organism feasting on adventure and freedom, a seven-headed Godzilla stomping its way through Osaka, Japan. Recorded on February 1, 1975 at Osaka Festival Hall at the first of a two-show stand, the double album offers an endless abundance of surprises and shifts — as well as a road-proven ensemble whose chemistry and abilities equal that of any of Davis’ celebrated bands. If the true measure of jazz is the capacity to adapt to the moment and challenge perception, Agharta is consummate.

Sourced from the original master tapes, housed in a Stoughton gatefold jacket, and pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, Mobile Fidelity’s numbered-edition 180g 33RPM 2LP set of this epic live release presents it in audiophile sound on a domestic pressing for the first time. Offering greater degrees of separation, detail, and richness than the compressed CD editions and more clarity, openness, and presence than older vinyl copies, this version of the 1975 release helps bring the concert stage to your home. Just make sure your turntable and speakers are up to the challenge of Davis and Co.’s explosive performances — and producing the decibels they demand.

Teeming with vibrant colors, tones, and pace, Mobile Fidelity’s reissue captures the hear-it-to-believe-it flow, sweep, and moodiness of the music. Though the group honors looseness and freedom with religious verve, the specificity and scale rendered by this remaster allows you to detect methods behind the alleged madness that are often otherwise harder to discern. This insight extends to the understated changes in volume, harmonics, and phrasings. In many ways, you can listen as Davis himself did that early February evening as he helped coordinate the overall direction and decided on whether to blow his wah-wah-wired trumpet or take a turn on the organ.

Tellingly, Agharta would likely never have been made if not for Davis’ ventures overseas and, specifically, to the Land of the Rising Sun. Having for years faced a backlash on his native soil for his choices to experiment and blow past all known borders, Davis was welcomed with open arms in Japan. The concert documented on Agharta — as well as the day’s later show, captured on the equally exciting Pangea — stemmed from a sold-out three-week tour that would ultimately mark Davis’ final public appearances for years, as he soon settled into semi-retirement and nursed the wounds connected to an unprecedented stretch of restless and relentless output.

For all the band-fueled merit of Agharta — and there’s plenty, given the cast of saxophonist Sonny Fortune, bassist Michael Henderson, drummer Al Foster, percussionist James Mtume, and guitarists Reggie Lucas and Pete Cosey seemingly blasts off to outer space and travels distant galaxies by the time this minimally edited record runs its course — Davis’ own playing often remains overlooked. As critics Richard Cook and Brian Morton observed, it is “often fantastically subtle, creating surges and ebbs in a harmonically static line, allowing him to build huge melismatic variations on a single note.” He attacks like a man on a mission, out to prove naysayers wrong and bent on trailblazing another new path forward. Convention and skeptics be damned.

Noisy and furious, dark and discordant, abstract and off-balance, radical and intense, abrasive and atmospheric, strangely beautiful and hypnotically eccentric: Agharta evades simple description, and refuses to be pinned down in any established category — rock, jazz, punk, ambient, prog, avante-garde, or otherwise. Shot through with trench-deep grooves, screaming riffs, scalding solos, and free-improv leads, its cosmic thrust comes on as the equivalent of an animated pointillist painting comprised of millions of textured dots, dashes, and dabs that hold your attention so raptly you want to revisit the ideas again and again.

Always steps ahead of everyone else, Davis knew what he was doing even when Agharta debuted in Japan before later hitting U.S. markets. Though “Maiysha” and “Theme from Jack Johnson” are identified in the track listing, the record contains a number of uncredited references to other Davis works, including a nod to “So What.” This decision to bypass labels only adds to the art of the reveal — the rare black magic in which Agharta expertly deals.

Next up on Fluid Electronics, Irish producer Derek Carr joins up the fold with his “Harvest Time EP”, featuring Dutch techno staple Deniro on remix duty. Carr’s style, stretching from low-slung techno to squelchy electro, via breaks and chiselled IDM, teleports us to a zero-G headspace where shape and substance merge into an effervescing and highly stimulating maelstrom of sound. The very idea of self-reflexive dance music.

Fusing sino-flavoured harmonics with a straight out hi-tech edge, the lead single “Harvest Time” is the perfect balance between body and soul music, as it elegantly bridges the gap between that sense of weightless vaporousness and a more tactile punch. Pace itself feels relative. In the hands of Deniro, the track hatches into an eerily haunting piece of cinematic electronics, stressing further on the contrasting batucada-esque rhythms and slo-scudding synth tapestry.

The Italo-indebted “Dust Yourself Down” takes Moroder on a ride by the seashore, all arps and heavily processed keys blazing. Dipped in acid, “Rhea” pulls out a cascade of pretty aggro snares, prismatic bleeps, bloops, and a healthy dose of post-trancey waves crashing against a glassy sound design.

‘Workaround’ is the lucidly playful and ambitious solo debut album by rhythm-obsessive musician and DJ, Beatrice Dillon for PAN. It combines her love of UK club music’s syncopated suss and Afro-Caribbean influences with a gamely experimental approach to modern composition and stylistic fusion, using inventive sampling and luminous mixing techniques adapted from modern pop to express fresh ideas about groove-driven music and perpetuate its form with timeless, future-proofed clarity. Recorded over 2017-19 between studios in London, Berlin and New York, ‘Workaround’ renders a hypnotic series of polymetric permutations at a fixed 150bpm tempo.

Mixing meticulous FM synthesis and harmonics with crisply edited acoustic samples from a wide range of guests including UK Bhangra pioneer Kuljit Bhamra (tabla); Pharoah Sanders Band’s Jonny Lam (pedal steel guitar); techno innovators Laurel Halo (synth/vocal) and Batu (samples); Senegalese Griot Kadialy Kouyaté (Kora), Hemlock’s Untold and new music specialist Lucy Railton (cello); amongst others, Dillon deftly absorbs their distinct instrumental colours and melody into 14 bright and spacious computerised frameworks that suggest immersive, nuanced options for dancers, DJs and domestic play. ‘Workaround’ evolves Dillon’s notions in a coolly unfolding manner that speaks directly to the album’s literary and visual inspirations, ranging from James P. Carse’s book ‘Finite And Infinite Games’ to the abstract drawings of Tomma Abts or Jorinde Voigt as well as painter Bridget Riley’s essays on grids and colour. Operating inside this rooted but mutable theoretical wireframe, Dillon’s ideas come to life as interrelated, efficient patterns in a self-sufficient system.

With a naturally fractal-not-fractional logic, Dillon’s rhythms unfold between unresolved 5/4 tresillo patterns, complex tabla strokes and spark-jumping tics in a fluid, tactile dance of dynamic contrasts between strong/light, sudden/restrained, and bound/free made in reference to the notational instructions of choreographer Rudolf Laban. Working in and around the beat and philosophy, the album’s freehand physics contract and expand between the lissom rolls of Bhamra’s tabla in the first, to a harmonious balance of hard drum angles and swooping FM synth cadence featuring additional synth and vocal from Laurel Halo in ‘Workaround Two’, while the extruded strings of Lucy Railton create a sublime tension at the album’s palatecleansing denouement, triggering a scintillating run of technoid pieces that riff on the kind of swung physics found in Artwork’s seminal ‘Basic G’, or Rian Treanor’s disruptive flux with a singularly tight yet loose motion and infectious joy. Crucially, the album sees Dillon focus on dub music’s pliable emptiness, rather than the moody dematerialisation of reverb and echo. The substance of her music is rematerialised in supple, concise emotional curves
and soberly freed to enact its ideas in balletic plies, rugged parries and sweeping, capoeira-like floor action. Applying deeply canny insight drawn from her years of practice as sound designer, musician and hugely knowledgable/intuitive DJ, ‘Workaround’ can be heard as Dillon’s ingenious solution or key to unlocking to perceptions of stiffness, darkness or grid-locked rigidity in electronic music. And as such it speaks to an ideal of rhythm-based and experimental music ranging from the hypnotic senegalese mbalax of Mark Ernestus’ Ndagga Rhythm Force, through SND and, more currently, the hard drum torque of DJ Plead; to adroitly exert the sensation of weightlessness and freedom in the dance and personal headspace.

Elations Recordings presents "Tairen", an evocative cello recording marking the debut solo release of Melbourne/Naarm-based cellist LEM (Lauren Meath). This deeply personal work is an impressionistic reflection on place, memory and self at the intersection of classical technique and folk sensibility; expanding Meath's lateral, avant garde approach to sound with piano and textural percussion, resulting in a work that unintentionally falls into the post-minimalist tradition.

Conceived as a single piece across five movements and recorded between 2022 and 2024, "Tairen" reflects on memories of a formative place and period for Meath. Each movement scores part of an imagined landscape, mirroring the cliffs and expansive southern ocean of the coastal Otway ranges, remembered and reinterpreted. While tied to a place and time, ultimately "Tairen" is an exploration and expression of self.

Each piece explores this landscape, retaining its own identity while unified by recurring themes, moods and motifs. Meath emphasises restriction in her approach, creating subtly shifting layers of slowly evolving cello lines with expressive unstructured free playing bursting out. In all but one movement ("Bird"), cello is performed in a single take, utilising joined looping pedals on a semi acoustic cello from luthier Paul Davies. Equal parts meditative and expressive, uplifting and melancholic, the instrument becomes a proxy for the human voice creating a work that is intensely beautiful.

While Meath has a background in classical and pop, LEM has always been a more interior, personal project on the boundaries of minimalism and folk; in the past only as a live project featuring only herself, taking a lateral approach to sound through bow, harmonics and voice. While built on this foundation, "Tairen" expands Meath's typically minimal live approach with piano ("Sky") and additional textural percussion. Produced and engineered by James Tom and Danny Smith and with additional percussion from Dylan Lieberman. Mixed and mastered by Cam Parkin.

For his last solo record ‘Through a Room’, Bill Nace shifted his usual saturated guitar sound and added tapes, hurdy gurdy, doughnut pipe, bird calls and the mysterious Japanese taishōgoto. Setting up for the final night of his three day residency at OTO with only the taishōgoto soundchecked, Nace hoped that Parker would arrive with his small soprano as its opposite. “I’ve been interested in state change, you know, playing until there’s a shift in time.” Known for his development of multiphonics to produce a constantly shifting pattern, Evan Parker has evolved an instantly recognizable sound - his work the soprano most distinct. Happily, it was the soprano Evan brought with him and as soon as the two start to play they entwine - taking off in a double helix of keys and reed primed for endless reconfiguration. Space warps under the velocity of playing, the pitch rising unrelentingly. It felt like unending lift off in the room, sheer energy until the last note makes remember your feet have been on the floor the whole time. Total time bending shredding.

–

"They had never played together before. They had never even met each other before this springtime 2024 concert at London’s Café Oto.

Evan Parker, circular breathing maestro of the saxophone, a legend in the universe that is Free Improvisation since the late 1960s and Bill Nace, one of the most intriguing experimental “noise” guitarists of the 1990s/2000s underground scene.

For those of us who have been enamored by the live and documented work of both these gents, this Café Oto duo was a must-hear event. It could have gone anywhere musically and that would have been totally fine. Particularly with Evan having a history of being thrown into a variety of challenging collaborations throughout his career, employing the learned elegance of trust in his own sensitivity to listening, responding, leading, following, sparring, intertwining, dialoguing, creating in the instant and, essentially, dignifying the non-hierarchical grace of chance.

The aesthetics of socialist consideration in Evan Parker’s playing, in his community of expanded and personal technique, for a younger player such as Bill Nace, strikes an exemplary model. This notion of respect would be entirely the reason Nace, when offered a residency at the most critical “new music” room in England, would request to play in duo with Parker.

Bill Nace came to prominence mostly during the apex of experimental music activity in and around Western Massachusetts in the early days of the aughts, with a focus on visual art and free improvisation guitar action. He could be found in the daytime hours, his head hanging down over a notepad, penning fine-tuned illustrations and abstract line drawings, while in the evenings he’d be attending any number of basement noise gigs, many of which he’d be participating in. His guitar style came across as being informed as much as by the physicality of his writing utensils in friction to the page as it was to his hearing and redefining of radical recordings ranging anywhere from the Black Unity Group to Black Flag.

Utilizing various metal files and other small cylindrical objects Bill would allow his guitar and amplifier to be in tandem with the improvisatory movements of his body as the instrument balanced, intentionally and, at times, precariously, upon his lap. The performances came across thrilling and daring and they would be mostly in the context of venues nothing more than a low-ceilinged damp and dank New England basement, a clutch of people hanging onto rusty pipes or sitting up on dilapidated washer/dryer machines, the shards of Bill’s “file guitar” sounds ringing out like the most alive music on Earth.

By the time Bill reached Café Oto in early 2024 he had relocated to Philadelphia all the while releasing a succession of collaborative LPs on his Open Mouth label to present his developing progression of solo and collaborative work. He also would find himself considerably engaged with playing the electric taishōgoto, a keyboard-activated string instrument from Japan which can exist as a one, two, four, five, or six string oblong sound object. Bill’s approach to the taishōgoto would not be too unlike his approach to the traditional electric guitar, though no outboard implements such as files, sticks, and rocks are utilized. The similarity would lie wholly with Bill’s full immersion of high velocity action-playing where, with the taishōgoto, an electric drone beauty occurs. The flurry of sonics and resultant harmonics emanating from the amplifier (which Bill opts to dial into with borderline loud-as fuck volume settings) furthers the meta-mantra properties of the instrument in an astounding display of drone dynamism.

This sound world of Bill’s two-stringed taishōgoto on this Café Oto night worked beautifully with Evan Parker’s improvisatory saxophone conceptions. The duology achieved instant lift off at ground zero only to find it’s eventual finale as if it were organically ordained. Time seemingly morphed from its ancient human construct of control, rendered inconsequential to the torrential transcendence of the room wildly activated by the magic resonance of the multi-directional pan-spatial sonance of the music as if it were some beatific blessing. It was one of those nights where art as a liberating force of spirit gifted the listeners with an offering of exaltation and joy. It was entirely mystical and mind blowing. A night of Total Music."

Thurston Moore, London, 2025

Léo Dupleix return to Black Truffle with Round Sky, following the enchanting Resonant Trees (BT119). The composer here performs on analogue synthesizer, harpsichord and spinet as one member of Asterales, a group that brings together four important figures in the international community of musicians working with just intonation: Dupleix, Jon Heilbron (double bass), Rebecca Lane (quarter-tone flute) and Frederik Rasten (guitars). The quartet perform three recent pieces by Dupleix, each of which is like a different view on the same landscape of unruffled calm, where the unique harmonic events made possible by just intonation flicker across melodies and harmonies like light on the surface of water.

The first side is dedicated to ‘Poème d’air’, composed while Dupleix was immersed in the music of 14thcentury ars nova composer-poet Guillaume de Machaut. A sustained study of the ‘sonic possibilities of low-pitched sounds in just intonation’, it begins with a long, rumbling pitch from Heilbron’s bass, soon joined by the organ-like tones of the composer on synthesizer. The piece is made up of cycling sequences of chords, each of which is repeated for several minutes before the music either freezes on a single harmony or silently pauses before the next episode begins. These structures are initially dominated by the bass and synthesizer, with Lane’s pure vibrato-less flute tone and Rasten picked harmonics adding flashes of colour. As the piece develops, flute and guitar become more prominent and the bass climbs to higher registers. The development culminates in a stunning episode around fifteen minutes in where the texture thins out, casting a spotlight on a melodic figure exploiting the uncanny sound of Lane’s quarter-tone flute.

On the second side we are treated to two briefer pieces, closer to the sound of Resonant Trees as they return harpsichord and spinet to the foreground. ‘Ghosts’ centres on a harpsichord melody that slowly expands as it repeats, growing from a haunting six-note cell to a flowing succession of notes whose shape become increasingly difficult to perceive. Alongside this melodic development, an increasingly lush accompaniment grows, with long tones from bass, flute, e-bowed guitar and synthesizer holding notes picked out the harpsichord melody in a swaying harmonic cloud. Dupleix notes that the concluding ‘Round Sky’ was written in the countryside in spring, a circumstance that seems far from irrelevant to the impression the piece makes when its euphonous spinet arpeggios emerge from a gentle synthesizer drone like a flower from a bud. Performed as a duo with Rasten, with both instrumentalists also singing, this title piece exemplifies what makes Dupleix’s music so unique: grounded in a rigorous application of just intonation principles yet as open as Harold Budd or Andrew Chalk to an uncomplicated, intuitive experience of beauty.

Where we welcome you to the Fourth installment of 'Divine Harmonics" Featuring Kuniyuki Takahashi. Music produced in collaboration with friends
Here we present Part one of a Two Part Series.

Recorded in a full-fledged Recording Studio in Brooklyn New York, the idea behind this current project was to assemble a few admires of Kuniyuki's music and invite them to participate in the composition.
The musicians on this project include master percussionist composer Lekan Babalola on African Drums and Percussion, Lead Guitarist James Bergeau , Joaquin Joe Claussell Main Voice and Percussions; And of course, the artist himself Kuniyuki Takahashi and Acoustic Piano, Keyboards and Drum Programming.
Artwork Created by the one and only artist Akemi Shimada.

Returning with its final instalments, Die Schachtel's Decay Music series extends its explorations of inspired contemporary experimental efforts of the ambient, ethereal, and emotively abstract with Luigi Turra and Elio Martusciello’s “Liminale” and Sergio Armaroli and David Toop’s “And I Entered Into Sleep”, two astounding electroacoustic gestures of blurred space and time, plumbing complexity of meaning bound to sonority. Creatively groundbreaking and inspired, radically rethinking the terms of what ambient music can be perceived to be, they stand among the most striking efforts to appear within the series to date.

An aural bridge between two distinct generations of Italian experimental musicians, “Liminale” is the debut collaborative outing from the creative partnership of Luigi Turra and Elio Martusciello. Active within the context for roughly two decades, Turra (b. 1975) is a reductionist/electroacoustic composer, noted from his tense deployment of concrete and acoustic sources — particularly small sounds and noises — whose work threads the balance between silence, tactile auditory perception, and aleatoric music. Martusciello (b. 1959), on the other hand, is a musician and composer working across the fields of acousmatic and electroacoustic composition, sound installation, multi-media and audiovisual art, and computer music improvisation, who is widely celebrated for both his solo efforts and his collaborations with Eugene Chadbourne, Mike Cooper, Alvin Curran, Chris Cutler, Rhodri Davies, Iancu Dumitrescu, Michel Godard, Tim Hodgkinson, Lawrence D. "Butch" Morris, Jérôme Noetinger, Tony Oxley, Evan Parker, Z'EV, and others.

A single, nearly 40 minute work, extending across the two sides of the LP, “Liminale” — as its title eludes — is an exploration of the liminal through sonic means: “places that exist on the threshold, transitional spaces suspended between a before and an after, between the real and the evanescent” conceiving the soundscape as “a liminal place, a space to be inhabited without the certainty of where it leads.” Unfurling like a labyrinth navigated in darkness, the piece’s first half is marked by sparseness and restraint, as slow-paced guitar tones and harmonics thread silences and resonant ambience within a sprawling sense of space, delicately populated by tiny sounds, fleeting punctuations drawn from undeterminable sources, vocal utterances, and the unexpected appearance of intoxicating piano tones.

As “Liminale” progresses into its second half, Turra and Martusciello enter a more densely populated notion of the in between. No less defined by the presence of space and mystery, discreet textures rustle and writhe within passages of pure concrete abstraction and a fragmented, stretched sense of musicality: long-tones, metallic pulses, minimal vibrations, processed vocalizations, guitar harmonics, and deconstructed piano melodies, buried in spectral, gauzy hazes drifting from beyond arm’s reach within an imagistic and immersive landscape of profoundly meditative scope, where each sonic element flirts the line between emergence and disappearance.

Intimate, fragile, and achingly beautiful, “Liminale”, Luigi Turra and Elio Martusciello’s debut collaboration, is a masterstroke in sound-craft and composition, revealing the potency of meaning locked within transitional spaces and the undefined, and imbuing silence with monumental gravity and weight. Mastered for vinyl by Giuseppe Ielasi, and taking electroacoustic minimalism to an etherial extreme, “Liminale” is issued as the ninth entry in Die Schachtel’s Decay Music series, highlighting inspired contemporary experimental efforts of the ambient, ethereal, and emotively abstract.

Returning to Die Schachtel with his fourth full-length with the label, the Genoa born, Bologna based, guitarist and electroacoustic composer, Stefano Pilia, delivers “Lacinia”, a new, immersive cycle of compositions, delving deeper into the realm of metaphysical, spiritual, and divine meaning, weaving astounding arrangements of sonority from a palette of synths, strings, brass, organ, various electroacoustic instruments, and percussion. Resting at a refined intersection of the acoustic and electroacoustic, drone, and chamber music - overwhelmingly beautiful, delicate, and bold, - “Lacinia” stands as a high-water mark in Pilia’s already remarkable and forward-looking career.

Since its founding in Milan during the early years of the new millennium, Die Schachtel has occupied a singular place in the landscape of experimental music, issuing a carefully curated body of reissues and archival releases by historically significant figures and projects like Christina Kubisch, Luciano Cilio, Marino Zuccheri, Prima Materia, Claudio Rocchi, Lino Capra Vaccina, Gruppo di Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza, Roland Kayn, and numerous others, balanced against bristling contemporary counterparts by the likes of Jim O'Rourke, Giovanni Di Domenico, Nicola Ratti, Luigi ArchettI, Valerio Tricoli, etc. Running like a spine through the label’s output is a deep dedication to the work of the Italian guitarist and electroacoustic composer Stefano Pilia. Now Die Schachtel returns with “Lacinia”, Pilia’s forth full-length with the label and their first release of 2024. Building on the ground of deeply personal engagement with metaphysical, spiritual, and divine meaning, explored within his previous LP with Die Schachtel, 2022’s “Spiralis Aurea”, “Lacinia” encounters the composer working in close calibration with various ensembles, including the Bologna based Ensemble Concordanze and Comunale di Bologna String Orchestra, weaving synths, strings, brass, organ, various electroacoustic instruments, and percussion into an astounding reconfiguration of immersive, contemporary minimalism that stands among Pilia’s most noteworthy releases to date. Issued by Die Schachtel in two special double vinyl editions and a CD edition, “Lacinia” features artwork by Bruno Stucchi/Dinamomilano, and is an absolute marvel that draws you in and doesn’t let go.

First emerging during the early 2000s, over the past two decades – via solo releases and numerous collations with artists like Oren Ambarchi, Valerio Tricoli, Alessandra Novaga, Z'EV, Andrea Belfi, David Grubbs, and numerous others - the Genoa born, Bologna based, guitarist and electroacoustic composer, Stefano Pilia has presented a singular voice within Italian experimental music, harnessing visceral energy and hands-on immediacy within delicately woven tapestries of sonority, each investigating the sculptural properties of sound and illuminating its relationship to space, memory, and the suspension of time. “Lacinia”, Pilia’s forth solo venture with Die Schachtel, encounters the composer reentering his longstanding practice of collaboration with various ensemble forms, including the Bologna based Ensemble Concordanze, for the albums central piece, “Lacinia Off Axis”, spinning stunning string confirmations by Pietro David Carami and Elena Maury on violin, Alessandro Savio on viola, and Mattia Cipolli on cello.

A new, important cycle of compositions by Pilia, “Lacinia” (meaning "lace" in Latin) builds upon the exploration of the metaphysical, spiritual, and divine dimensions through numbers, geometry, and the creation of tonal forms explored by 2022’s “Spiralis Aurea”, mirroring archetypal, immutable forms at the juncture of the abstract realm of mathematics and architectural structures in the physical world, expands the poetics and compositional ideas featured in its predecessor. Regraded by Pilia as both a series of individual compositions and a single work, “Lacinia” was conceived to “define a circular path (a sort of "rhizomatic lace") where the beginning and end touch, suggesting the concept of time not only as linear but also cyclical and ritualistic—an eternal return, a process of transformation where matter changes, its state changes, but without altering the invisible internal principle of mutation”, embarking upon a a series of “steps, degrees, and energetic quanta in a progression of archetypal whole numbers and transcendent creation.”

The resulting 16 tracks unfold as a series of complex sonic meditations. While deeply resonant with the minimalism of composers like Arvo Pärt, LaMonte Young, Pauline Oliveros, and Eliane Radigue, Pilia digs deep and moves far beyond the predictable tonal relationships and structures of that idiom, echoing the ancient liturgical and devotional music of composers like Gesualdo da Venosa, Monteverdi, and John Dowland, at a refined intersection of the acoustic and electroacoustic, drone, and chamber music.

Fascinatingly structured as a whole to include a number of motif returns, across which we encounter works like “Lacinia Off Axis” appearing in slightly different rendering, states, or evolutions three times, and compositions like “Eve” appearing twice in subtly different forms and arrangements - first for four oscillators, guitar and voice and then for string orchestra - as well “Maris Stella”, which similarly makes two appearances, first for horn trio, organ and percussion, and then for string orchestra, with “Lacinia” Pilia delves further into the world of chamber music than ever before, creating a deeply inward, mediative body of work the totality of which, guided by its rich string arrangements of arching, sorrowful tone, feels almost like a mass for some unproclaimed loss; simultaneously locked in the nuances of a moment, while managing to suspend time.

Perhaps most remarkable is Pilia's ability to create a remarkable sense of sonic cohesion while using such a varied number of ensembles and instrumentation. From the sprawling string arrangements delivered by Comunale di Bologna String Orchestra, under the direction of Paolo Mancini, and Ensemble Concordanze, and a flute trio (Cadux / Plectere) brilliantly played by Manuel Zurria, to pieces for sax, organ and percussion, violin duo and percussion, organ and percussion, Pilia manages to create a sense of singular, encompassing world that flows forward like a shifting stream.

Overwhelmingly beautiful, delicate, and bold, “Lacinia” is unquestionably a high-water mark in Stefano Pilia’s already remarkable, forward-looking career. Nothing short of a marvel of contemporary Minimalism that, through its shifting arrangements of harmonics, tonality, and texture draws flickering images of ancient forms of music into the present day, “Lacinia” is Issued by Die Schachtel in two special editions on double vinyl and a CD edition, featuring artwork by Bruno Stucchi/Dinamomilano. This is an immersive all-consuming listen that can’t be missed.

Steve Hauschildt returns after 6 years with a new album titled Aeropsia. After a transcontinental relocation from the US to Tbilisi, Georgia, the electronic composer emerges from a personal and global transformation to explore themes of perceptual distortion, disconnection, and renewal.

Aeropsia (which roughly translates as “seeing the air”) refers to a visual phenomenon in which objects appear to float or shimmer, often due to changes in pressure, perception, atmospheric shifts or neurological disturbance. This becomes a metaphor for the liminality that informs the record: blurry visions, dreamlike displacements, and the fragile membrane separating what is seen from what is felt.

In the years since his last solo release, Hauschildt’s world has been marked by relocation and a growing sense of global turbulence. These experiences became the raw material for a work that navigates institutional haze and uncertainty itself. The result is music that employs decay as method, structure as entropy, and mutation as expression.

While Aeropsia remains subjective in its vision, Hauschildt invited two previous collaborators to expand the album’s gravitational pull. Cellist Lia Kohl, who previously performed on Nonlin, returns and brings a tactile warmth to select tracks, while guitarist Michael Vallera threads spectral harmonics into the mix. The album’s electronic foundation and its tactile elements meet in a state of luminous suspension to navigate the shifting in physical and psychological terrain.

Black Truffle is pleased to announce Melopea, presenting two new pieces highlighting the incredible voice of Amelia Cuni (1958-2024), the great Italian singer, based in Berlin in later life, whose mastery of the classical Indian dhrupad developed in parallel with a commitment to contemporary experimental approaches. After two stunning archival releases documenting traditional dhrupad performances in India in the 1990s (BT079 and BT092), the two side-long pieces here embody the freedom with which Cuni explored new contexts and settings for her singing.

Both make use of a long recording of Cuni singing the pentatonic Raag Bhoop (or Bhopali) made in 2012 by her partner Werner Durand in Berlin. ‘Melopea’ began from Cuni and Durand’s superimposition of this recording with violinist Silvia Tarozzi and cellist Deborah Walker’s performance of Éliane Radigue’s ‘Occam River II’. Inspired by the beauty of this chance encounter (and other experiments with non-synchronous collaboration during the pandemic years), Tarozzi and Walker recorded independently, without hearing Cuni’s voice but ‘having her present in memory’. Tarozzi and Walker’s bowed strings places Cuni’s magisterial performance in a new context, emphasising, as Radigue commented upon hearing the initial layering of her piece with Cuni’s voice, a shared ‘searching toward the partials, overtones, these natural constituents of acoustical sounds in their richness’. Beginning with whispered bowed harmonics, the violin and cello swap the stability of dhrupad’s traditional tanpura drone for a slowly evolving, uneasy web of harmonic interactions recalling some of Harley Gaber’s work, sometimes sitting on dissonances for long periods or allowing changing interference patterns to come to the fore. Primarily focusing on her lower register, Cuni’s performance demonstrates her mastery of microtonal pitch subtleties, elegant sweeping glissandi and meditatively unhurried pacing.

The continuation of the same recording by Cuni forms the foundation of ‘Bhoop-Murchana’, with Anthea Caddy on cello and Werner Durand on soprano saxophone. In contrast to the randomised layering of the first piece, here Durand and Caddy have carefully selected pitches based on the raag Cuni sings, using the ‘Murchana’ form, which uses the constituent notes of the raag as tonics of new raags, retaining the same interval structure. Both players who have developed tones of striking depth and harmonic purity on their instruments, Caddy and Durand’s patient long tones are simultaneously rigorously grounded in the physical properties of sound and possessed of an immaterial, floating quality. Combined with Cuni’s voice and, near the piece’s end, her contributions on hammered and plucked tanpura, the effect borders on miraculous. To surrender to this music is like slipping into an onsen pool, feeling the instantaneous release of every tension. Accompanied by liner notes from Durand, Tarozzi and Walker, Melopea is both a moving tribute to the profound art of Amelia Cuni and, for the uninitiated, a perfect introduction to it.

Seeking overlooked beauty and prizing reflection in a distracted world, Hammock creates cinematic music for the road less traveled. In stirring works of shimmering post-rock ambience that swell with hope and melancholic nostalgia, the Nashville-based duo of Marc Byrd and Andrew Thompson immerse listeners in living visions of moments long past, animating life's fond remembrances and scarring losses with gentle lens-flare harmonics, heart-surging neoclassical drama, and pensive silence. A direct challenge to the passive existence of modern life, where everything can be experienced but precious little is felt, Hammock demands, and richly rewards, patience and contemplation. One of Hammock's career defining works, the Mysterium, Universalis, and Silencia trilogy came to a close in 2019. The first chapter, Mysterium, was written following the death of Byrd's 20-year-old nephew and dealt with incomprehensible, shattering loss. Difficult understanding came on Universalis, and an altered reality understood through quiet reflection took hold on Silencia. Emerging from the silence, a period that brought with it the global pandemic of Covid-19 that has kept loved ones apart, conscripted months upon months of isolation, and roused directionless longing for escape, Hammock presents Elsewhere. Recorded by Byrd and Thompson at their homes, apart and with minimal equipment, Elsewhere serves as a gateway to another place, materializes feelings of separation and loss without closure, and calls listeners back to live their lives - not spend them longing to be something or somewhere else. - Wyatt Marshal

36 and Past Inside The Present label head Zake return to their Stasis Sounds For Long Distance Space Travel project which is music designed not for the distracted world we inhabit, but for the still moments we so often neglect. Crafted with intention and restraint, it is a universe that suspends the listener in time across glacial soundscapes in which the duo conjures a sense of cosmic awe. Soft, slow-moving drones and textural washes drift like solar winds through the vacuum, suggesting the boundless calm of deep space. The production is rich, gentle with tonal shifts and barely-there harmonics that evoke both distance and intimacy, wonder and melancholy. It feels like music beamed in from the edges of the known universe. If you fancy a contemplative journey from the edge of Earth's thermosphere into the unknowable beyond, tune into Stasis Sounds on your best headphones.

I envision this music as emanating from a moon inhabited by otherworldly life forms and ecosystems; these sounds as evoking the moon’s topographies, beings, lunar rivers, and strands of light — as if this moon’s essence were itself sonic, vibrational matter.

Musically and acoustically, Strands Of Lunar Light departs from a set of tones corresponding to a confined harmonic series segment of a very low fundamental frequency: 5.15 hertz. Through twelve continuous sections, each employing various methods of activating openly tuned guitar strings, the music is sculpted from the twenty-four pitches corresponding to harmonics 24 through 47 of this fundamental frequency.

At times, the natural second (octave) harmonics of the open strings are activated and introduce a secondary, octave transposed version of the original harmonic series segment, doubling the fundamental frequency to 10.30 hertz, and thereby revealing a brighter vibrational realm.

As a consequence of the rational pitch relationships integral to harmonic series of tones, these two sub-audio fundamental frequencies (pitch wise existing two and three octaves below the E-string of a double bass, respectively) can be heard in the music as the frequencies of the interference patterns produced by the simultaneous sounding of any pair of adjacent tones in the respective sets of tones.

These interference patterns, of 5.15 or 10.30 hertz (depending on the octave of the tones produced), are perceived as even pulsations occurring with varying degrees of clarity over the course of the piece.

I imagine these fundamental frequencies and their related harmonic tones as the elemental components of a moon, and this music as offering a glimpse into its vast lunar-sonic existence.

Fredrik Rasten, August 2024

36 and Past Inside The Present label head Zake return to their Stasis Sounds For Long Distance Space Travel project which is music designed not for the distracted world we inhabit, but for the still moments we so often neglect. Crafted with intention and restraint, it is a universe that suspends the listener in time across glacial soundscapes in which the duo conjures a sense of cosmic awe. Soft, slow-moving drones and textural washes drift like solar winds through the vacuum, suggesting the boundless calm of deep space. The production is rich, gentle with tonal shifts and barely-there harmonics that evoke both distance and intimacy, wonder and melancholy. It feels like music beamed in from the edges of the known universe. If you fancy a contemplative journey from the edge of Earth's thermosphere into the unknowable beyond, tune into Stasis Sounds on your best headphones.

"Wind, Again" is Sary Moussa’s fourth studio album and second album on Other People. Based between France and Lebanon, Moussa returns with a riveting electro-acoustic album informed by his ever-changing relationships to space, listening, and resonance as well as his growing interest in the study of harmonics in electronic and electro-acoustic music.

Years in the making, “Wind, Again” approaches distinct musical worlds and languages by bringing together improvisations by musicians performing on Western and West Asian instruments such as the Hammond organ, clarinet, saz, and buzuk with electronic arrangements and textures. Rather than force a rapprochement of these musical worlds through the instruments, and keenly aware of the weighty sonic histories they carry, Moussa proposes another way through which they can exist together in contemporary electronic composition.

Composed of six tracks, each of which demonstrate an array of recording and processing techniques, the album generates moments of tension produced by the synthesis of textural, tonal, and harmonic encounters that Moussa calls “shadows”, which outline an impressionistic musical language, existing at the edge of familiarity. Such moments permeate tracks like “Everywhere at once” and “Violence” that open with the Hammond organ and the saz respectively and slowly reveal an expansive field of sounds that showcases each of the musicians’ characteristic performances and Moussa’s densely layered textures. It is a latent yet unrelenting tension through which the composer invokes rather than represents a collective experiential state, especially familiar to those who know his environment. In “Wind, Again” these shadows are articulations of sounds steeped in traditions they are never quite tethered to. Such articulations are implied and alluded to, they play within a musical reference without the latter explicitly existing in the recording, always teetering, never completely here nor there.
Sonically and musically, the album is fueled by the cultural, social, and personal realities that Moussa was brought up and lives in.

Both personal and musical ties with the musicians who feature on the album is central to Moussa’s practice. In the title track “I will never write a song about you”, musician Julia Sabra opens with rolled piano chords, followed by Paed Conca on clarinet and Abed Kobeissy on buzuk, before Moussa’s electronic processing pieces together, lifts, and sustains the melodic direction of the track that emerged from the musicians’ separate improvisations. For Moussa: “The initial connection between the three performances was made on a track that no longer existed, the original recording was both an obstacle and necessary step for the track we hear on the record. It’s as if we were all telling different stories and I pulled on the thread that held them together”. The track, and more generally the record, is tinged with a melancholy of things lost, though it never fully succumbs to it.
“Everything inside a circle”, Moussa’s most personal track and for which he provides the only vocals on the record, harkens back to a childhood memory of listening to music with his mother in a car: “There was a sound I was looking for — a memory of a sound and how I first heard it. This track is a hybrid of that memory and what I wanted to make of it”. The track relies heavily on generativesystems and perhaps embodies most the ambiguous quality of the record’s music in its refusal to be pinned down by one musical tradition or another.
“Wind, Again” is both familiar and alien, cold and warm; it pays homage to the mechanics, materials, and tactility of the instruments and converges acoustic and synthetic spaces. What anchors the sound of the album are the elements of a whole that cannot find its own idiosyncrasy and that is precisely why Moussa’s album is a tour de force.

Stereogum: »Here’s a cool new musical project that feels both out-there and extremely mundane. In 2022, the great Colorado experimentalist M. Sage teamed up with Lieven Martens (Dolphins into the Future) under the name Sage Martens. Their album, »Riding Fences«, was an ambient classical exercise designed to explore the idea of ›Western‹ music. They’re back this year with another conceptual offering (...)«

»Chamber Music for Lawn Mowers« is the second album by Sage Martens. This time, Matthew Sage (RVNG, Fuubutsushi) and Lieven Martens (Edições CN, Dolphins into the Future) sing the lawn.

Did you know a clean-cut lawn is a desire we inherited from the British?

Yes, the British dumped this pleasure into our collective consciousness. Those humorless Victorians who enjoyed having their black pudding on the lawn. They came to this uninspired impression while mis-looking at Italian paintings. Yes indeed, while gazing at these paintings they mistook green lanes for green lawns. Thus it became hip. Every stuffed truffle commanded his gardener to cut the grass.

As a result, this Victorian lust for sterile gardens with pretty green lawns nudged our world into water spillage and pesticide clouds. This new priority produced exhaust clouds and prudish monocultural landscapes. Just by looking at Italian paintings.

As with most of Western history, the practice was exported to America and then turbocharged. By shearing clear the prolific brush of pastures, prairies, forests and glens, biodiversity becomes an aesthetic casualty with long-suffering ecological ripples. An inherited practice narrows the bandwidth of experience.

And so, the childhood habit of humming along in key to the drone of a gas-powered mower while trimming a suburban lawn extrapolates into something expanded — an unanswered question about the harmonics of landscape practices.

M. Sage: Bb clarinet, alto saxophone, sine wave, lawn mowing, processing L. Martens: computer, analog synthesis, digital processing With W. Van Gils: lawn mowing

Something different from Causa Sui. While Causa Sui have always had one foot in heavy psychedelic rock, they've had the other one deep in a wide variety of esoteric styles. On this new double LP set, that other dimension of the band is being explored full-scale. "Szabodelico" paints with a colourful palette, both compositionally and sonically - digging deep into an assortment of cultures, eras and sounds with a true crate-digger mindset. Throughout their 15 year life-span Causa Sui has always been about seeking out new directions, exploring the past and the present in a way that's unique at each step of their subtle progression - forging new paths into an existing map. "Szabodelico" feels like discovering a small room under the stairs of your own house: familiar, yet new and exciting. Their latest vision is an elegantly zoned-out version of itself: a turn inward. Anti-bombastic, yet rich with ecstatic harmonics and dynamics. The band stringed together a long series of sessions in 2019 and early 2020 in their studio in Odense, often prioritizing playful first takes and good vibes rather than clinical perfection.Sparsely dubbed and mixed with a natural, full bodied flavour by Jonas Munk during the summer of 2020, each track has its own aesthetic. There's no simple equation to sum up the 13 individual parts of the album, but as a whole it creates an entity that's as complete as each of its parts. From the windblown opener "Echoes of Light", to the closing slow-motion epic "Merging Waters" you'll find yourself asking where did the time go? The answer of course is: Szabodelico.

Mike Oldfield’s Tublar Bells 2003 is being released on a 1LP blue vinyl and 1CD. Originally delivered by Warner Music Spain on May 26th 2003, this is the final album of the Tubular Bells series. It is a re-recording of Oldfield’s debut album, Tubular Bells, which was released first in 1973.

OONA Recordings is proud to announce the upcoming release of the soundtrack for The Girl With The Needle by Frederikke Hoffmeier. Hoffmeier, whom performs under the stage name Puce Mary, brings a raw, intense and atmospheric score to this Oscar-nominated film, which is contending for Best International Feature. Known for her bold, experimental approach to sound, Hoffmeier’s composition immerses listeners in the film’s dark, emotionally-charged world. Directed by Magnus von Horn, The Girl With The Needle premiered at the Cannes Film Festival, where it earned praise for its uncompromising vision. The film went on to receive a Golden Globe nomination for Best Non-English Language Film and won two prestigious awards at the European Film Awards, including Best Score for Hoffmeier’s hauntingly powerful work. The score to The Girl With The Needle is as dark as it is compelling, a masterclass in creating tension, unease, and raw emotional weight. Hoffmeier’s sound design is equal parts abrasive and intimate, drawing the listener into a world of fractured beauty. Her use of organic textures, electro-acoustic undertones, and dissonant, atonal melodies challenges traditional notions of film music, offering something deeply visceral and unpredictable. The Guardian described Hoffmeier’s score as "nerve-abrading," highlighting the relentless, uncomfortable energy that underpins the film. The Chicago Reader similarly calls the score haunting, noting how it amplifies the film’s stark atmosphere. Drawing comparisons to the intense works of composers like Mica Levi, Awards Radar Magazine praises Hoffmeier for pushing the film’s emotional core to its breaking point, deepening the agony of the protagonist. Throughout the film, Hoffmeier’s score becomes as much a character as the people on screen. Her collaboration with von Horn is marked by a shared vision of pushing the limits of cinema and sound. Screen Daily describes the score as "daring," with its aggressive, contemporary tones standing in stark contrast to conventional film scores. The result is a uniquely modern, avant-garde work that reflects the film's visceral and unsettling nature. Hoffmeier crafts a world of sound that lingers long after the credits roll. The soundtrack’s fusion of organic instrumentation with electro-acoustic elements and bold industrial sounds sets it apart from the ordinary. The British Film Institute notes how Hoffmeier’s "atonal score" creates an "enervating effect," pulling listeners deeper into the film’s raw emotional depths. The combination of brutal sound design and haunting melodies builds a layered, evocative listening experience, one that grows increasingly intense with every listen.

"Underground EP" is an immersive dub experience from Domino Vibes. It's the third release from theyoung but promising romanian label, that stays true to its groovy dub-techno sound.

Especially tailored for the clubgoer, the opener "Soirée Privée" is an odissey into
monotonal synth themes played in a echo chamber, a pumping kick accompanied by syncopatedperccussion accents lost in delay reflections.The whole rhythmic construction drives the dance forward to a hypnotic state that finally locks in an endless loop.

"Night Drive" is recorded with a playful wit, using synth pads with rich chord harmonics all packaged with a rolling beat that drives the dancer to a realm of happiness. A must have for the DJs from the romanian underground scene, "Get Real" is the true banger of the release that will fill any Floor. It is an uncompromising crowd pleaser, with a punching kick, thick bass lines and rich synth chords ready to impress any clubgoer and guaranteed to lead you in a memorable epic state at the peak of afters. The ending act "Warmness Inc." is constructed around a solid groove, a relentless beat, a deep bass line, and a warm synth theme that carries you to an euphoric state of mind.

Kali Malone's The Sacrificial Code is the 2019 breakthrough album of the acclaimed composer's pipe organ pieces. Her temporally informed studies of harmonics and intonation breathed life into a suite of compositions which leaves the heart moved and mind still. This 2025 edition was mastered by Rashad Becker and features a new track Sacrificial Code III. Pitchfork praised the album for its "time-stretching properties" and "clean minimalism." Resident Advisor described the album as an "exercise in concentration, restraint, and focus." Tiny Mix Tapes emphasized the "intensity and intimacy" of the album, pointing out how Malone's close miking technique brings out every textural detail of the organ, creating a highly focused and immersive listening experience.

- 180 GRAM AUDIOPHILE VINYL
- PVC PROTECTIVE SLEEVE
- SCORE BY JOHN DEBNEY
- CONTAINS A 8-PAGE BOOKLET
- LIMITED 15TH ANNIVERSARY EDITION OF 500 INDIVIDUALLY NUMBERED COPIES ON TRANSPARENT RED VINYL

Passion Of The Christ (2004), composed by John Debney, is the original score for Mel Gibson's controversial film The Passion Of The Christ. The soundtrack received an Academy Award nomination for Best Original Score and it was on the first place in both Top Christian Albums and Top Soundtracks in 2004. In 2005, the album won a Dove Award for Instrumental album of the year at the 36th GMA Dove Awards.

The soundtrack succeeds as a coherent, moving, well-executed musical statement whether or not has seen the film. The album is a combination of folk instruments, Eastern-tinged harmonics, solo, and choral voices. Debney has used the Indian master violinist and vocalist L. Shankar, and singer/double-violinist Gingger Shankar.

Debney's soundtrack is an interesting and highly recommended work. It will offer those who choose to encounter it a far-reaching and deeply affective listening experience that is as aesthetically beautiful and unsetting as it is evocatively familiar.

Available as a limited 15th anniversary edition of 500 individually numbered copies on transparent red vinyl.

Spandau20, an imprint named after the Western Berlin district and focused on artists from the area, delivers techno in all diverse forms - from warehouse and electronic peak time beats to breaks and IDM, balancing the old and new school sounds flawlessly. With a focus on vinyl releases, for the collectors, Spandau20 has lately also focused on its label nights, with showcases at Fabric, Bassiani and many others. The label's 10th release features 10 tracks that epitomise the musical diversity of Spandau20 and the progressive musical mindset of its roster, calling on the label favourites and Spandau natives to deliver brand new and exciting music. This special release even features one track that all artists have worked on together: 'Come Closer', a swarming, slithering beginning featured as the VA's opener. Its barely coherent female vocal echoing amidst a cacophony of demon-like effects. The chilling ambience captured at the offset transcends into the first full length track by Elli Acula, 'Floating Eyes', a cur characterised by an authoritative, pounding bass featuring calculated percussive rolls and metallic overtones to make for a face-scrunching opener to this devilish collection of works. FJAAK follow for the first of twin cameo appearances, partnering up with fellow live supremo and hardware aficionado KiNK. On 'Overbridge' the trio deliver a cavernous, rolling number driven by a deep thrumming bass in addition to a razor-edged lead synth, and pulsating technopattern. Dajusch is known for incorporating his years of classical study in with his immersive musical style - and with his VA effort the Berlin native neatly showcases this. Easing the energy slightly, 'Move' escalates from its warm, melodic intro into rumbling goliath of a beat comprising a looping, slew of gassy harmonics. The momentum of the release shifts considerably with the introduction of acutely versatile producer, DJ and sound artist Claus. The artist from Spandau leans his track 'Bloomscroll' towards sparse, dubby sonics in which he intricately ties together to form churning, burgeoning soundscape. FJAAK jolt proceedings back into the techno groove with their signature blend of arresting sub-bass and reverberating rhythms, which come thick, fast and heavy on 'Jackfruit'. The abstract wonder of Anna Z's broken-beat like stylings is fully explored on 'Icy Liq'. It's outlandish and amorphous in its execution, causing a clattering percussive chaos that's choicely pieced together by the modular-extraordinaire. Nikk stealthy moves into breaks territory with his track 'Down In The Shadows', packing a trap-like snare with an acid-flecked melody and dawn-breaking, dream-like textures. The penultimate track on the VA is 'Tufted'. J.Manuel expertly employs a chorus of robot-like sonics that course through a short-circuiting low-end to produce a pacy, inescapable journey via a whirling, merciless beat. He is joined by the legendary producer Tobi Neumann for their menacingly ambient number titled 'Fennec.' In parts a nod to UK dubstep, the duo concocts a fierce admixture of styles bolstering tribal-like components with industrialised overtones and methodically crafted drum-fills.

Japanese bamboo flute maestro and goat (JP) cohort Rai Tateishi makes an impressive debut statement with his holistic attempts to transcend the limits of ancient instruments to reveal gently delirious insights.

‘Presence’ is a triumph of improvised, elemental musicality that distills aspects of myriad folk traditions in pursuit of the artist’s own truth. For 40 minutes of singularly weird, locked-in performance, Rai Tateishi diverges his formative training in the shinobue (a bamboo flute) to applications for its elder sibling, the shakuhachi, and its distant relatives in the khene mouth organ of Northeastern Thailand and Laos, and even the Irish flute, with remarkable results returned from each.

Piece to piece, Tateishi adapts a spectra of unusual and extended instrumental experiments to articulate uniquely animist sound arrangements, with judicious use of a ring modulator and delay effects only subtly altering his sound in real-time, gelling the harmonics and smoothing off its contours. Some 15 years of studies and accreted knowledge of histories, timelines, and spirits are deftly tattered in the air and rebound in precisely complex ribbons that become all the more impressive by virtue of its in-the-moment recording.

Presented with no overdubs, the six works were recorded by label head and KAKUHAN/goat lynchpin Koshiro Hino across three days of adventurous improvisation capturing the breadth of Tateishi’s vision in a mix of succinct flights of fancy and one durational wonder where he really cuts loose. An opening piece of rapid percussive fingering and rasping sets the tone for increasingly intricate explorations of the shinobue, and bluesy cadence of a reedy Thai khene - antecedent of the shō - whipped into headier harmonic overtones, whilst his 5th piece for Irish flute best recalls Ka Baird or Michael O’Shea’s lysergic impishness, and a 13 minute closing piece most boldly fucks with folk and jazz traditions, in-depth and with the genre short-circuiting audacity of Rahsaan Roland Kirk.

Landing in the wake of prism-shaking works by Will Guthrie & Mark Fell, goat (jp) and Kakuhan; Tateishi’s ‘Presence’ more than lives up to NAKID’s impressive levels, unflinchingly operating by its wits with a verve and dare-to-differ moxie that gets at it from the first hit to the last, harnessing the kind of skill and ingenuity that’s distinctive but still strikingly minimal and overwhelmingly physical. It's a remarkable achievement.

The Passion of the Christ is a 2004 biblical drama film by Mel Gibson with music composed by John Debney. The soundtrack received an Academy Award nomination for Best Original Score and it was on the first place in both Top Christian Albums and Top Soundtracks in 2004. In 2005, the album won a Dove Award for Instrumental album of the year at the 36th GMA Dove Awards. The soundtrack succeeds as a coherent, moving, well-executed musical statement whether or not one has seen the film. The album is a combination of folk instruments, Eastern-tinged harmonics, solo, and choral voices. Debney worked together with Indian master violinist and vocalist L. Shankar, and singer/double-violinist Gingger Shankar. The Passion of the Christ is available as a limited edition of 750 numbered copies on gold coloured vinyl and includes a 4-page booklet.

Preparing your debut full length record is no small undertaking for any artist. The format itself deserves a certain frame of mind and approach – it’s different, and with Sarah Wild’s debut LP she embraces the idea. Expanding her artistic vision to offer something different, making use of the format and bringing new ideas and musical pathways to her established sound. Releasing on her imprint Midnight Operators in early 2025 – My Body Flows In Gravity constitutes a sophisticated homage to the early 2000s trance movement, integrating nostalgic motifs with her ultra-on point production that sits perfect in todays scene.

From the dreamy proto-house vibes of the opener, establishing a foundation with its understated beats, to the Orbital-esk serenity of the title track My Body Flows In Gravity the album works at evoking the emotive resonance of a golden era of music reborn. This trip is backed up by the Early-Balearic styled tracks such as “Fly With Me To The Moon” and “Visit To Mars” which pull you into hazy smoked filled dancefloor territory, hypnotic melodic progressions effectively capture the essence of Trance’s peak cultural moment.

At the mid point “I Don’t Wanna Go” introduces a different dimension, exploring a more Euro sound that is at the peak of the contemporary scene, but infused with Sarah’s unique edge, hyper pumping beats work alongside spoken word to really up the tempo. Following this the journey returns to a more progressive feel, “Floating Around” and ” On My Way Home” take things into deeper territory, bringing the focus’s of the record back the groove after the blurry eyed highs. Bringing the record in for a perfect landing. There is an emotional duality to this record, a movement through a juxtaposition of yearning and almost frantic emotions alongside more uplifting harmonics through to more introspective moments. The final track “Landing” gracefully closes this arc.

Sarah Wild delivers a sonic journey as much concerned with the process as with the destination itself. My Body Flows In Gravity shows Wild’s capacity to synthesize the deeply personal with the universally resonant, a set of tracks that equally speak to the introspective solitude as they do to the collective euphoria of the dancefloor.