Suche:trace mountains

Into the Burning Blue, the fifth studio album from Trace Mountains, begins underwater. Songwriter Dave Benton was too. And though the songs were derived from a place of pain and heartbreak, Into the Burning Blue is an adventurous, bold, and groovy album about movement. Benton is at his most declarative, depicting his constant tread of water to stay afloat, and the occasional triumph that comes as reward. Pain often brings a new perspective on pleasure, and without the blues, joy wouldn't be as bright and elusive as it is. But excavation is essential to the new perspective, and you often need new tools to break out of the monochromatic mold. Into the Burning Blue is a testament to looking inward, embracing new methods, and accepting the help of your friends - no matter how hard they are to find.

In between the folds of ceremony and commonality lies a perennial spring of musical expression.

A statement along the time continuum, or a testament to the resilient resourcefulness embedded in that truth, forms the philosophical approach of this album – the first outing of Dídac.
Studying an extensive archive of instruments, artifacts, and field recordings at the Musée d’ethnographie de Genève—a space steeped in folkloric gesture – Dídac encountered a cosmos of liturgical music and folk song. Anchored in reverance for tradition and transformation alike, this album navigates the old-world Mediterranean lore through a post-modern ambient lens, threading drone, gentle rhythm, electroacoustic textures and the crude tactility of archival material into one woven tapestry.

Under the guidance of Dr. Madeleine Leclair, Dídac was invited to work within one of the world’s most extensive ethno- musicological archives—L’AIMP. In the saturated basements and tape-lined backrooms of the museum, he submerged himself in the sounds of ritual and rural life: wax cylinders from the Eastern Mediterranean, tapes of liturgical hymn, the worn edges of communal song.
In a makeshift studio on the fourth floor of the museum, he sifted through the hours of material he collected, gradually discovering that the archive was no static source – It did not dictate; rather, it served as a companion—offering not answers, but questions. Not a beaten track, but a cluster of sonic clues and riddles. Samples do appear occasionally, tenderly interwoven into the dialogue of the songs. In Dídac’s self-titled debut, the past is not worn as ornament or kitsch; it is listened to and responded to. The museum, its archives, and the visit to Geneva became a foundational culisse of sorts, igniting a myriad of rough cuts and improvisational outtakes.
Dídac, or Diego Ocejo Muñoz, was born in Madrid in 1994 to a family of both Catalan and Castilian origin.

Brought up in a religious household, the influence of the Catholic Church innately shaped the social fabric, schooling and daily life. This lingering dominance led the adolescent Diego into a path of rejection of everything sacramental, promptly resorting to subversion in the shape of grafitti, skateboarding and underground music. Only later in life, after a rigorous venture as an acid and electro producer, the Church re-emerged before him in new light, invoking a deep fascination for its mysticism, iconography and choral tradition.

Spain in general and Catalonia in particular, has long served as a crossroads of the eastern–western Mediterranean continuum, with many of its cultures sharing aspects of way of life and ceremony. At the MEG, Diego found himself puzzled with this realization, resulting in a sonic amalgamation that reaches farther away from the rugged mountains of Catalonia than you might perceive at first encounter.

The deeply embedded memory of rite and public ceremony, religious hymn and landscape—sieved through the undercurrent of personal re-emergence, forms the emotional topography of this album. The record does not trace this landscape; it inhabits it. Its repetitive mysticism and ambient, wide-eyed gaze could possibly evoke (perhaps redundant) comparisons to artists such as Dimitris Petsetakis, or Popol Vuh’s late 70’s cinema scores.
The delicate lines between the sacred and the secular – between memory and re-invention – serve as a cipher to understanding this album in its entirety. Titles like Malpàs Mines or Pantocrator’s Portal Outro nudge toward a folkloric and devotional bedrock—places where labor and spirituality coexist, where names preserve both dust and veneration.

Nevertheless, this is far from mere nostalgia. It is a reclamation — singing alongside the spirits of the past, nurturing what still hums beneath the soil. It is an intimate reflection on tradition, rebellion, adolescence, ceremony and fantasy – a pastoral contemplation on what once was and what is to be.

In a world where physical experiences are becoming rarer, artists are looking to connect their process to something more tangible, and with A/V rinsed, scent is an obvious next sense to plunder. Florian TM Zeisig - who last appeared on Somewhere Press as Angel R, goes the extra mile, teaming up with perfumer Angel Paradise to develop a suite of music that plays like a bouquet of memory-triggering aromas, coupled with a fragrance that captures the oily essence of their bucolic alpine setting. The project came about when both artists were living in Hinang, a small farming village in the rural Bavarian alps. Paradise was studying alpine plant behaviour and using her research to inform her approach to scent creation, developing natural perfumes based on the landscape. Zeisig, meantime, composed his own response to the mountains and forests that surrounded them. He wrote ‘Spool’ as a poignant farewell (or spiritual rebirth) as they prepared to leave, considering teenage nostalgia as well as the idyllic locale, and the pastoral suite of lulled loops, field recordings and dissociated instrumental vamps plays like a contemporary Heimatfilme soundtrack, locking into the genre’s idyllic, fantastical simplicity and romance. Drunken horn loops and mushy piano chords concertina around a wobbly axis on ‘Oneandhalf’, met by dreamy guitars and whispered, lysergic vocals. The sweet-smelling notes form an enigmatic compound, prompting us to think of Codeine or Galaxie 500 without solidifying completely. It’s music that works with outlines and traces, catching us off guard with flickers of samples and veiled base notes: the Cocteau Twins-like phased piano on ‘Threeandhalf’ that’s drowned out by gunked tape fog, or the smudges of ‘Spirit of Eden’ ambience on ‘Alright’ that creep between tweezed piano phrases. There’s depth too; Zeisig doesn’t restrict himself to Romance-cum-Basinski loopmuzak, he intersperses his GASeous orchestral waves with serene, relatively demure reflections that capture the pristine beauty of a dewy alpine morning. ‘Four’ is an ASMR-rich blend of crunching leaves and mossy, decelerated pads, and ‘Plus’ burns its drones down to crackling embers, letting the faint harmonies flicker through the coal dust. Importantly, it’s emotional music, but not overly melodramatic, finding peace in nostalgia and the calm of nature.

Born of a thousand nights lost in a surrender to stillness and contemplation, In The Air is Anna St. Louis’ second full length album and her most considered work yet. St. Louis’ debut If Only There Was a River seemed to emerge fully formed out of the recesses of her mind; a gritty, mesmerizing affair, filled with jagged edges and ghostly apparitions. The type of record that announces a new voice; one haunted by what has come before.

But this time, St. Louis is no longer concerned with what could have been and sets her sights to exploring what could be. It’s an outlook on the world that was formed when her immediate one was small. The intervening years since her last album found St. Louis in a small one-bedroom cabin in the middle of the woods of upstate New York with a new love and time to think of what she wanted to express with her music. For weeks on end, the only trips she took were to and from her job as the front desk clerk at a nearby hotel. The previous years she had spent on tour and performing constantly in the venues of Los Angeles felt like they had occurred in another lifetime.

“It really compelled me to surrender to the unknown,” she says. And in this surrender, she found liberation. St. Louis is more self-assured, open-hearted and ready to say what she wants. St. Louis describes the writing period as one of a slow harvest; a fertile time but one that required a newfound patience. Instead of documenting her first thoughts, she spent more time with each song, going deeper with the themes and ideas she wanted to express.

This slower approach also guided the sonic textures of the album. Working with producer Jarvis Taveniere (Purple Mountains, Woods) in two extended recording sessions in Los Angeles in 2021, St. Louis used the studio in a previously unexplored way, opening up her songs to more experimentation featuring brighter tones and a more orchestral sound to accompany her new perspective. To that end, she was aided by a cast of friends and collaborators including Jess Williamson, Kacey Johansing, Oliver Hill (Kevin Morby, Vagabon) on strings, Alex Fischel (Spoon) on piano, Josh Adams on drums (Bedouine, Tim Heidecker) and Keven Lareau (Cut Worms, Hand Habits).

In the Air has the sound of a joyous consideration of the present moment; a quiet morning revealing a new snowfall outside, steam coming from the kettle, just before it whistles, St. Louis with her guitar, staring out the window, with a few free hours before work. She’s reflecting on the scene in front of her, imagining the times yet to come. You can hear it; she’s a long way from the noisy bars of Los Angeles, the rigors of the road. As she intones in “Rest”: “You spend your whole life believing in the chase. And then you realize that being somewhere doesn’t matter like it used to.” She doesn’t need a river to carry her anymore ... She’s in the air.

Like a winding system of trails and paths cutting through a digital forest-scape, M. Sage's Paradise Crick is shaped by time. Full of wonder and charm, designed patiently and from a rich, curious mulch of synthesized and acoustic sound, the versatile American artist and magic realist's new suite of music is an imaginary destination and a pastoral fantasy that envisions the natural and fabricated worlds as one. Matthew Sage is a musician, intermedia artist, recording engineer and producer, publisher, teacher, partner, and parent. Assembling a sprawling and idiosyncratic catalog of experimental studio music between Colorado and Chicago since the early 2010s, recent highlights include The Wind of Things (Geographic North, 2021), an ensemble-recorded expression of bow-splashed nostalgia, and the four seasonal albums of Fuubutsushi, the improvisatory ambient jazz quartet he formed with friends from afar in 2020. Sage renders projects with nuanced velocity and a completist sensibility _ when it's finished, it's done _ which is what makes Paradise Crick, his debut for RVNG Intl., a compelling outlier. Sage first staked his tent in Crick's conceptual campground five years ago from his home studio in Chicago (he's since returned to Colorado, home to the mountains and prairies often personified in his work). He had just read Richard Brautigan's Trout Fishing in America, a kaleidoscopic reflection of pastoral America's shifting identity by way of magical fishing sojourns. Inspired by that feeling, of getting lost but finding oneself in through the outdoors, he amassed over seventy demos documenting a fictional soundtrack for camping. Pull up to this park, and the sign might read, "Welcome to Paradise Crick. Fire Danger Is Low." The sequence, pruned down to thirteen tracks, courses the dewy mornings, afternoon hikes, and firelit nights of a weekend expedition. While Sage is not a filmmaker, he views the method of making this album as a similar form of world-building via structure, narrative, formal elements, and editorial refinement. Contrasted with his collaborative craft, here he is a sole auteur reclined in total autonomy, able to improvise scenes and implement special effects at will. A parallel precedent for such unchecked imagination in the M. Sage canon is A Singular Continent, his 2014 album that tilted its compass to a faraway land. Where Continent built its world layering samples as composition, Paradise Crick deploys a balance of accessible song structures with experimental instrumentation and sound design. Speckled with harmonica, autoharp, chimes, penny whistle, voice, hand percussion, and other mysteries, Crick's texture is treated as a sensorial adventure; the swamps gurgle, the lakes glisten, and the valleys breathe in robust HD. The rhythms are loose and buoyant, bursting with a few `kick and snare' moments shaped by Sage's lifelong love for drumming and headphone prone electronic music. Crick bumps more than most anything he's done before; crackling static pulses and lush vibrations reveal an intrinsic groove, a hidden beat map. In the landscapes of Paradise Crick, science and magic co-exist, 5k boulders and midi frogs share the frame with real-life memories of Midwest camping trips and the desire to feel extra human in a digitized space. Sage strived for "nature in the holodeck" but couldn't help leaving fingerprints in the simulation, and it's these traces of spirit and character that give Paradise Crick its strange allure. The album's bubbling sense of play, melody, and timbre takes cues from left-field electronic lineage; synth pioneers like Tomita and Raymond Scott up through the more expressive pop tendencies of Woo, Stereolab and the Cocteau Twins, and into contemporary composers like Sam Prekop. The album's vocabulary is uncomplicated; the gestures are sweet and inviting, intended to lull the listener. As much as Sage continues to be an experimentalist by nature in his work, with Paradise Crick, he spins a narrative. Not necessarily a concept album, but rather an invitation to take off for a weekend. That's the modus operandi down here in the Crick, we stretch out. M. Sage's Paradise Crick will be released May 26, 2023 in LP, CD, and digital editions. A portion of the proceeds from this release will benefit Earthjustice, the premier nonprofit public interest environmental law organization.

Limited Loser edition on dark green vinyl. There are times in our life when we feel magic in the air. When new love arrives, or we find ourselves lost in a moment of creation with others who share our vision. A sense that: this is who I want to be. This is what I want to share. It's a fleeting feeling and one that Kyle Thomas, the singer-songwriter who records and performs as King Tuff, found himself longing for in the spring of 2020. But knowing he couldn't simply recreate this time in his life at will, Thomas-who hails from Brattleboro, Vermont-set out to write a love letter to those cherished moments of inspiration and to the small town that formed him. The one where he first nurtured his songwriting impulses, bouncing ideas off other like-minded artists. The kind of place where the changing of the seasons always delivered a sense of perspective and fresh artistic inspiration. Where he felt a deeper connection with nature and sense of community that had once been so close at hand. And so, Thomas seized upon his memories, creating what he calls "an album about love and nature and youth." The result is Smalltown Stardust, a spiritual, tender and ultimately joyous record that might come as a shock to those with only a passing knowledge of the artist's back catalog. On Smalltown Stardust, Thomas takes us on his journey to a place where past and present collide, where he can be a dreamer in love with all that he sees. References to his Brattleboro upbringing abound, but at the core of Smalltown Stardust is Thomas's desire to commune with nature on a spiritual level. Images of the natural world, from blizzards to green mountains to cloudy days, fill the songs. "I consider nature to be my religion," he explains, and Smalltown Stardust is nothing if not a spiritual exploration. While so much of Smalltown Stardust invokes idealized traces and places of Thomas's past, the album's recording process made his communal vision a reality. Thomas's Los Angeles home in 2020 formed a micro-scene of sorts, with housemates Meg Duffy (Hand Habits) and Sasami Ashworth recording their own heralded albums (2021's Fun House and 2022's Squeeze, respectively) at the same time. A shared spirit dominated an era spent largely on the premises, with Thomas serving as engineer and contributor to both records, and Ashworth working as co-producer on Smalltown Stardust. Ashworth's contributions are vital to the album: she co-wrote a majority of the record and contributed vocals, arrangements, and instrumentation to each song. In the end, Smalltown Stardust is not merely a nostalgia trip. Thomas not only conjured a special time in his life, he found new inspiration, surrounded by collaborators and a sense of love and wonder for nature. If the first King Tuff record was content to merely state Thomas was no longer dead, Smalltown Stardust is a paean to what that life means. A statement of belief and a hymnal to the magic still to behold all around us.

There are times in our life when we feel magic in the air. When new love arrives, or we find ourselves lost in a moment of creation with others who share our vision. A sense that: this is who I want to be. This is what I want to share. It's a fleeting feeling and one that Kyle Thomas, the singer-songwriter who records and performs as King Tuff, found himself longing for in the spring of 2020. But knowing he couldn't simply recreate this time in his life at will, Thomas-who hails from Brattleboro, Vermont-set out to write a love letter to those cherished moments of inspiration and to the small town that formed him. The one where he first nurtured his songwriting impulses, bouncing ideas off other like-minded artists. The kind of place where the changing of the seasons always delivered a sense of perspective and fresh artistic inspiration. Where he felt a deeper connection with nature and sense of community that had once been so close at hand. And so, Thomas seized upon his memories, creating what he calls "an album about love and nature and youth." The result is Smalltown Stardust, a spiritual, tender and ultimately joyous record that might come as a shock to those with only a passing knowledge of the artist's back catalog. On Smalltown Stardust, Thomas takes us on his journey to a place where past and present collide, where he can be a dreamer in love with all that he sees. References to his Brattleboro upbringing abound, but at the core of Smalltown Stardust is Thomas's desire to commune with nature on a spiritual level. Images of the natural world, from blizzards to green mountains to cloudy days, fill the songs. "I consider nature to be my religion," he explains, and Smalltown Stardust is nothing if not a spiritual exploration. While so much of Smalltown Stardust invokes idealized traces and places of Thomas's past, the album's recording process made his communal vision a reality. Thomas's Los Angeles home in 2020 formed a micro-scene of sorts, with housemates Meg Duffy (Hand Habits) and Sasami Ashworth recording their own heralded albums (2021's Fun House and 2022's Squeeze, respectively) at the same time. A shared spirit dominated an era spent largely on the premises, with Thomas serving as engineer and contributor to both records, and Ashworth working as co-producer on Smalltown Stardust. Ashworth's contributions are vital to the album: she co-wrote a majority of the record and contributed vocals, arrangements, and instrumentation to each song. In the end, Smalltown Stardust is not merely a nostalgia trip. Thomas not only conjured a special time in his life, he found new inspiration, surrounded by collaborators and a sense of love and wonder for nature. If the first King Tuff record was content to merely state Thomas was no longer dead, Smalltown Stardust is a paean to what that life means. A statement of belief and a hymnal to the magic still to behold all around us.

Tape

There are times in our life when we feel magic in the air. When new love arrives, or we find ourselves lost in a moment of creation with others who share our vision. A sense that: this is who I want to be. This is what I want to share. It's a fleeting feeling and one that Kyle Thomas, the singer-songwriter who records and performs as King Tuff, found himself longing for in the spring of 2020. But knowing he couldn't simply recreate this time in his life at will, Thomas-who hails from Brattleboro, Vermont-set out to write a love letter to those cherished moments of inspiration and to the small town that formed him. The one where he first nurtured his songwriting impulses, bouncing ideas off other like-minded artists. The kind of place where the changing of the seasons always delivered a sense of perspective and fresh artistic inspiration. Where he felt a deeper connection with nature and sense of community that had once been so close at hand. And so, Thomas seized upon his memories, creating what he calls "an album about love and nature and youth." The result is Smalltown Stardust, a spiritual, tender and ultimately joyous record that might come as a shock to those with only a passing knowledge of the artist's back catalog. On Smalltown Stardust, Thomas takes us on his journey to a place where past and present collide, where he can be a dreamer in love with all that he sees. References to his Brattleboro upbringing abound, but at the core of Smalltown Stardust is Thomas's desire to commune with nature on a spiritual level. Images of the natural world, from blizzards to green mountains to cloudy days, fill the songs. "I consider nature to be my religion," he explains, and Smalltown Stardust is nothing if not a spiritual exploration. While so much of Smalltown Stardust invokes idealized traces and places of Thomas's past, the album's recording process made his communal vision a reality. Thomas's Los Angeles home in 2020 formed a micro-scene of sorts, with housemates Meg Duffy (Hand Habits) and Sasami Ashworth recording their own heralded albums (2021's Fun House and 2022's Squeeze, respectively) at the same time. A shared spirit dominated an era spent largely on the premises, with Thomas serving as engineer and contributor to both records, and Ashworth working as co-producer on Smalltown Stardust. Ashworth's contributions are vital to the album: she co-wrote a majority of the record and contributed vocals, arrangements, and instrumentation to each song. In the end, Smalltown Stardust is not merely a nostalgia trip. Thomas not only conjured a special time in his life, he found new inspiration, surrounded by collaborators and a sense of love and wonder for nature. If the first King Tuff record was content to merely state Thomas was no longer dead, Smalltown Stardust is a paean to what that life means. A statement of belief and a hymnal to the magic still to behold all around us.

Mastered from the original master tapes and pressed at RTI on dead-quiet 180g vinyl, Mobile Fidelity's numbered-edition 180g LP of Local Hero gives the beloved effort audiophile-grade sound on a par with the reference-quality sonics afforded Dire Straits' Mobile Fidelity reissues. In each arrangement, Knopfler's methodical guitar lines emerge with supreme transparency and multi-hued textural detail. The intricate notes, finger-picked passages, and cosmopolitan lines come across as if they're transmitted just feet away from you in real time.

Ditto the diverse accompaniment, including the Celtic-themed effects, supplemental jazz accents, and folk inflections. The keys to the nearly 44-minute effort's success and continuity relate not only to Knoplfer's laidback style and low-key approach, but his ear for uncanny melody and blues traces. Woven acoustically and electrically, his tapestries benefit from the newfound airiness, openness, and balance that live on this reissue. No matter the instrument or treatment, the music arrives with pinpoint imaging and vibrant liveliness. Close your eyes, and the Mobile Fidelity version of Local Hero projects movies in your head.

For instance, take the closing "Going Home," a cherished instrumental whose proud spirit resonates with English football fans and features saxophone playing by the late, great Michael Brecker. Heard before every Newcastle United F.C. home game, it has become an anthem on both sides of the Atlantic. Or, look to "The Ceilidh: Louis' Favorite Billy's Tune" on which Scottish-flavored vibes and dance tempos conjure a festive jig until a transition gives the number a more subdued, romantic feel. Then, the pattern repeats. Seeking to expand beyond the parameters of Dire Straits, Knoplfer taps into a global economy of structures and sounds, and takes anyone with a sense of adventure along for the ride.

Not that his hallmark six-string is absent from the proceedings. It frames the lovely tin-pan whistle motif of the aptly titled "Whistle Theme," acts as a beacon for the elegant, vibraphone-kissed "Smooching," and pushes forward the jovial, top-down momentum of "Freeway Flyer," among other highlights. Knopfler also receives assistance from session pros Mike Mainieri, Steve Jordan, and Terry Williams, as well as vocalist Gerry Rafferty on the set's sole vocal tune, "That's the Way It Always Starts."

‘Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You’ is a sprawling album exploring the deepest elements and possibilities of Big Thief. To truly dig into all that the music of Adrianne Lenker, Max Oleartchik, Buck Meek and James Krivchenia desired in 2020, the band decided to write and record a rambling account of growth as individuals, musicians and chosen family over four distinct recording sessions.

 In Upstate New York, Topanga Canyon, The Rocky Mountains, and Tucson, Arizona, Big Thief spent five months in creation and came out with 45 completed songs. The most resonant of this material was edited down into the 20 tracks that make up ‘Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You’, a fluid and adventurous listen.

 The album was produced by drummer James Krivchenia, who initially pitched the recording concept for ‘Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You’ back in late 2019 with the goal of encapsulating the many different aspects of Adrianne’s songwriting and the band onto a single record.

 The attempt to capture something deeper, wider and full of mystery points to the inherent spirit of Big Thief. Traces of this open-hearted, non-dogmatic faith can be felt through previous albums but here on ‘Dragon New Warm Mountain I Believe In You’ lives the strongest testament to its existence.

The 20th milestone release in the Generation Series lineup, this 5-LP abridged set features 82 tracks that play in the first half of Shenmue III, which takes place in Bailu Village. Comes in a top lid box (similar to recent Generation Series releases from Brave Wave) with liner notes, archival artwork and a digital download code for all 196 tracks.

Lucrecia Dalt's Anticlines is a volume of bodily and geological substrates within poetic theory and sound. It is a place where skins and minerals dissolve and commingle, where gaseous subterranean leaks inflate lungs, where brain cavities echo interplanetary waves bent from passing through atmospheres.

A former geotechnical engineer from Colombia currently residing in Berlin, Dalt's concern with boundaries and edges shape the lyrics and music of Anticlines, her sixth album. Paying careful attention to pace, breath, and texture, Dalt microtonally shifts the distance between speech and song while using traditional South American rhythms to support her contemporary electronic composition.

Lucrecia arrived at the atmosphere of Anticlines after several months of studying and creating new patches for the Clavia Nord Modular, forming a rhythmic feedback flow with it, a Moogerfooger MuRF, and her voice. The overall effect of cavernous space backdroping Dalt's intimate vocal phrasing rewards contemplation, supported in the physical formats of Anticlines by a lyric booklet documenting Lucrecia's collaboration with Australian artist Henry Andersen.

The album opens with Edge,' bordering on a pathological circlusion of self upon other. The lyrics depart from the Colombian myth of El Boraro, an Amazonian monster who turns its victims insides to pulp before sucking them dry and inflating their bodies like balloons to lifelessly float away. Tar' ponders human dependence on earth at the boundary of the heliopause, where to inhale might be like breathing tar. Dalt's distant and obscured vocals end with, we touched only as atmospheres touch.'

The sonic rise and fall of Analogue Mountains' is inspired by martian traces found in Antarctica embedded by meteorite ALH84001, suggesting that we might well be living in mountains transferred from Mars.' The steadily winding music on Concentric Nothings' descends with the lyrical exercise of dissolution let my touch be indistinct and instinctive.'

Interspersed with the lyrical pieces of Anticlines are instrumental interstitials that demonstrate preceding concepts — as if to say, this is what antiforms sound like, and this is what the universe's indifference sounds like.' Dalt's ongoing experiments with visual artist Regina de Miguel support these ideas, their practice allowing the objects of their attention to slip in and out of being.

Mystic of matter, Lucrecia Dalt has previously performed and worked with Julia Holter and Gudrun Gut, her slippery spoken word and performative nature recalling the work of Laurie Anderson, Robert Ashley, Asmus Tietchens, or Lena Platonos. While touching stones, The Thing by Dylan Trigg, Cascade Experiment by Alice Fulton, and Wretched of the Screen by Hito Steyerl are but a few formative scripts that support Dalt's exploration of the betwixt and between.

In preparing a live set for Anticlines, Dalt plans to stage an uninterrupted configuration, like a kind of alienated lecture, aiming for gestures that create tensions with non-existent objects.' Dalt intends to provide meaning and a place for the listener to meditate or relate to the concerns and ideas' she presents.

- Lucrecia Dalt is a Colombian recording artist, songwriter, and producer.
- After studying civil engineering in Colombia, Dalt worked at a geo-technical company for two years and has since lived in Barcelona and Berlin, where she currently resides.
- She has released five solo albums and has collaborated with musicians Julia Holter, Laurel Halo and Rashad Becker, to name a few.
- Dalt has composed for sound design installations and performance pieces for institutions such as the Santa Monica Art Centre, Reina Sofia Museum and the Maisterravalbuena gallery of Madrid, in collaboration with visual artist Regina de Miguel.
- Anticlines is Dalt's sixth solo record, and her first on RVNG Intl., following the release of 2015's Ou.
- Anticlines explores the boundaries and limitations of human consciousness. The album's poetic lyrics were written collaboratively between Dalt and Henry Andersen during a weekend in Brussels, Belgium.