Saphileaum - The Traveler

Silent Season: 2019

I've had Saphileaum's The Traveler for some time, bought among a bundle that included Beat Pharmacy's Safety In Dub, Mohlao's Landforms, and Wanderwelle's Lost In A Sea Of Trees. Items I reviewed two years ago now. Why, then, did I skip this one? Some weird quirk of my convoluted queuing system? Nay, 'tis a sillier reason: I simply forgot I had it.

As The Traveler is a digital-only release, I assume it got lost among all the other 'travel' albums in my folders (Travel The Galaxy, Traveler '03, Traveller, Travelling Without Moving... bonus points if you can I.D. what artists those are tied to!). Only now, during this run through the 'T's, did I realize I missed Saphileaum's EP. Oopsie on me, but that sometimes happens when I don't have a physical copy to confirm I actually bought something. And y'all wonder why I held off on the buying digital for so long.

Anyhow, Saphileaum. There's a lot of history behind this project of Andro Gogibedashvili, at least according to his Discoggian bio. More than I'm willing to divulge here, if I'm honest. Perhaps his biggest claim to fame (aside from being the grandson of one of Georgia's most popular singers, Temur Tsiklauri), is having a snippet of one of his tracks sent out into space, directed at a Neptune-like planet orbiting a red dwarf called K2-18. Huh, seems a bit random. Why not an Earth-like exoplanet, like Gliese 667Cc, or Trappist-1E, or Kepler-69C (nice). Guess the waiting list to transmit to those locations is a tad longer.

Anyhow, after spending some time floating about net-labels like Norite, Controlled Violence, and Oslated, Andro landed on Silent Season with a debut of The Traveler. And what an interesting debut it is, treading into sonic territory I've yet to hear the label venture into. Sure, opener Golden Tunic seems to follow upon similar, spacious dubby aesthetics so often heard throughout Silent Season's history, but there's something oh-so relaxing, calming, and soothing about these gentle synth pads and soft tribal rhythms. It's ambient dub, but for the New Age sect. Not that we haven't heard mystical-leaning music out of this print before, but almost always with a dub techno approach. Saphileaum shows almost no techno-fetishism in his songcraft, dub merely used to enhance the spacious vistas he creates. And boy howdy, does he create some deep spaces indeed.

That said, the tracks making up The Traveler do run a tad samey throughout. Establish a steady rhythm with a meditative melody and twilight field recordings, then subtly loop them for around six minutes each, throwing in a few rolling drum fills, layers of harmonic drone, and echo effects for flavour. It's all finely crafted, no doubt, but once you catch onto the Saphileaum stylee, you won't hear much deviation from it. Fortunately, The Traveler doesn't grow long in tooth either, wrapping up in a tidy seven tracks. A perfect length for a nice stroll through ancient forest paths.

Tomas Jirku - Touching The Sublime

Silent Season: 2020

Continuing my ever so slow backtrack through Silent Season's catalogue, it's time for the third-to-last item the label released before going into presumed mothballs. Look, it's just a weird coincidence things turned out this way - I guarantee my next reviews from this label won't be Night Sea's Still or Yuka's Moon Song. Although, I see no reason why not, both still available as digital downloads. For how much longer though? While Silent Season doesn't look to close shop anytime soon, the lack of recent activity is cause for some concern. I'd hate to pop over to their Bandcamp and suddenly find *Snap!*, as if it never were.

Anyhow, here's Tomas Jirku's Touching The Sublime, a rather unique item in the Silent Season canon, and I'm not just talking the music. No, this album has the distinction of having a photo book tie-in, which... actually makes a whole lot of sense. Think about it: what's one of this label's defining characteristics? The plethora of naturalist beauty shots, of course. Yeah, the music within has always been class, but what really sold the idea of said music coming from some mystical land of the Pacific Northwest was the steady stream of picturesque scenery adorning the cover art. And now here's a whole darn book of them! I was oh-so tempted in buying one, if the $100 price tag hadn't pushed it to the back-burner of my To Buy bin before they were all bought up. Oh well, guess I'll settle for the CD.

It's a hard one to peg down though. Mr. Jirku released a number of items throughout the '00s, but seemed to go relatively quiet on the music front in the following decade. Lord Discogs lists Touching The Sublime as his first album after a ten year gap, though a smattering of singles filled the space between, consisting of everything from microhouse to dub techno to glitch-fuzz. And while what he offers here definitely fits within Silent Season mould, there's a restrained opulence to his productions that places Touching The Sublime well outside their typical dub techno lane.

Seriously, The Iliad & The Odyssey and Pele & Surtr go full-on orchestral in portions, but as filtered through a submarine turbine. And gosh, are Idiis Mortii, Entropy8, and Hypoxia ever getting on some dark ambient drone action. Even the opener, A Warm Place, is all sorts of moody and foreboding, almost deadly silent before blasting you with a massive wave of atonal drone. If Touching The Sublime was that sort of album throughout, this could have gone down as one of Silent Season's most daring albums ever, especially when coupled with a lovely picture book. However, tracks like Tectonic Monument, Eyeless Through Space, and other portions of Pele & Surtr (at thirteen minutes, it's the longest track here – plenty of space to indulge) do get on some 'typical dub techno' breaded butter. Guess the rest was just a bit too much for the label's regulars to handle.

Owl - Infinite Horizon

Silent Season: 2021

I brought this up in the last Silent Season review I did (Daar's Entire), but man, has there ever been a lasting drought from this label. Daar's album remains the 'final' item they released, while this Infinite Horizon from Owl is only a month older. I feel like I'll have gone through the entire Silent Season back-catalogue in reverse order before they release something new. You think I'm joking, but Tomas Jirku's Touching The Sublime is also in my queue, currently the 'fourth-to-last' item from the label. Ooh, and now the OCD compels me to grab the digital-only Moon Song EP from Yuka, just to claim I have all these in proper order. Or heck, why not drop a hundred bones on the entire Bandcamp collection? Sure, I already have twenty out of the sixty-seven releases, but I'm gonna' need something to satisfy my Silent Season fix in their ongoing absence.

Owl is Pierre Nesi, a chap who's released a scattershot amount of material over the past decade. He had an earlier, modestly successful run making drum 'n' bass and future garage with fellow Belgian Lucas D'Haeyaert as Glÿph (yikes, guys, change that Discogs photo! You look right out of an Aphex Twin video). Seems the Owl alias emerged as a means of exploring the more atmospheric elements of his muse, with rhythms more on the downbeat. He made a debut on Silent Season as part of their 10 Year Collection series of vinyl releases, returning half a decade later for there here seven track debut solo album.

As this is a Silent Season release, I went into Infinite Horizon fully expecting to hear things like fuzzy field recordings, layers of dubby timbre, and maybe even some of techno's rhythmic pulse. Sure enough, opener Moonshine Haze provides that, but gosh, why does that distant howl put my nerves on edge? There's still some sense of hazy, grey-tone melancholy to Mr. Nesi's choice of synth harmony, which fits that omnipresent coastal rainforest vibe I've long associated with the label. There's just something oddly bleak about it too.

And that tone doesn't let up in following tracks Glimpse Of Decline and Losing Cohesion. Despite moments of melodic respite (dashes of spritely bells in Decline, the sound of chirping birds in Cohesion), there's still an overwhelming sense of depression. Heck, I'll just come right out and say Two Lands is out-and-out dark ambient, the sort you might hear on a Cryo Chamber cinematic drone release.

I can't say that's the dominate tone of Infinity Horizon though. Hidden Forest is a straight up dub techno cut in the classic Silent Season wide-screen ambient vein, while Distant Transmission and the titular cut go more for the reflective ambient dub outings. Overall, this seven tracker hits most of the vintage vibes you'd expect out of this label. I just have never heard Silent Season go as dark as Two Lands before. Makes me wonder what else I might have missed over the years.

Daar - Entire

Silent Season: 2021

Does anyone else get the sense Silent Season is slipping some? Not that I'd blame the little label from the Sunshine Coast having a fallow period. After the avalanche of activity that was the mid-'10s, however, these last couple years have been comparatively quiet. The last 'big ticket' item in their catalogue was Segue's The Island, almost three years ago now. 2021 saw just two albums released, and both quite early at that. In fact, this particular LP from Daar is already over a year old, and thus far the label's last. With a gap of fourteen months and counting, you'd be forgiven for thinking something's gone a little askew in Silent Season land. Again, maybe it's just well-deserved downtime after fifteen years in the business, but I do hope some news comes from their camps sooner rather than later.

Anyhow, Daar. One Álvaro Aragonés, there isn't much to go on from his Discoggian data. Self-released a couple albums on vinyl, plus a handful of tape singles along the way. Seems more active doing radio broadcasts out of Madrid, if his Soundcloud is anything to go by. Essentially a talent on the rise, with his debut on Silent Season possibly the greatest exposure he's yet gained abroad.

And opener Waves Your Back Describes is mostly familiar territory where this label's concerned. Dubbed-out field recordings, the sounds of tree foliage rustling as critters among the leaves chatter with each other. Waves gently lapping at shorelines, children distantly playing among themselves. And through it all, a singular synth pad glides along, imparting a feeling calming, melancholic isolation. Basically more North Shore grey, drizzly weather than Sunshine Coast. Now I feel like the cover art is what the world looks like from the inside of a bus during a heavy storm.

Follow-up Sea Wind is less heavy on the field recordings, though the odd, arrhythmic pitter-patter that opens does sound like sporadic splatter of rain dripping from an overhang. This one's mostly soft, airy pads and drones, with subtle synth pulses gradually gaining in prominence as the track plays out. Getting some major Substrata-era Biosphere out of this one. One field recording heavy Interlude later, and we're suddenly in Berlin-School territory with Mars Love. Yeah, there's some dub effects on those percolating synths, but that's about the extent of the track. Mellow Green Eyed Soul is in a similar vein, though heavier on the rhythmic aspect of the synths in use.

Another Interlude later, where the pad drone is so quiet, you'd be hard pressed to hear anything at all, and we're already in the final stretch of Entire. Gosh, did this album ever go by quick – are we sure this isn't an EP? I've sure been reviewing it as such, track-by-track and all. Anyhow, the titular tune features shimmering synth drone, a soft drum kick, and a spritely melody that's a nice contrast to the earlier moodiness. Coda is about as you'd expect, wrapping up a tidy little album from Daar.

ASC - The Waves

Silent Season: 2019

I've already blagged on about the wild notion that ASC has racked up multiple ambient albums. Heck, I was astounded by the few he'd released by 2015's Fervent Dream, and Mr. Clements hasn't stopped, pretty much every long-player of his now exploring beatless music. At first I thought, well, that's just what he releases through Silent Season. Surely whatever gets promoted via his own Auxiliary brings the d'n'b or even dub techno (as you do), but nope. You have to go to labels like Horo and Samurai Music to find that (not to mention the oodles of ASC EPs still delivering the broken-beat business abroad).

All well and good then, James finding multiple outlets for his various muses now. I'm not that surprised his past decade of music-making has led to this. No, what's flummoxing my brainpan now is somehow, someway, ASC has become Silent Season's lone Ambient Guy.

And you may ask, how is that possible? There's plenty of artists on the label that offer chill dronescapes with their dub techno beats. Absolutely there are, but in all that time, no other artist has released as many LPs of straight-up ambient music, and nothing but straight-up ambient music. That officially makes ASC their Ambient Guy, all the more remarkable considering James had been a fairly dedicated jungle guy before hooking up with Silent Season.

The Waves marks his sixth outing with the label now, this time an exploration of all things aquatic. Well, maybe not all things, but a pretty good range of regions. From the oceanic surface of the Surface Blue, the the blackest depths of the Hadal Zone, trenches deeper than the abyssal plain. What unfathomable horrors dwell in such unforgiving regions, such that not even the dreaded hagfish wanders forthwith? Slugs, mostly. Some shrimp, probably. Plus that one show-off fish that survives where nothing that size should. Always that one fish...

The music within does impart a sense of gently drifting through various wonders and splendours. From surveying towering Seamounts, to foraging through a mysterious Kelp Forest. Even making one feel nestled within the mechanical confines of a deep sea probe in Echo Location, all the while strange, lovely, bio-luminescent critters float by. Elsewhere, pieces like Nautical Depths, Marine Layer, and Ocean Shadow imparts feelings of isolation, lost adrift in an endless void, but not so cold as space drone goes. No, you still feel the warm embrace of life all around you, but just out of sight, only detectable by those with senses adapted to this aquatic realm. Oh, what wondrous creatures we may see in such- Ahh! A vampire squid!

So another excellent album of ambient from ASC. It almost seems too easy for him now. Is it just a higher batting average because these albums come out on Silent Season? A case of a prestigious label getting the best of what an artist can offer because of the associative rep? May need to scope out his Auxiliary outings to confirm.

Toki Fuko - Spring Ray

Silent Season: 2019

Not to get all 'I remember when...' on y'all here, but we truly live in a remarkable era of music consumption. Used to be an album was the same no matter which format you sprung for. It wasn't long before musicians and their labels realized certain formats could hold more music than others, so you'd get 'bonus tracks' on a CD over a record. Then the domain of digital exclusives burst the dams like never before, albums of obscene lengths that no one in their right mind would ever want to listen to in single sittings. Okay, such monstrosities are uncommon, but for those weaned on physical medium, it can come off excessive.

Toki Fuko's debut on Silent Season doesn't go to those extremes, but Spring Ray does have a rather quirky roll-out. The vinyl version contains four takes: the original, Deduction, Outtake, and Reshape. Each eat up one side of a record, making it a double-LP. Meanwhile, the CD features just two tracks of its own, Induction and Spatial Awareness. Whereas the vinyl tracks were about a dozen minutes each, these last a half-hour each. So clearly, exclusive to the CD, though there was room to add at least one of the vinyl cuts too. Why not at least the original? Guess Silent Season wanted each medium to be unique, or maximize sales across all formats, but don't worry! Folks who abstain from one physical item over another (*cough*) can get them all with the digital version!

And how does Spring Ray sound to warrant so many interpretations? The original certainly is in Silent Season's wheel-house, a spacious, dubby outing of laid-back grooves and subtly shifting sounds, a general sense of tranquility while lost wandering among mysterious, moss-covered rainforests. It doesn't seem like much to hang an additional ninety minutes of music off of, but this Toki Fuko (real name Sergey Korotaev), he's a crafty one in his studio.

Deduction keeps things firmly in the Silent Season stylee of chill dub techno, with a bit more urban flair added with subtle samples of city sounds. Outtake has a jazzier vibe going for it, what with distant trumpets and chants, all the while rhythms looser in their swaying groove, and Reshape... Gosh, is this ever a meditative slice of tribal, dubby music. For some reason, I keep thinking Psychick Warriors Ov Gaia, even though PWoG only seldom went this chill. I can easily see myself grooving to this outdoors in some primal gathering though, crusties jamming on jembes while chai is brewing nearby.

By contrast, the two thirty minute versions don't have as much to talk about. Induction takes elements of the original and Outtake, and stretches things out for an extended jam, while Spatial Awareness does the same but in dub techno's domain. They're both solid sessions, at no point feeling like Fuko's aimlessly wandering as the tracks play out, even if they can't help but fade into the background. Which given Toki's musical manifesto, may be the point.

Beat Pharmacy - Safety In Dub

Silent Season: 2020

Ah, a simple digital EP from Silent Season. These feel so retro, so quaint from them now. They're almost a relic of a bygone era when the label was just finding its footing, before they made the jump to physical medium. Almost everything they release now gets a CD or vinyl option, but as this item came out shortly after the start of ~THE PANDEMIC~, perhaps Silent Season couldn't get the necessary pressing plant time booked for a record roll-out? Nah, that's just a coincidence, I'm sure.

Still, this isn't the first time Beat Pharmacy has appeared on the label. Under his birth name of Brendon Moeller, he released the Arcadian Rhythms EP back in 2017. That did get a vinyl option, in the thick of Silent Season's SSX series of back and white records. Aww, Beat Pharmacy didn't get the same love? I mean, it is an older alias, the one Brendon primarily used throughout the '00s. The albums he released on Deep Space Media practically kept the François K's sub-label afloat, with plenty of explorations in the various facets of dub as it stood back then. Seriously, a number of tracks off Earthly Delights or Constant Pressure could fit snuggly in a Swayzak set. Dammit, that's two more album's triggering my collector's itch now.

Deep Space Media folded before the 00's came to a close, but by then Mr. Moeller was moving onto dub techno as Echologist as well as his own name. Still, he brought out Beat Pharmacy for occasional singles on labels like Echocord Colour, ZamZam Sounds, Solardisco, and Throne Of Blood (blood throne!?!), each just as wayward in dabbling in dub as his earlier albums were. One could go as dub techno as Echologist, another as peppy as Hed Kandi house. So we could expect almost anything out of Beat Pharmacy's Silent Season debut, though it's pretty safe hazarding a guess it'll lean more towards the techno side of things than anything purely roots.

Not so much opener Carried Along, one of those ultra-deep, smooth ridin' downtempo dub outings, with little more than whispy synth-pads gently moving through the beats like a breeze through the trees. Generating Love feels more conventional where chilled out dub techno is concerned, more of an abstract exploration of echo and reverb with nothing but a bassline as a rudder. By contrast, the titular Safety In Dub almost comes off like a throwback to some of Beat Pharmacy's jazzier material from ye' olden days, more going on in the percussion even if the dubbed-out synths remain fixated on stretching their tones as far as musically possible. Closing out with the minimalist techno pulse of Tape Syndicate is fine, but there aren't enough things done with reverb washes to sustain eight minutes of interest.

Overall, Safety In Dub is an okay EP, but I still find myself more drawn to older Beat Pharmacy material. At least this one gave me an excuse to scope some of it out.

Wanderwelle - Lost In A Sea Of Trees

Silent Season: 2017

Another significant item from Silent Season's 'let's shake shit up' period. Not only was Wanderwelle's debut among the first forays into LP vinyl releases, but the first to try original artwork too. Okay, I've already said that on the Gathering Of the Ancient Spirits album, but that was a whole two years ago, which in 202x time, may as well be half a decade. Still, I bring it up again because all things considered, Lost In A Sea Of Trees was a major item when it came for the label. Maybe not Pacifica significant, but certainly up there.

Which leaves me feeling just a tad disappointed by it, if I'm honest. I still vibe on it, but Gathering Of The Ancient Spirits was my introduction to Wanderwelle, and I like that one more than this. With more attention paid to soft, mythical tribal percussion, the duo's sophomore effort had a remarkable affect upon my headspace, transporting me to a place and time upon Polynesian islands that never really existed. Lost In A Sea Of Trees attempts this too, focusing on the darkened woods of old Europa, but the music adheres to minimalist dub techno aesthetics just a little too rigidly for me to get those same feels.

Saying that this album 'feels off' isn't really a detriment either, Misters Bartels and van Dulm specifically crafting the music to create a sense of unease. Indeed, ancient forests of their homeland often imparted such unnerving imaginative tales, which seems at odds with Silent Season's usual manifesto. Yeah, we have our own dense, untamed foliage in the Pacific Northwest, but little of the fearful folklore associated with it. Our forests are not cavernous domains filled with the vile and abhorrent, but a primal, purer place, where concepts of civilization are simply subsumed by towering pines, flowing ferns, and thick mosses. You are not consumed by it, but merely merge with the nature surrounding you, becoming part of it. At least, that's how the hippie, mystical sorts in the region tell it (not to mention those who've lived here thousands of years prior).

Guess you gotta' be here to truly experience it. Point being, when I get 'lost in a sea of trees' out in the hinterlands of British Columbia, it doesn't come with feelings of apprehension, but wonderment. And Silent Season's many releases expertly capture that feeling.

Anyhow, opener The Starry Night does a good job setting the mood, a gentle pad lead riding on subtle sounds and soft rhythms. Things go more mysterious on Where The Wind Howls and Through The Meadow, while we get into more ominous dub techno territory with Lured By An Unsen Presence. We actually stay in this vein for much of the remaining album, only lifted out of the darkened woods with closer The Domovoi. In all, a neat sonic jaunt through foreboding terrain, but for me personally, not as captivating as I was hoping for. I've taken far too many forested trips, I guess.

Mohlao - Landforms

Silent Season: 2017

This album feels like Silent Season going back to its earliest dub techno roots. No, earlier than Pacifica. No, earlier than the first Wandering Compilation. I'm talking those initial digital singles, before they added Pacific northwest artwork, giving the label its distinct style. Back when dub techno was more a hot trend than a way of life, erm, a brand to build a label out of. And while Silent Season wouldn't outright abandon the sound, more elements of ambient and melody would continue creeping in, such that the more clinical mid-'00s style became a mere afterthought.

In the back-burner the genre was kept though, such that when Silent Season started feeling that vinyl itch, it made sense to release techno tools of this sort in the format. There was even a ten year anniversary roll-out of numerous vinyl, letting folks know they were serious about providing fresh material for the black crack fiends who'd been clamouring for the format. Naturally, I skipped out on all these because I don't buy vinyl, yet held out going digital just in case Silent Season opted for a CD option at some point down the road. That still hasn't happened, and I guess I'm just deluding myself into thinking it ever well happen – this label isn't really known for its re-issues. Very well then, some digital buys of items I've missed, then.

And Landforms from Mohlao felt like a no-brainer for yours truly. Artwork reminiscent of Ultimae's forays into geological porn, dorky track titles like Rotar, Neptune, and Vector, a relative unknown I get to discover. The man behind Mohlao, Samuel van Dijk, has a few aliases under his belt, VC-118A leaning more Detroit, while Multicast Dynamics treads into abstract ambient drone. So behind these and Mohlao's dub, you have a nice trifecta of techno from mister van Dijk, none of that trendy business bosh.

We even get a taste of the experimental stuff with opener Rotar, where a bunch of drippy, minimal sounds slowly emerge over the course of two minutes. The arrival of a subdued rhythm just adds to the sparse arrangement, this track all about the noises that are barely there. Follow-ups Voltool One and Neptune do more to get things moving along, but even then these are dub techno tracks more as tools than music.

Some traces of backing melody do make their way into this album in tracks like Vector and Outline (ooh, big synths!). This mostly alternates between pure dub techno works, and while not bad, doesn't really do much to ignite this album beyond an exercise in functionalism. I cannot deny this left me a little wanting, Silent Season releases typically offering more than that. Like that titular closer, that's the sort of floating headspace dubby techno I wanted to hear more of.

I dunno. It just feels weird coming away from any release on Silent Season with such lukewarm feels. There's 'returning to the source' but maybe it's not best going all the way back.

Segue - The Island

Silent Season: 2019

I can't help but feel that Silent Season's shine has diminished some. Oh, not the quality of their releases, they remain top-notch. It feels ages ago, though, since the little dub techno label out of the Canadian west coast broke out of the underground thanks to a spiffy Resident Advisor spotlight, Segue's own Pacifica leading the charge. For a time after, Silent Season couldn't drop an album without everyone wanting in on that action, making nabbing a physical copy something of a mad scramble. Not so much anymore, but don't worry, all ye' investors of the label's older catalogue: those CDs still command upwards of three-digits on the Discogs Marketplace.

It was with this framing some couldn't help but think Segue's third album with the label was something of an attempt at re-capturing that initial hype. Never mind that journey over the Coastal Mountains, Jordan is taking his muse back to the Pacific waters, to another of those charming little island one finds sprinkled about the Strait Of Georgia, tide waters nipping at its steep shores. There's trees, and blue skies, and gosh, doesn't The Island art remind you of Pacifica? None of that sepia-toned alpine cloud cover, nosiree.

I kid, as musically, Mr. Sauer's come quite a ways from those days. Melody's been creeping ever more noticeably and gracefully into his dub techno output, to such a point that it practically dominates over the deep under-belly of his tracks. Opener Sunrise Over Malaspina leads with more of those vintage Segue synths, dubbed out with plenty of tasteful reverb, soon joined by a soft rhythm and sprinkly arps. Shore Breeze keeps the mellow vibes going, sparse synths backed by melancholic pads and minimalist crunchy static. Mirage quickens the pace, but the beats remain soft and... is silty a way to describe a rhythm? Like stepping in the beach where the water's just receded, as the cosmic vista above you is revealed in quickly approaching twilight. Yeah, some music is just best described in simile.

As should be abundantly clear by now, The Island is more of that Segue stylee I'm sure everyone reading this already loves. It's maybe not quite as 'floaty' as Over The Mountains or 'functionalist' as Pacifica, but if you liked those albums, you'll like The Island. The only two cuts on here I found my own interest drifting on was Beacon Point and Midnight Dip, tracks that were more about dub techno sound design than anything my mammal brain could latch onto (the former too plodding for any repeat plays). The ship is nicely righted for the final two tunes in Galaxies (so spacious!) and Deep Current (so chill!).

Which leaves me in a conundrum regarding Segue's larger discography. I like what I hear from him, but getting hard-copies of it all isn't exactly easy anymore. Do I keep holding out for a chance deal, or just bite the bullet on his Bandcamp? Ooh, four of his albums, including Pacifica, that I don't have yet? Tempting...

Purl - Deep Ground

Silent Season: 2011

Now this was fortuitous of me, finding an O.G. CD of not only any ol' Silent Season release, but a Purl one at that. Mind, this isn't one of the label's initial run of CDs, lacking their distinct gatefold design with recycled cardboard casing. Far as I can tell, this album came out with the launch of Silent Season's 'download series' (hence catalogue numbers being SSDxx), so it makes sense they'd spend less effort on a CD option. Wasn't the label mostly a digital one in the first place though? I guess, but growing positive buzz at the start of the '10s probably spurred on a little re-launch in the process.

All well and good for Silent Season, but there's a nice additional talking point to this CD where Purl is concerned, in that it's his first album to receive the CD treatment at all. True, it was just his third LP released, but for a chap who's put out a couple dozen albums this past decade, hard copy editions remain rare, especially the earlier half of his career. In fact, he never put out another CD until his Silent Season follow-up Stillpoint (so sayeth Lord Discogs). As his profile has grown, Purl's expanded his reach across more labels that do offer physical options, making these initial steps beyond the only-digital realm nifty little artifacts of a discography on the rise. So goes the line of marketing in the collector's world anyway.

And what sort of sounds may we find on Ludvig's debut Silent Season outing? Dub techno and ambient drone of course – it's the label's brand, after all. That may not seem such a big deal since it's familiar ground where Purl music is concerned, but his prior couple albums had been mostly pure ambient exercises with dubby overtones. Rhythms were not really part of his repertoire yet.

On Deep Ground however, he goes all out, unleashing the fiercest, freshest beats that- No, not really. First proper track Sus is actually quite laid back, a distant techno rhythm gliding along a gentle backing synth, sounding not too out of place on an old Aphex Twin collection. Elsewhere, Storisende feels almost proggy with its comparatively prominent chugging rhythm, its backing layered pads no less blissy than anything else in Purl's discography.

The over-arching influence of dub techno couldn't be ignored though, and Under Trädens Rötter sounds like it could have come from one of Wolfgang Voigt's Gas sessions, though more mysterious than ominous. Sargyll, meanwhile, goes real deep into the dub muck, its rhythm barely a low thrum as sound echo off cavernous spaces.

It's not all dub techno, half of Deep Ground made up of ambient pieces of varying length (shortest: three, thirty-three; longest: ten, thirty-nine). They're all nice affairs, typical of Purl's style at the time, but oddly sequenced, making the album's flow a little wonky in the process. By no means a deal breaker though, Deep Ground definitely worth scoping out among Purl's many LPs.

Wanderwelle - Gathering Of The Ancient Spirits

Silent Season: 2018

The release of Wanderwelle's debut album Lost In The Sea Of Trees was something of a turning point for Silent Season. While not the first foray into vinyl for the label, it was the first time the format was the lone hard-copy option for a long-player, skipping out on a CD version entirely (erm, and hence why I skipped on it as well ...if I must, I can wait forever on snagging a digital copy). More prominently though, it was the first time Silent Season went with something other than a picturesque photo of local scenery for cover art, instead offering an image out of a children's fairy-tale book. As the chaps behind Wanderwelle claimed the music was inspired by the pagan tribes of ancient Europe, I suppose slapping the usual misty mountains or Pacific rainforest fauna overtop wouldn't do the concept justice. (oh, and the album was wonderful; will definitely spring for a digital copy, eventually)

A year later, and the Dutch duo have come forth with their second album, Gathering Of The Ancient Spirits. Sweet, more European paganism? Nah, guy, misters Bartels and van Dulm opting for something a little more tribal here. Or tropical. French Polynesian, if we must be specific, which at least keeps with the 'Silent Season represents music inspired by the Pacific Ocean' thing. Just, y'know, the literal opposite corner from their usual haunt of the planet's largest body of water. And even then, it's not so much being inspired by Tahiti, but by the “ultrasavage” artwork of French artist Eugène Henri Paul Gauguin, who's own paintings were more an idealized depiction of the region and cultures residing there. I feel like I'm falling into some deep inception levels of inspiration here.

This tribal-tropical-Polynesian motif has generated one of Silent Season's more unique offerings. For sure such ideas have been explored before, though typically in the context of rainforests (equatorial or taigan). To say nothing of how often we hear coastal ambient dub and aqua techno from the label (new genre alerts? Oh God, no!). Gathering Of The Ancient Spirits combines these ideas into something quite soft and haunting, tapping into that same well-spring of primitive vibes that reminds me of TUU. Just in a dub techno-y sort of way.

That said, I honestly don't have much to detail on a track by track basis. Absolutely some compositions have things that prominently leap out – d'at bassline in The Seed Of The Areoi! Different forms of percussion are featured in various tracks, while the ample use of field recordings remain diverse enough such that I never feel like I'm hearing the same croaking crickets, twittering tucans, or bubbly brooks. Still, the general tone blends together into a singular overpowering mood. It all feels like I'm lazing about a tiki lounge at some resort surrounded by palm trees, but being encroached upon by the recesses of a passing culture, long since eradicated save some weathered artifacts. There's mischievous spirits on them islands, I reckon.

Axs - Arctic Circle

Silent Season: 2011

It's about time I accept many of those original Silent Season CDs are well and truly out of my financial reach. Yes, even more so than the elusive early Autumn Of Communion discs. I mean, I shouldn't feel bad about digging into their digital catalogue, most of their initial run released as MP3 or WAV only options anwyay; heck, it was a full year before they even added their distinctive photographic cover art of Pacific Northwest scenery. Such is the way of things now, and if Bandcamp streams remains the best option of hearing items like Atheus' Compile or Purl's Deep Ground, then so be it. Just would be nice to plug that into my main sound system at some point, is all I'm sayin'. Maybe I just need to upgrade my computer speakers too.

Thus it is so with Arctic Circle from Axs (or Dj AXS, or Alexander Gouard), because if I'm finally gonna' dig on me some Silent Season digital, it may as well be the one with the derelict boat. Well, not so much derelict, but sunken, abandoned, left to rot in the foggy harbours of the Georgia Strait. A once proud fishing (crabbing?) vessel little more than a rusting hulk, soon to be home for all manner of barnacles, mussels, starfish, and tiny baby salmon. There's certain themes I like in my cover art, is what I'm saying, and if it ain't blue, then an abandoned boat will do. Landlocked preferable, but I cannot deny seeing this one half-submerged brings the strange melancholy feels just the same. Incidentally, this is possibly the most presence of humanity that's ever graced a Silent Season photo-cover. Figures it also depicts nature reclaiming it.

Mr. Gourard had a fairly productive half-decade of activity (so sayeth Lord Discogs). He floated about various labels like Other Heights, Red Dye, and ZeECc, plus had his own short-lived print called Blue Oranges. Following a three album stint with Recycled Plastics, his output appears to have dried up, going quiet these past five years on the production front. Arctic Circle came out around the middle of all that, his lone contribution to the Silent Season saga.

So we're in dub techno and ambient drone territory, as expected with this label. There's the calm and soothing layers of timbre as found in Empty Sky and Frozen Signpost, plus the slightly uptempo tracks like Compass and Edge Of The Chasm. Meanwhile, Glass Dome touches on some good ol' Biosphere-styled drone dub, with an ultra-long fade-out that would have Geir watching his clock a little. What surprised me though, was when this album cautiously tread into dark ambient's domain. Island At The Brink Of Time is quite desolate and sparse, mysterious and cold as the northern winter skies, while The Dusk Glade creates something of a claustrophobic vibe, as though the empty tundra suffocates you under its overwhelming desolation. I guess that explains the oceanic wreck on the cover art – dark ambient loves its boat ruins.

Various - The Wandering II Compilation (Part 2)

Silent Season: 2015

A sorting glitch after downloading from Bandcamp? Silent Season intentionally making digital and physical versions different from one another? A higher power sating my strange alphabetical obsessions? Whatever the case, the track sequencing between the MP3 and CD copies of The Wandering II is vastly different. Whereas the latter stylistically spreads the music out across three discs, the former arranges everything per artist, going from A.P through ASC to Ethernet, Kanthor, Michal Wolski, Segue, all the way to Yuka. And while I'm all for such organization in spicing up a playlist as staged randomness, it doesn't work so well in this case.

The chaps at Silent Season spent a full year in collecting, curating, and crafting this triple-compilation, such that each track had its proper placement on CDs. Playing it out by Artist totally messes that up, and while Silent Season promotes a generally narrow aesthetic range of dub ambient and techno, my digital version still made for some strange transitions. That ten-minute long dark drone of Sonitus Eco's Frost works as a second track on an ambient-heavy CD, but playing out at the forth-to-last position with a few rhythmic tracks following was jarring to say the least.

Whatever, it's just a quirk, one I'm certain Silent Season didn't intend. Nay, the 'proper' way of hearing The Wandering II is per the CDs themselves. I mean, the opening half of CD1 prominently features ambient, and doesn't really return to that style anywhere else. You get a couple different flavors of it too, from the aforementioned drone, to some blissy pad work (Legiac's Jefre Tropod) or ominious field recordings (Birds Of Prey's The Surface, Kanthor's Hegemony). By track six, we finally start hearing intermittent rhythms, some more of a microfunk thing (A.P's Interdimensional 2.0, Aesthes' Amphibians), others doing the soft, minimalist dub techno throb (Inanitas' Tuesday Evening, Ethernet's Reminiscence). Overall a typical warm-up disc for Silent Seasons' preferences.

CD2 is where I get the most bang for my buck though – there be trance here! Right right, it's not trance as you or him or her or they or Them or It might call it. Archist's Photosensitive has a tribal rhythm with soft pads ebbing and flowing throughout. Hidden Element's Edge Off and Michal Wolski's Lunyata provide a nicely thumping dub techno pulse to distant synth melodies. Hydrangea's Ananké works a slow-n-steady techno beat as widescreen pads fill a wide range of timbre. Alfredo Mazzilli's Continuando a Sognare and Tdel's Deep Field sound like they could have been chill cuts on an old Eye Q collection. See, trance!

If all that sounds too uplifting and melodic for you, CD3 goes about as de-e-e-eep into dub techno's domain as you'll ever likely hear. There's occasional touches of pad work (As If's Nærvær, Warmth's Altitude), but yeah, this is a rather clinical disc compared to the other two. Still, Mr. Zu's Retaw takes us out with some vintage ambient techno-dub, which is only appropriate for a massive collection such as The Wandering II.

Various - The Wandering II Compilation (Part 1)

Silent Season: 2015

It's a rare event when Silent Season releases a compilation, their first coming three years after the label launched. Following that initial Wandering CD, they put out a white-label collection called Full Circle, then sat fallow on the format for five years. Not really sure why that is, as they seem to have enough contacts in dub ambient and techno circles to warrant a few favours phoned in for contributions. And while it's lovely and all having spiffy albums and pleasing EPs available, the compilation has long been the preferred format in promoting one's manifesto, a sampler of artists and genres a label wishes to support by luring in the curious passerby. Then again, Silent Season is the sort of print that's long been able to sell itself almost entirely by word-of-mouth, the quality of their releases readily reaching the ears of dedicated disciples of dubbed-out music. Making compilations for the pure purpose of promotion would be a redundant venture, and likely a time consuming effort for a label that prides itself on its minimalist aesthetic.

Nay, better to save the format for celebratory events, which is what Silent Season done did in finally releasing a second volume of The Wandering in 2015. The occasion of note with this item is it marking the label's twentieth release, a feat that... doesn't quite add up when I look over their discography with The Lord That Knows All. Mind, Lord Discogs' cataloguing isn't an exact science, some albums appearing twice under different formats, so I guess I'll have to take it under faith that Silent Season is being on the level in claiming The Wandering II marks their double-ten triumph. I mean, that Dubpression Remix digital release from Rasmus Hedlund was just half a release anyway, right?

And just in case you felt this label's been far too skint in offering compilation options over the years, Silent Season didn't hold back on this one, going with a gargantuan 3CD extravaganza, inviting familiar artists from their past for a dub techno party. ASC is here! Segue is here! Inanitas is here! Mon0 is here! Tdel is here! Yuka is here! Um... is that it? No Vitalis Popoff? Or Shaded Explorer? Mind Over MIDI? Martin Nonstatic? Edanticonf? Refracted? Faru? Purl? Bueller?

Well hey, as I said before, a good compilation should expose you to new and unknown names, and The Wandering II definitely does that for yours truly. While there's a few artists here that I think I've come across in the past (Brando Lupi, Archivist, As If, Slownoise), most of these I'm dealing with for the first time. And since I've clearly almost used up my self-imposed word count now, I'll spend a second part detailing the musical particulars of this release – oh yes, it ain't just twenty-eight tracks of droning dub techno. I'll finish this one off by mentioning the track sequencing of The Wandering II is... odd, artists arranged in alphabetical order. Who even does such a thing? *cough*

Refracted - Through The Spirit Realm

Silent Season: 2015

Eh? What's this? I'm still hearing the theme to It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia playing? But... I already made my excuses in the review of Lingua Lustra's Source, a perfectly valid reason for 'springing' on a digital version of a release despite my steadfast mandate that I'll always go hard copy over digital: I initially got it for as a free download, then picked up the CD in a bulk deal from the label. See, perfectly legit. I've remained honest and true in my proclamation of never buying digital if a physical option remains. *Always Sunny In Philadelphia plays, now with title “Sykonee Buys A Digital Version Of A Vinyl Release”*

Oh, fine, 'tis true I caved on this one, but Silent Season is so good at twisting my rubber arm, don't you know. They actually sent out a Bandcamp discount through email, so I figured where's the harm in indulging one of their releases that came out in a physical medium I know I'll never buy. I mean, there's always the ultra-slim chance I might find one of their earlier CDs at a 'reasonable' price on the open market (haha, ha), but vinyl? Oh, Hell no! I don't dare start on the Black Crack addiction. Then again, I caved on my 'never digital' stance in this particular instance – who's to say I won't some day break to vinyl's ever-seductive gleam, its promises of audio fidelity grand and pure... NO! Must... resist...

Refracted is Alex Moya, a relative newcomer to the world of techno. He made his vinyl debut with Silent Season, on the 2013 EP Along A Ghostly Trail, following on that a couple years later with a debut album in Through The Spirit Realm. For some reason, it didn't click for me this was an LP (or 2x12”), figuring I'd simply be getting a single as most records from Silent Season go. It's rather pricey of the fiercely independent print to press wax of this sort, is what I'm saying. But yeah, five tracks hovering around the seven minute mark, an experimental shorty about three-and-a-half, and a ten-plus minute closer - I'd say this constitutes a proper LP.

As we're dealing with Silent Season, you bet the style of techno Mr. Moya brings us is deep, dubby, and filled with field recordings. It's also remarkably tribal, tracks like We Arrive, The Ritual Begins, and the titular cut getting my Psychik Warriors Ov Gaia triggers going. Right, it's not exactly like the PWoG we all know and love – none of that renegade grit in this mixdown – but the techno-kraft is close enough for me to dig it. The two tracks that bookend Through The Spirit Realm are more on that ambient trip though, which is fine if you like your subtle lush pads flush with sounds of the jungle and approaching thunderstorms. Still feels weird trading such rainforest fauna from that which Silent Season's more known for. Unless you wander the Amazon exhibit in the Vancouver Aquarium anyway.

ASC - No Stars Without Darkness

Silent Season: 2016

I guess if I wanted to know what an ASC album on Cryo Chamber would sound like, I now have my answer. Or maybe …txt, No Stars Without Darkness not exactly a dark ambient album. It sure is lonesome though, feelings of stark melancholy permeating the mood as one looks upon an endless night sky, feeling hopelessly remote from every grand tapestry the cosmos closely guards behind an opaque veil. It’s not a vibe I’m accustomed to hearing with Silent Season, is what I’m getting at. Passages of reflection, sure; dubbed-out drone is part of the label’s manifesto, and few things get you lost up in your own brainpan better than infinite layers of pad and timbre. I seldom get a sense of suffocating isolationism though. Like, it’s fine to take a solo hike through damp, coastal old-growth, but Van-City remains a few kliks away.

This one though, there’s just a little more isolationism, a little more bleakness in the void ASC is painting here, even going by track titles alone. Idyll Of Sorrow, All Come To Ruin, Nothing More To Give, Elegy For An Empty Shell …not the most cheering of themes here, and the music doesn’t liven the mood either.

Sorrow features mournful pads and down-trodden melodies as impossibly distant whispers penetrate the somber tone. A Moment Alone does the abstract, cosmic drone thing that wouldn’t sound out of place on an Alphaxone album. Ruin treads closer to a calming ambient vibe, though is so drenched in overdubs, it’s about as soothing as the stuff Aphex Twin offered on SAW II. Silence and Waning Hours add minute melodic content, acoustic guitar strums penetrating the desolation. And after eight tracks of oppressive drone, The Promise In Your Lies opts for a quieter piece to finish on, though no less spacious and vast in soundcraft, like you cannot help but forever keep staring upward in the futile hopes of seeing more stars in the infinite black above.

No, seriously, it can’t be done. I know what you’re thinking: it’s paradoxical that we can’t see all the stars if they’re all up there, right? That’s the crux behind Olbers’ Paradox, after all. Well, there’s a reason space appears as black as it does. First off, the universe is big [citation needed], light taking time to reach us, some stars so distant that their photons will never strike our planet. This is due to the universe’s expansion, such light typically red-shifted across the electromagnetic spectrum from our vantage point, much of which is shifted so far, it’s beyond our visible range of sight. Interestingly, at the longest wavelengths (microwaves), the cosmos does light up as though it was filled with infinite stars – it’s called the Cosmic Microwave Background. With our limited visibility though, we’re stuck seeing only the closest stars (cosmic dust doesn’t help either), universal expansion blinking ever more out of our view. At some point, there won’t even be stars in the darkness. And that gives the sads.

Mystica Tribe - Island Oasis

Silent Season: 2017

Of all the dubby releases Silent Season has brought us, I never expected something like this. Dub techno, sure. Ambient dub, absolutely. Even when getting away from music with a steady rhythm, going pure ambient littered with field recordings, there’s a touch of the dub resonance in all those layered timbre and effects. This one though, the debut album from Mystica Tribe titled Island Oasis, is unlike any sort of dub release I’ve heard from Silent Season thus far. Maybe I’d find something similar further back in the label’s catalog – of course I haven’t taken in everything they’ve put out – but this one, my friends, is a first.

And what sort of dub can I be talking about? Yes, what is this unprecedented, ‘brand new and good for you’ style that has gotten my head all double-taking an’ shit? Reggae dub, mang. As in, O.G. ‘70s stylee. The bare-bones production, simplistic melodic instrumentation, with the cavernous snare hits, dungeon-deep bass vibes, and echo effects emanating from the furthest reaches of Zion – all from the Book Of Tubby. Not that it’s surprising to hear throwback reggae dub nearly fifty years since its creation, as the genre’s been remarkably persistent even as new approaches and variations on its core concept continue being explored. It’s like the blues: you can do all manner of strange and different things with it, even taking it down roads that lead it into territory far removed from its original ethos, but there’s still something about returning to that vintage, uncomplicated, twelve-bar/stripped-down sound.

So that Silent Season would throw their hat into the reggae dub pot (tee-hee) is a bit of a surprise, but not totally out of left-field – probably an eventuality anyway. What’s caught me even more off-guard is the chap behind Mystica Tribe, one Taka Noda from Tokyo, Japan. Not that it should be – white folk have been making reggae dub for years now, so why wouldn’t someone from the land of the rising sun get in on that action too? From Jamaica to Britain to Japan, island nations gotta’ represent, yo’. And as Mystica Tribe, Taka’s released about a half-dozen EPs, some on SD Records, a print into techno of the acid n’ dub sort, and more recently with his own print. Those records mostly toed the dub techno line, making Island Oasis all the more surprising as a doe-eyed throwback of dub music (including an analog mixdown!).

As for the music, yeah, it’s a reggae dub album, with little in the way of surprises. The echo, reverb, and delay effects are well placed and suitably spacious, the bass has plenty of beefy resonance for your sub-whoofer needs, and there’s typically a different, though familiar, form of melodica leading in each track: organ, harmonica, piano, xylophone. It’s all stuff I’ve heard plenty times before, though interestingly, when I played it at work, one of my older co-workers remarked how strange and different it was to her. What, she never heard UB40?

Segue - Over The Mountains

Silent Season: 2016

While Silent Season doesn’t have any particular core acts, there are a few producers who’ve frequently come back over the years. ASC’s practically made the label his second home now, while Purl, Shaded Explorer, and Edanticonf have contributed multiple times. One name that significantly sticks out for me, however, is Segue, as it was his album Pacifica that first drew my attention (that cover art!). It came out in 2013 though, when the Gospel Of Silent Season was thoroughly spreading out from the ranks of ultra, in-the-know dub techno disciples, so my crossing was inevitable. More interestingly, Segue was among the initial producers releasing material for the label’s 2007 netlabel launch – his Nostalgia EP ranks number two in catalog order. So, in a way, the adored dub techno print’s success might not exist without Segue’s help…? Yeah, that’s a stretch, but a fun little coincidence nonetheless.

Or maybe not, Jordan Sauer, the man behind the alias, originating from Vancouver. Makes sense then, the Silent Season posse would be familiar enough with his work to invite him over for a release or three. He’s floated about several labels since then, very little I’m familiar with (Sem Label, Dronarivm, Dtabloem), though he also had his own shared print in db (Duckbay). A fairly typical floater of a producer, all said, his most prolific output well in the past now. Guess Mr. Sauer was feeling a tad nostalgic for his homeland, returning to Silent Season once more, with an ode to those most rugged of West Coast terrains, the Coast Mountains. Sure, the Cascades get all the hype, what with their sexy volcanoes and geomorphic jewels (mm, Crater Lake…), but for pure, untamed alpine awesomeness, the Coastal Range is tough to beat our here in the West.

Some track titles will be instantly familiar to locals, though aren’t necessary to understand the music behind them. Sunshine Coast is all warm and fuzzy with glowing pads Boards Of Canada would swoon over, all the while a lazy hazy dub rhythm floats along. I know the folks around Gibsons are hippies (Green Party 4 lyfe), but maybe Sunshine Coast is a little too on the nose? Sea To Sky goes a similar dub route, spritely melodies sprinkling about as a heavy bottom end grounds the listener. Deep Valley has more a charming jaunt going for it, while Summits & Spires is almost a lullaby with its languid synths and deep dub. And hey, while you’re hanging out on these alpine glaciers, take in a little Aurora, opening Segue’s rich sound into a wide nightscape canvas?

I suppose the other tracks work for the setting, though they’re more generalized to any ol’ mountain range: Celestial, Exposure, Alpenglow. They too keep to Segue’s languid dub techno pace, though with the ample amount of local field recordings Jordan injects into his tracks (so much bird song in Exposure), it helps keep Over The Mountains firmly within British Columbia’s realm. Okay, maybe a little Cascadia too.

Shaded Explorer - Empatia

Silent Season: 2016

Shaded Explorer is Emanuele Pertoldi, a typically obscure person in the world of techno. Not that it’s his fault, mind you, as he’s released music only a few years now. He’s two LPs deep with Silent Season under the alias, with appearances on about a half-dozen compilations from such labels like Deep Electronics, Haar Records, and Ovunqve. Before adopting the Shaded Explorer moniker though, Mr. Pertoldi did put out a number of singles under his own name, across an equally eclectic list of labels (M_Grey, Subself Records, Evasion Room, I Cieli Di Orione). There’s more to Emanuele’s story (other scattered aliases), but this is about as much as Lord Discogs provided, and who are we to judge what information is divulged by The Lord That Knows All? Obsessive compulsive sorts who crave ALL the info’, that’s who!

Shaded Explorer may be obscure by regular techno standards, but as we’re dealing with Silent Season, the music on hand obviously skews towards the ambient and dub end of that spectrum. So I guess that wouldn’t make Mr. Pertoldi that obscure, as dub techno followers are a ravenous people, one that will consume almost anything that’s released within their scene. Me? Um, I just like supporting regional labels, that’s right. Speaking of, I really ought to get gathering more Nordic Trax tracks.

Anyhow, Empatia is the second album from Shaded Explorer on Silent Season, and as per the label’s manifesto, it features all the reflective moods one can hope for out of their dub techno. The first couple tracks (Resilience, Mental Decoupling, and Distant Connections later in the album) are pure ambient though, looping layers of meditative tones fed through a warm, dubby glow as best served while wandering the brisk dawn of coastal rainforests. Oof, that reads dangerously close to New Age bollocks, but the music most definitely is not. It’s, like, the cool meditation ambient music, that you’d find on all those cool compilations from the early ‘90s, when ambient and dub was first sexing things up in chill out rooms.

Actually, Empatia reminds me a lot of such two-decade old CDs, the music rather reminiscent of material coming out of Apollo and Beyond. For sure it’s significantly polished compared to the crusty ambient techno of days long past, but the songcraft is similar. Corresponded Serenity features a soft techno beat fed through dub effects as a pleasant pad hums in the background, When I Decided To Live goes more playful with spritely melodies, and Inner Treasures’ vintage shuffly rhythms and burbling acid is classic ambient techno to t’. Emanuele makes room for contemporary dub techno sounds too, Tomrum building upon a bouncy beat, L’Aura Marina more traditional Basic Channel dub, and Senza Fine allowing some experimental sound design in on the party. Overall, Empatia hits every Win checkbox I look for in this music, almost a too perfectly in fact, with little in surprises. Which is about the worst ‘criticism’ I can level at this album, but here we are.