Jeannine Schulz - Humble

Polar Seas Recordings: 2022

Now there's a word that's kept me down all my life. Why couldn't I have been born with total narcissistic tendencies, throwing myself out there without a care in the world of how others think of me, deluding myself into believing everyone needs me in their lives? No, I had to be born a humble person, appreciating the positive reinforcement I receive for my creative efforts, but never actively seeking them. Humbleness may sound good for the soul, but is damn near disastrous for marketing. Unless... you can parlay that into its own form of marketing! Certainly worked for a couple famous philosophical folk, but could it in this day and age, where sociopathic influencers rule the world? Heck, I'd accept that challenge, but y'know, humble to a fault and all.

Anyhow, Jeannine Schulz. Can't find much info surrounding this German artist, but she managed herself a fairly steady musical output this past half-decade, a Bandcamp catalogue consisting of some fifty items to date. Granted, many of them are two-to-four track releases of minimalist, abstract ambient music seldom breaching twenty-minute lengths, but there are a few scattered albums about her discography too. Three of those have appeared on Polar Seas Recordings, this here Humble being her second effort for the Toronto label. That's... about all the background I have on this release. Talk about your humbleness.

As said, this is some very minimalist music from Ms. Schulz, though not without its intuitive charms. Opener Home mostly offers what you'll hear from her quite succinctly. Lots of analog churning and fuzz, a gentle tone echoing and flowing through the layers of dubby static. Eventually soft acoustic guitar strums take the lead while resonate pad drone wraps everything together. It'd almost make for the perfect closer on most albums, but we're only seven minutes deep into this forty-five minute long album.

Variety, then. Does Jeannine toy with this formula some? Ichi, The Wind Blows Over The Earth, Resting Place, and the titular track let the more melodic side of this sound carry forward. A Certain Mood And Moment and Presence go more for abstract drone. gm and I toy around with analog effects. Everything's spaced out enough so it doesn't feel like we're spinning wheels with any particular approach to her songcraft. We're still dealing with very subtle sounds though, so differences between pieces will boil down to just how much attention you're paying to it. Which sometimes defeats the purpose of the 'abstract sonic wallpaper' music ambient music of this sort intends to be.

That Home could have closed Humble wasn't just a one-time thing either - every piece was like that. Like, upon my initial playthrough, I kept thinking the album was already wrapping up after each track. Some of that may have to do with how disarming they are, putting you in a sense of ease such that you're content with your listening session. Great for sleepy-time, then.

Jochem Paap - Vrs-Mbnt-Pcs 9598 II

Fax +49-69/450464: 1999/2021

No one ever releases just one item on Fax+, as is the law and tradition. Thus it is, by decree, that Jochem Paap released not just one volume of Vrs-Mbnt-Pcs 9598, but two. Wait, if that title is to be believed, and these sessions were from all the same time frame, why not make it a double-LP instead of two separate CDs? Pft, that's just not how things were done at Pete Namlook's label. You were gonna' get yourself a single CD with each outing, and you'll like it! And for the most part, folks did like it, even if it made being a completist an almost Herculean trial.

These two albums were all Jochem wrote for Fax+, at least as a solo artist. He did do one collaborative joint with Namlook half a decade later, titled pp • nmlk, which... um. Okay, I know the whole naming 'gimmick' Mr. Paap chose for these records was editing out the vowels, so an album title that's just their last names with no vowels makes sense. It's just... I'm sorry, my Beavis & Butthead brain can't help itself! Also, for some reason, that album hasn't been re-issued yet. I'm assuming it's only a matter of time, as lots of material from the Namlook estate has slowly been unearthed in recent years, if not via Silent State Recordings, then via the multitude of artists he collaborated with. One track has come out, ntr t nw wrld, as it appeared on The Ambient Gardener – Winter, but that's all. Patience is a virtue.

Anyhow, I mentioned in the previous review that Vrs-Mbnt-Pcs 9598 I only felt like a Fax+ release part of the time. Not so much 9598 II, about as classic a Fax+ type album as you'll ever come across. For starters, there's a half-hour long track on here – it don't get much more vintage Fax+ than that, my friends! And, in traditional Fax+ fashion, Mrg-Rvx is about as noodly an ambient jam session as you'll come across, ominous synth tones bubbling and burbling like some sort of digital cauldron. It doesn't seem to go anywhere beyond moving for its own sake, but ever-so gradually, dark cinematic drone slides in, sounding a bit rather like the foreboding white-noise pieces that appeared on A Shocking Hobby, just in a more subtle manner. If all that seems too 'maximal' for you, then eighteen-minute follow-up Jchm-Zngn goes ultra-minimalist, gentle atonal pulses played with the softness of a Harold Budd piano piece.

The only thing on here that approaches ear-wormy is the relatively short opener Dx-Snth, a simply bit of calming ambient pad drone that builds towards a pleasant peak. Indeed, this piece did get a little compilation love, including appearing on an Autumn Of Communion mix for A Strangely Isolated Place. Yep, it's a seal of approval from one of ambient techno's contemporary tastemakers, so if that's not enough to get you itchin' to check Vrs-Mbnt-Pcs 9598 II, I don't know what will.

Jochem Paap - Vrs-Mbnt-Pcs 9598 I

Fax +49-69/450464: 1999/2021

Hey now, I still haven't told any lies. I totally am finished with Speedy J and his handful of aliases at this end of my alphabetical queue. I never said anything about material Mr. Paap released under his actual name. You only didn't see this loophole coming from a mile away because you didn't know Mr. Paap released anything under his actual name. And... fair play on that angle. This wasn't widely advertised, perhaps only known by a select few deeply immersed in ambient techno circles of the late '90s. Clearly his regular label Novamute wasn't interested in hearing Jochem indulge himself on some experimental drone.

Or even if they were, Jochem wasn't keen on piggy-backing this off his Speedy J fame. Yeah, he'd shown an ear for ambient doodling on G Spot, but for the most part, Speedy J is his techno outlet, where the bulk of his brand recognition lies. While there may be a small contingent of Speedy fans that'd be down for a selection of ambient works too, sometimes it's just good business sense shuffling those off to a side-gig, should the opportunity arise. What label, though, would be willing to provide that outlet?

Lots, probably, but surprisingly, Jochem ended up on Pete Namlook's Fax+ print for his ambient excursions. I honestly had no idea this was the case until I bought Speedy J's Bandcamp catalogue, if for no other reason I seldom ever see Mr. Paap's name brought up in discussions of Fax+ alum. I guess it shouldn't be that shocking, as plenty of techno's luminaries has crossed the famed Frankfurt label. It's just when you think of artists instrumental in the original Artificial Intelligence run, most of them found welcome homes within that particular circle, whereas Fax+ was kinda' an island unto itself.

Even more so, Vrs-Mbnt-Pcs 9598 I seems like something that should have ended up on Warp Records; or at least, say, Rephlex or Astralwerks, not Fax+. For sure it's ambient, but completely in that distinct Aphex Twin and Autechre lane of lucid dreamscapes, sounds emanating from the outworld and beyond. Seriously, pieces like the eerie Spk, the gentle Dtnd-Jn, the droning Trpp-Bll, and the weirdo Trmml-Dx could have easily fit on Selected Ambient Works II. This isn't so much a style-bite, just IDM artists finding similar aesthetics.

Specifically though, it's not really the usual Fax+ aesthetic, that label often indulging in lengthy ambient jam sessions, with more an ear towards Berlin School synth noodling. A couple tracks do touch upon such vibes, like the gentle, swaying opener Jn-Klkkn, the pure, bright pad drone of shorty Flm, and the minimalist, soft keyboard jam of closer Mbnt-Plng. Clocking in at over sixteen minutes, this piece is the sort you'd expect on a typical Fax+ release, wherein an artist is free to indulge themselves for however long they wish. No expectations of song structure or sound design, just some simple melodic tones playing out for however long said artist feels appropriate.

Yamaoka - Time To Time

Databloem: 2013

Had I come to this album when I first discovered Yamaoka, I could have claimed something like “finally wrapping up his Databloem trilogy”. Assuming I'd already gotten Short Films For Long Days and Simple Songs with Purl, that is. Turns out, merely a month after I dropped a review of the latter, Kenichi dropped another album on Databloem. And then another just last year. And another-another just last year with Purl. So, y'know, good on me being tardy with this discography and all, otherwise I'd have written a completely outdated review of Time To Time, and who'd want to read that?

Actually, I'm a bit surprised Yamaoka's returned to Databloem so often – that label isn't really known for a roster of steady contributors. Indeed, artists come and go from its catalogue like travelling troubadours, releasing an album or three while gallivanting off with their own labels or regular side-hustles.

I know this is far from the case, but since taking in a fair sampling of Databloem's output, it strikes me as something of a 'proving ground' for ambient techno artists abroad. Yeah, you may have a dozen releases on some obscure net-label, but if you get your shit on this label, you've definitively become a made ambient-man within the scene at large. You only need a couple records with them to achieve such status before being set off into the wider world abroad. And here's Yamaoka, throwing my theory out the window by having half a dozen releases on Databloem in nearly a decade's time. Curse you, Kenichi, for ruining my head-canon!

Anyhow, Time To Time is where he made his debut with the label, I assume after shopping around following the folding of his previous two homes, Secret Station and Somehow Recordings. I cannot deny being hit with massive deja-vu on this album's opener, Orion, as it starts similarly to Close Line, the track that opened up his Databloem double-LP Short Films For Long Days. They aren't exactly the same, of course, Orion a bit more stripped and minimal compared to Close Line, but man, did it ever give me a sense of trepidation. That for as cool and unique a sound he had,Yamaoka may have turned out to be a one-trick pony with his use of layered echoing loops. Never mind A Frozen Stream disproved that, it's those initial impressions that unfortunately linger.

Fortunately, Kenichi offers enough variation of sound among the remaining seven tracks that those fears quickly dissipated. Yeah, some tread familiar territory as heard on Short Films, though I can't fault that future album for exploring similar sonic territory. When Yamaoka moves closer to the realms of dub techno (Winter Garden, Radial), trancey loops (Hermes) or waves of melodic washes (Prose, Skylight), it helps stand Time To Time out as it's own entity. Nice and concise, too, because I couldn't help but tap out after two CDs worth of Yamaoka loops in Short Films. Maybe I need more Purl up in this house again.

Yamaoka - Short Films For Long Days

Databloem: 2016

Speaking of artists I've neglected, here's Yamaoka again! Sprung for a couple of those Databloem discs, but wouldn't you know it, he's gone and released more since, including another collaboration with Purl (two, if you count Sculpture on Shimmering Moods Records ...must ...resist ...Bandcamp ...page), and another album out on Carpe Sonum. This man's a machine, with a back-catalogue some thirty albums thick now. To say nothing of all the works he did with former partner Yoshinori Yamazaki.

Oh yeah, I haven't actually gotten into the history of this project, have I? Currently helmed by Kenichi Oka, he and Yoshinori had a solid run as Yamaoka releasing several techno records at the turn of the century. If the Discogs chronology is accurate, they took a break in the mid-'00s, after which Kenichi carried on solo, making the name's portmanteau redundant - I assume it was done with Yoshinori's blessing. Debuting on Databloem probably wasn't a breakout for the project, because Yamaoka was clearly successful enough to have such a robust discography behind its back before appearing on the label. Still, it had to be beneficial to his profile, exposing him to more folks than labels like October Man Recordings, Somehow Recordings, Kazumi, and Secret Station managed.

Anyhow, I grabbed the album Short Films For Long Days, not only because it was a namedrop in my last Yamaoka review, but also because it's a double-LP. Sweet, two CDs worth of Kenichi's hypnotic loops and improv melodies echoing for long stretches! Can't wait to dive right into- Holy shit! This album just lead-drops you right into it, opener Close Line immediately hitting you with a crash and busy arps. No warning at all. Geez, let me at least get my bearings first, will you Oka-san?

Actually, the track does quickly settle into familiar Yamaoka territory, and at nine minutes, is the longest track on CD1. This disc is essentially the 'techno' half of the album, with loops in play often percolating in intense rhythmic fashion. Some tracks, like To Morning, Expand, and Latch, even get close to having actual drum kicks. Others wouldn't be far removed from trance, if given a bit more bass business (Leap Year, Pict Time). Still, Yamaoka's freeform approach to crafting tracks is in full display here, everything coming off like sketches while jamming with his gear. 'Short films' indeed.

If CD1 is the uptempo side, then clearly CD2 is on the downbeat – or at least as downbeat as Yamaoka can go while still employing endless strings of pulsing loops. The opener here is called Night Train, and if that doesn't feel an apt title for the tunes I've heard thus far, almost like riding along tracks down some dark tunnel. Generally though, CD2 is a calmer session of music, the sketching aspect making more sense with tones lingering longer on drifting echoes. Cool stuff all round, but forgive me for hoping my next Yamaoka outing is a little more structured. Maybe with Purl again?

James Murray & Francis M. Gri - Remote Redux

Ultimae Records: 2019

Yay, James Murray is back! Or, was back, this album having come out a few years ago now. And then, that's only in relation to Ultimae, Mr. Murray remaining a busy-body between his few appearances on the French label. He's got his own label, Slowcraft Records, to release things on, and a second home with Home Normal, a print housing names like Celer, bvdub, Chihei Hatakeyama, and Wil Bolton. It does give an impression that James didn't need to return to Ultimae, but considering his Eyes To The Height was a highlight of the label's past decade, it's nice seeing him return.

Only, I'm not sure how much of Mr. Murray's music is to be found on this particular release, Remote Redux coming off more like a Francis M. Gri joint. Mr. Gri is another in an endless amount of abstract acoustic ambient producers, often employing pianos and guitars while treating them to delay, detuning, and dubbing effects. He, too, has his own label, KrysaliSound, where he self-releases things while housing other names like øjeRum, Tropic Of Coldness, Hirotaka Shirotsubaki, and Wil Bolton. Oh, and James Murray's released an album there, which is how I assume the two crossed paths. Or maybe it was when Gri released an album on Murray's Slowcraft Records. Either or, whichever satisfies your head-canon.

Ma opens things up with a gentle build of discordant strings, subtle pads, and piano touches with delayed tones reaching far into the deepest canyons. The mood gradually escalates as the layers of timbre pile upon each other, before long the piece doing that wall-of-sound thing you might hear on the more drone orientated ambient labels out there. Though with the twitchy strings and minimalist piano, Ma feels more comfortable in a modern classical lane than traditional ambient.

Toma carries forward with similar production, though with acoustic guitar rather than piano the main melodic rudder. For as much melody as there is anyway, this piece more about the harmonic drones washing over your sense of being. Remote uses more reverse delay effects upon strings and pads, all the while maintaining some sense of forward momentum as the tones ebb and flow. These are techniques I've heard Francis use, but not so much James. In fact, aside from some pad support and electronic sprinklings, I haven't heard much out of James, leaving me wondering if he's in more of a support role to Francis. Like, James playing Eno to Francis' Budd.

Speaking of, Lotano is an utterly blissed out piece of dubbed-out modern classical (d'at analogue fuzz!), while Redux brings back the wall-of-sound washes. That's also the end of the album (plus an extended version of Toma), and with only one track out of five breaching ten minutes, relatively short all things considered. It's also unlike any Ultimae record I can recall hearing, the label seldom going this ambient, much less modern classical. Remote Redux would make perfect sense on, say, Dronarivm, but on Ultimae, it's definitely an unique item.

Mind Over MIDI - Outpost

Neotantra: 2019

Hey-hey, another Neotantra debut from an artist with a robust discography. This one I even know, having already covered Mind Over MIDI's Deep Map some years back. I've actually been meaning to return to Helge Tømmervåg's works for some time now, but he's another one of those highly prolific producers, making a dive into his body of work a bit daunting. For sure his Silent Season contributions are tempting, while his offerings on labels like Shimmering Moods Records, The Level Of Vulnerability, Berserk Fabrik and संस्कार Rites look intriguing. There's just so much of it though, ain't no way I'd be able to check it all out. ...unless, there's a bulk buy option at his Bandcamp page. Hmmm.... *checks* Oh, thank God, there isn't! I don't think I could take on another full-on discography just yet.

Honestly though, I hadn't planned to return to Mind Over MIDI with this particular album, having skipped on it when it first came out. Neotantra was releasing music at such a high clip that I couldn't keep up, so figured I'd focus more on names I was unfamiliar with if I was gonna' scope anything out. It wasn't until getting that Coercion Of Deities compilation that was reminded of Helge even had something out on the label. However, after listening to the gentle, flowing bell tones and soft, ethereal pad work of Subdivision, I knew I had to get the album from whence it came - Outpost - erm, post-haste.

Funny thing is that one three and a half minute track kinda' sums up the whole album, each piece variations on the same sonic ideas. I haven't dove deep enough into Mind Over MIDI's discography to know if this is just how Helge approaches each project, though I do recall Deep Map was similar in that regard. It doesn't make Outpost a deal breaker by any stretch, but if you're looking for an album with a bunch of variety on it, well, you certainly don't know how this branch of abstract, experimental ambient compositions typically plays out. Hey, at least Mr. Tømmervåg divies everything out into twelve, bite-sized chunks (Subdivision is one of the longer tracks on here!), and not some half-hour long meandering piece.

Obviously, there are subtle differences throughout. Opener Dawn To Dark is more of a dronescape. Closer Out Of Reach is a similar dronescape, but with a little more harmonic tone. Outpost 1 is a similar dronescape with brighter harmonic tones. Outpost 2 is a similar dronescape with gentler harmonic tones. Outline 1 is a similar dronescape with splashes of static. Outline 2 is a similar dronescape with sonic stutters and skips. Morning Tide reminds me of J.D. Emmanuel's Visions During Movement.

Okay, so there isn't that much variation, and for some reason, most of Outpost is recorded rather quietly too, as though you're hearing it from a distance. Still, cannot deny it being a nice, gentle bit of abstract harmonic sound while it plays. I'll take it.

Encym - Music For Meditation

Neotantra: 2020

Yep, another Neotantra release. Just how many more of these do I have? Not many, though there is a whole box-set lurking further down the queue, so y'all have that to look forward to. Honestly though, I haven't gotten anything new from the label in over a year now, mostly because much of their recent output has been re-issues of Lee Norris back-catalogue. It's honestly a bit weird seeing items like Spacebound and In The Silence Of The Subconscious now on Neotantra, having long ago gathered them on other labels like ...txt and Carpe Sonum Records. Some things like Autumn Of Communion and Understanding Holy Ghosts re-appearing on Fantasy Enhancing, I get, but why not Alien or Abandoned Communities or The Longing Daylight? I'm sure there's a method to Mr. Norris' selection process, but bully me if I can figure it.

Anyhow, Encym. As is too often the case with these Neotantra releases, this artist is a total blank within the Discoggian archives. Music For Meditation is his lone album, though has made numerous compilation appearances in recent years, including plenty on Neotantra's various Tʌntrə compilations (which I never indulge in because each volume drops so-o-o-o- much music that I really, really, really fear having to write reviews on). Basically, one working his way from the minor leagues, finally getting his chance on the main-bench rotation. Sorry, this sports analogy sucks, but 'tis the season where all the sports be sportsing.

Anyhow, Mr. Encym does have a Bandcamp, where a whole bunch more music can be found, with links to all other manner of social media. He self-describes as an ambient jazz bass player, which may have your Bill Laswell triggers flaring, but that's alright. Listening to Music For Meditation, I can totally hear some Laswellian influences and connections. Though really, one could toss a rock in Bill's direction and land on any number of musical associations, his sonic reach as vast as it is.

Let me straight up say not everything on here is 'meditation worthy'. Pieces like Imbued, Quietude, and Traffic Kng feature some rather harsh tones and over-cranked dub effects, not exactly the sort of music best suited for relaxing For sure they're interesting sonic experiments to listen to – if anything, Encym knows how to engage the listener in his freeform music making, especially with a good set of headphones on your head (*cough*). At no point was I bored by what I was hearing, enjoying the variety, even if some portions came off more confrontational than others.

That said, there are some lovely pieces of ambient dub and bass tone drone throughout this album. The titular cut is pure minimalist calm, New River and The Wakening Of The Sky are almost playful in its ebb and throes of layered dub pads, while London Departures is the sort of tranquil ambient drone that makes perfect sense watching the sun slowly rise over rolling country-side hills. From within a moving vehicle, that is.

Anzio Green - Lygan

...txt: 2019

You know what this label needed more of? Cover art with the colour blue in it. Yeah, there was a little, scattered about, but I can't say I was compelled to grab these based on cover art alone. Ishqamatics' Waterbound has some blue, but lots of green and aquamarine too, so not a true-blue piece of business there. Hakobune's How Slowly We Regret, that's got a whole lotta' blue, but it's also one of those single-track, hour long drone piece albums, a form of music I'm not keen on grabbing often.

Nay, it seems green has been ...txt's preferred colour of choice (erm, when they do primary colours at all). Plank & Ishq's Zeal Monachorum and Crows An Wra series: lots of green! Reverberant Evenings' After The Silence, plenty of green. Nacht Plank's Echo Ark, a weird green for the sky, but green nonetheless. Wil Bolton's Viridian Loops, green all over that hillside. Heck, even the project I'm dealing with here has 'green' right in their name! Talk about a green agenda!

Anzio Green is a duo consisting of Wil Bolton and Mark Streatfield, who seem to convene for a studio session once every half-decade, this Lygan being their most recent effort. Mr. Streatfield had a rather fruitful career in the '00s making dub techno as Cyan341 and ambient techno, glitchy-hop, IDM musics as Zainetica. Mr. Bolton, on the other hand, has crossed paths with this blog a few times, mostly in collaboration with various Lee Norris projects. Not sure what brings the two together for their intermittent Anzio Green outings, but hey, here's another one for those itching on a follow-up to A Day Without Distance.

Some simple guitar tone plucking and overdub effects opens things up on Marshlands, various layers of droning timbre riding along waves of dub reverb carrying the piece along. Some midway through the eleven-plus minute long track, a melody of sorts emerges, in that abstract, Berlin-School sort of way experimental synth works like to go. Navigations – Part One goes heavier on the abstract layers of sound, but a clear ominous vibe permeates the proceedings. Which is more than can be said for Part Two, getting heavier on the experimental musique concrete blasts of tone and timbre.

I was honestly ready to lump Lygan into my “interesting, but not one worth returning to often” pile of CDs when the titular track caught me off guard. Lovely ambient acoustic guitar playing, building tension through oddball dub electronics, string pads escalating the mood towards the end ...now this I dig. The piece also morphs in such a way that I couldn't tell if the various sounds were either playing regular or in reverse – probably both at times. Final track Bright River features a steady rhythm with a nicely depressive vibe of dub tones, capturing the foggy mood of the cover art better than anything else on the album. Congrats, Lygan, you're rescued for my “interesting, play on rainy days” pile of CDs instead!

FSOL - ISDN

Virgin: 1995

You'd think I'd have gotten this in my initial gathering of FSOL albums, a necessary companion to Lifeforms and Dead Cities. A few things kept me from doing so though, a primary factor being I wasn't sure this was even an album. Compared to Ziggy Riphead's striking, CGI artwork from this period in Future Sound Of London's timeline, ISDN is flat, drab, and nondescript. Which hey, is an artistic statement in of itself, plus you'd find plenty weirdo visual-scapes within the booklet if you really needed them.

Still, this record had something of a rep, in that even for a FSOL LP, ISDN was way out there. Wherein Brian and Garry, uninhibited by such limitations as 'performance' and 'audience expectation', could transmit their muses directly into your living rooms. Oh honeys, you hadn't heard anything yet. Just wait until you get a load of this thing called 'live streaming'!

That all said, an appreciation of Brain and Garry's numerous Environment outings finally got me to properly grab ISDN. Okay, reconnecting with a few tunes like Slider, Amoeba and A Study Of Six Guitars didn't hurt in nudging me either. Whether this was some over-indulgent live show broadcast over a fledgling internet, or an assemblage of studio wankery, it was hard to deny at least a handful of dope-ass tunes emerged from these sessions. Surely there were more than what I plucked out of ancient P2P programs.

Confounding the “is this a live album or not?” vibe of ISDN is opener Just A Fucking Idiot, sampling live audio from a Joy Division/New Order. From there, the track's pure future-shock territory, so *deep breath* The Far Out Son Of Lung And The Ramblings Of A Madman grounds things with freeform jazz-funk groovy goodness. An appropriately bit of bridging ambience in Appendage later, and we're into the highlights off ISDN: Slider and Smokin Japanese Babe. Yeah, you could argue they're FSOL jumping on some trendy genres (big beat and trip-hop, respectively), but they're still done in that nifty, warped, post-apocalyptic, psychedelic, sampleholic way only FSOL were doing at the time.

After that though, ISDN goes wa-a-a-yy deep into sound collages and music making for its own sake. For sure some moments stick out – the electro-chill of You're Creeping Me Out, the spritely melodies in Eyes Pop – Skin Explodes – Everybody Dead - but it's not until eleventh track Egypt that things steer in some sort of direction again. As for Egypt, it's got electro rhythms, chants, crickets, woodwinds... y'know, vintage Lifeforms-era FSOL.

Kai and Amoeba feel like two halves of a whole, what with their muted rhythm sections, though I prefer Amoeba's sputtering voice pads over Kai's industrial drone-throb. Six Guitars remains pure bliss, and Snake Hips takes us out on total psychedelic rock weirdness. An Amorphous one calls from beyond.

So yeah, ISDN does have some of FSOL's best moments. It's just a shame they mostly come at the bookends of the album rather than as a consistent whole.

The Bug ft. Dis Fig - In Blue

Hyperdub: 2020

“New Bug, who Dis?”

Sorry, sorry, couldn't resist that one. This isn't even all that new of a Bug album anymore, though I can't help but feel it quickly went by the wayside, especially in the wake of Fire coming out the following year. It certainly isn't much like Kevin Martin's Ninja Tune releases, none of the aggro dancehall and grime raps present. If anything, In Blue has more in common with his other Hyperdub records, the Roger Robinson collaboration King Midas Sound. I'm far from the only person to make that association, though I do wonder if this album started as a King Midas Sound project before morphing into this. Kevin and Roger had taken their work into almost dark ambient pastures by this point though, so a different approach and collaborator was probably called for if Mr. Martin wanted a return to the more soulful side of his muse.

As for who Dis Fig is, she doesn't have much Discoggian data, a smattering of singles and a tape album the extent of her solo work. Known as Felicia Chen on her travel papers, she does appear to have some presence on the Soundcloud DJ circuit, with a contribution to FACT Magazine her highest profile gig. There's definitely an aggro, industrialist approach to her sound, oftentimes coupled with ethereal whispers and tense ambient interludes, keeping you on edge for when the aural assault resumes. Seems like a perfect match-up with Mr. Martin's own brand of industrial dub and dancehall grit. Oh, what's this, a global pandemic has put everyone on lockdown? With nothing better to do, seems time was about right to get that collaboration rollin'.

And if the tunnel artwork wasn't enough, first proper tune Come gets right to work in setting the tone of In Blue. Muted echoes, rumbling bass reverberating off concrete walls, an omnipresent dub wail like wind through confined industrial zones - it's all quite familiar Bug music, though rather muted and suppressed compared to his Ninja Tune outings. All the while Ms. Chen softly croons along, though only provides verses to about half the tracks, sometimes with nothing more than a dubbed-out wail piercing Kevin's grimey murk. Some tunes barely feature her at all, such as the gutter bounce of In 2 U or the diesel-train chugging of Forever. It does leave me to wonder if Dis Fig did any music production for this album. Like, The Bug's work is largely prevalent, but surely a couple of those endless echoes are more than Ms. Chen's soft vocals.

In Blue definitely is a seductive album for those who like their bass music on the ethereal side of things. It's a bit samey throughout though, as though you're travelling through an unending monochrome tunnel. Again, I'm sure that was the intent, and Bug plus Fig pull it off well. It just unfortunately kind of melts into the background after a while. Might have been better served as a couple EPs instead.

The Boats - Do The Boats Dream Of Electric Fritz Pfleumer?

Slaapwel Records: 2011

Before I get into who The Boats are, I should probably get into who Fritz Pfleumer was. Okay, maybe you know Fritz Pfleumer, o' gear-hound of yore, but for most, such a name undoubtedly comes off like a wacky Looney Tunes antagonist. Ahh, you can almost hear it pronounced in Mel Blanc's over-the-top German accent.

But no, Mr. Pfleumer's main contribution to history was nothing less than the invention of the magnetic recording tape. Yes, that tape, as in the source of audio for cassettes, 8-tracks, reel-to-reels, DATs, VHS, and al in between. Almost everything we take for granted in music consumption in the past century can be linked to Fritz' invention, the technology still in use by analogue purists to this day. His name should be on the tongues of far more folks, said in the same breath as the likes of Edison, but a little event called World War II kinda' post-poned any mass marketing or production of his revolutionary recording technique. It wasn't a terribly good time to be a German inventor during those years.

Knowing all this, it makes sense, then, that The Boats were inspired in naming their Slaapwel contribution as an album paying tribute to ol' Fritz. Erm, if you even know who The Boats are. I honestly don't know much about them, beyond whatever Lord Discogs tells me. Founded by Andrew Hargreaves and Craig Tattersall, later joined by Danny Norbury, their catalogue contains over a dozen albums, with piles upon piles of side-projects, solo joints, alternate aliases, and collaborative works among all three. I can't be arsed to deep-dive into all this for more context, but from what I can easily glean, they love themselves some tape loop experimentation, often crafting fuzzy, twee indie-pop chill tunes around it. Quite pleasant stuff, if that's your thing, which sometimes is my thing, but again, so much of it ...just so much. Do The Boats Dream Of Electric Fritz Pfleumer? probably wasn't the best jumping on point, but eh, how could I resist another album with cover art of a boat locked in ice?

Right off the bat, the tape hiss and analogue fuzz is in full effect, practically overwhelming what minimal sound and tone makes its way through. Sparse plok-pok percussion, a lazy drone that seems to sway as though gently bobbing on waves, while intermittent bell chimes, guitar plucking, and other assorted instruments break up any monotony. Not that The Boats do anything to actively draw your attention to such sounds. You're supposed to be falling asleep to this, after all, and everything's so quiet you'd have to actually crank the stereo to hear much of it over the persistent sonic fuzz.

If you do manage to stay awake for the single track's thirty-six minute length, things do get more 'active' as we move along. Midway, a more prominent string section emerges, while the drone tone grows stronger, even overtaking the endless tape hiss. Almost seems menacing compared the earlier tranquility. Hopefully you'll have nodded off by then.

Ciro Berenguer - Bruma

Slaapwel Records: 2020

I wish Slaapwel was more fruitful in their musical endeavours, rather than taking the Rip Van Winkle pace their sleep-based manifesto so religiously follows. They've released but three items since I last splurged on them (if you can call scooping up three CDs a splurge), which is about on pace for their 'one album per year' rate. Oddly, their latest one from Kreng + Svarte Greiner, The Night Hag, seems like something more suitable for a dark ambient print than one promoting a well rounded circadian rhythm. Sleep terrors, really? Good God, maybe I should just start springing for digital copies of Slaapwel's older, long out-of-print items. Ooh, The Boats...!

In the meanwhile, let's check out one of the few recent Slaapwel releases I did spring for, this here Bruma from Ciro Berenguer. According to Lord Discogs, he is ...um, almost nonexistent, it seems. The only other record to his name there is El Mar De Junio (Eilean 64), released on Eilean Rec. I'm not familiar with that label, though do recognize a few names there (James Murray, Twincities, Wil Bolton). They also apparently had something of a gimmick to their releases, strictly one-hundred items, based upon points on a map. Man, and I thought the collector's OCD was strong with Neotantra.

Digging a little deeper, I did find Ciro's Bandcamp, which has one other album, and contributions to other odds 'n ends scattered about. Seems more of a local talent within Barcelona's music scene then, a musician mostly content remaining on the periphery. I suppose that's why I found this write-up for Bruma so amusing: “Listeners familiar with Berenguer’s previous work will recognize his typical minimal style with fading, constantly evolving themes.” Just how big an audience does Mr. Berenguer have such that they'd immediately recognize specific musical traits anyway? Then again, it's not like Slaapwel Records, a tiny print based out of Belgium, would have potential audiences on the other side of the globe in mind when writing their Bandcamp blurbs. And yeah, that Eilean record definitely had some abstract minimalism going for it, a far gap of songcraft compared to the more traditionalist guitar folk LP he put out many years before.

In typical Slaapwel style, Bruma features a single thirty-five minute long track titled Los Entresijos De La Noche, or “The Ins And Outs Of Night”. It, too, mostly goes for minimalist sonic abstraction, gentle guitar plucks and manipulated xylophone tones as fed through tape loops and field recordings. At many points, the piece almost fades to nothing but echoing embers of melody, as though you're finally nodding off for the night. This being over a half-hour of improvisation though, the music does re-emerge for more tranquil bells and the like.

And if I'm honest, I have a difficult time keeping attention for the duration, the lethargic nature of Ciro's songcraft here extremely effective in lulling me into a state of synaptic inertness. Another successful outing from Slaapwel Records, in other words.

Rapoon - Song From the End Of The World

Glacial Movements Records: 2016

Just another dark ambient album, that's all this was meant to be. I've reviewed countless of these, enjoyed most of them for their sonic narratives and explorations of dronescapes. I've even let my mind drift into escapism with some offerings, into realms while not hospitable, certainly provide solace in sensory deprivation. I certainly never let them 'get to me', affect my mood to such a degree that I need to step back for a bit, come back when I'm of better frame of mind. Much, much later. That Rapoon fella' though, he has a way of getting under your brain, tapping into parts of your psyche that seems all too willing to surrender its autonomy, utterly succumbing to whatever vibe he's crafting. And if that vibe happens to be an 'end of the world' motif, well, you can imagine that having the effect of bringing down your whole day.

Not that this isn't untapped material where Robin's discography is concerned. A good chunk of his Zoviet France days was spent twisting tapes into a weird, hypnotic cacophony of post-industrial horrors. As his career transitioned into Rapoon, however, his sonic travels generally drifted further away from such bleakness, at times even coming across jubilant while still adhering to those most primitive of musical instincts. By contrast, Song From The End Of The World sounds like a return to those roots. Not to say that Mr. Storey hasn't dabbled into Zoviet France styled stuff between then and here – I can't claim to have heard every Rapoon album – but of what I've listened to, this album re-captures those apocalyptic vibes quite nicely. And by nicely, I mean terrifying.

He doesn't waste any time getting right into the thick of it either. We Travelled In Waves does that warping loop-craft much of Rapoon's music entails, this time with a bleak piano and bell tones endlessly repeating while white noise hiss marinates everything in a suffocating stench. This goes on for quite a while, before abruptly shifting into eerie, twitchy minimalism, and discordant orchestral swells, all the while maintaining that hypnotic repetitiveness. When the piano returns, it's almost a sigh of relief, remarkable considering how unsettling it sounded at the start.

And it only gets more hopeless from there. A Listening Ice sounds like wailing wraiths trapped under Antarctic glaciers. A Sky Beckons Down brings in ghostly voices and tongues. A Prophecy Lies Under adds an orchestral to all the chanting. An Answer In Ice twists sounds in such a way they sound like flesh-ripping polar winds. And to tie things up, The Sky Dances In Green lays everything to waste. Serious 'World Of Ruin' vibes with this one, lasting well over eleven minutes. Take that 'leap of faith', Celes, you're better off.

It feels weird recommending Song From The End Of The World. It's not a headspace one should actively indulge in. If you're at all curious of the psychological power of dark ambient though, by all means give it a go.

Frame - The Journey

Glacial Movements Records: 2019

No way I could resist an album like this. The cover art alone invokes so many sonic possibilities, all of them frigid, remote, isolated, and barren – perfect summer music! And gosh, it looks like the whole label is like this, with familiar names like Rapoon, bvdub, Chihei Hatakeyama, Scanner, and Skare. Hello, my new obsession!

With no frame of reference, I went into this one cold (puns for days!). Doing a little background reading wouldn't have helped much anyway, this being Frame's lone entry within Lord Discogs' tomes. The players involved have been around many, many years though, with releases dating back to the early '90s. Andrea Benedetti was among the earliest adopters of Detroit techno out of Italy, heading up a few labels in support of such sounds at the time. He's also released sporadic material as Sprawl, but it seems DJing has been his primary passion. His Frame partner, Eugenio Vatta, has even less info on his Discogs page, but apparently has worked with Andrea since ye' olden days as well, skint though those releases are.

Apparently Frame is something of a long-running live P.A. project of improvised gigs performed at artsy shows. They never committed anything to CD, figuring the spontaneity of a live performance couldn't be replicated within a studio. That didn't stop them from recording many sessions though, building up a library of material for possible consideration. Thus it turned out with The Journey, an attempt at creating some sort of narrative from these disparate performances.

Ah, a journey as in the journey Andrea and Eugino have taken as Frame over the years? Sort of, but that'd make for a boring concept album. Ah, so a journey to the frozen clime's of our planet, as indicated on the cover art? No, not that either. Going by the tracklist, this is nothing less than a journey to the cosmic reaches of... just our solar system. Well hey, plenty to explore here.

Truthfully though, Frame opts for the ultra-minimalist scenic tour. Often played real quietly too. Things start out rather typically for a dark drone outing, Mercury imparting a foreboding tone, while Venus brings in creepy, echoing rattlers while static hisses in the background. Almost feels like you're in a steamy, sticky hot jungle, which kinda' makes sense for the Hell planet.

Things go extremely minimal after that though. Heck, most of Mars' eight-minute runtime is just a sustained tone (oddly relaxing mood for the War planet). From there, a lot of abstraction, a lot of experimentation, all played impossibly quiet, such that the sounds often fade into whatever background ambience surrounds you. Yes, even when played on headphones – the sound of your own heart beating may be louder than some of this stuff. It's not until Neptune that something harmonic emerges, with synth pads gradually building, while Pluto And Charon goes more industrial. And hey, The Arrival finally gives us some actual melody! Hoo boy, what a journey to get to it though.

Nacht Plank - Broad Tape Band

self-release: 2011

I feel like I've come full circle with this release, which is weird because I wasn't aware of travelling on any particular path. Maybe not so much a circle, but hexagon? A Fibonacci sequence spiral? Some sort of Lee Norris route that had me starting with a Nacht Plank album, and ending on a Nacht Plank album. Not that Alien and Broad Tape Band are the first or last of Lee's projects covered here. Of what I have checked out though, the former was the first of his solo outings, and I'm sure there will be other Norken, Metamatics, or Crowbar Stardust items down the line.

Somehow, I keep being drawn back to Nacht Plank, which is weird because I can't say it's among my favourite of Norris' projects, at least not enough for a full-on deep dive. Really, I only have this and Third Sacraments Council because they were among those Bandcamp giveaways he offered some years back. But hey, I liked that one, so maybe Broad Tape Band will bring something more to enjoy.

Eh? You remember me thinking Broad Tape Band as 'harsh'? Ah yes, I did mention that in the Alien review, after taking a small sampling of sounds. It wasn't hard coming to that conclusion skipping through tracks, eighteen in all. Only a few breach the four-minute mark, while several log in under three minutes. Plenty of space for weird sonic experiments with vintage gear, creating static bursts, sputtering sequencers and atonal drones. Not the most pleasant of noises to sit through, unless you're approaching things from a purely intellectual stance. Or are intimately familiar with the equipment used, and get your vibe on hearing the sounds coerced from them. For sure there are those out there who dig it, I'm just not one of them.

When Lee does let the music breathe a little, there is some nice stuff. I'll grant it's sporadic, and takes until track ten for such a thing to happen (at least for me), but A Plants Day In Stages at least feels like it's going somewhere, less about the abstract experimentation, and painting weird, avant garde minimalist portrait. Elsewhere, whatever 'songs' might have once existed in prior tracks are generally subsumed by glitchy noises or static noise. Only Paoiz hints at a song, but doesn't last long enough to stick in the brain.

But gosh, there's a real gentle melody to hang off on in Field Piano Form. A lovely little thing, piercing the analogue fuzz, occasionally drifting on dubby, metallic rhythms. It rather reminds me of Jam & Spoon's Ancient Dream, itself from their weirdo experimental album, Tripomatic Fairytales 2002, though not to such extremes as heard here. Speaking of 'remembering things', I swear some of the whirring noises in Sirron come from FSOL's Lifeforms, one of the interstitial bits. Or is it Henge I heard it? I dunno, all these whirring bits and transistor bloops kinda' run together after a while on this album.

Biosphere - Shenzhou

Touch/Biophone Records: 2002/2017

The ambient techno leanings had slowly been sifted away in Biosphere's body of work, but even as late as Cirque, you could hear trace elements still lingering in the music's DNA. With Shenzhou, such markers are basically gone, marking a turning point of sorts within Geir Jenssen's discography. More experimentation! More minimalism! More abstract sound-scapism! And a whole lot less drum machines, unless by way of sampled jazz loops. That trademark chilly atmosphere though, that can stay, even if it isn't so laser focused on space or tundra clime's.

I admit this period of Biosphere's work is mostly an enigma to me for this reason. Save Dropsonde (picked up because it just happened to be in the used store at the time) and some scattered tracks as found on Compilation 1991-2004, I never bothered to check any of it out, as it was the vintage ambient techno of yore that drew me into the Biosphere fold in the first place. When an artist says 'nuts to my past' in pursuit of creative freedom, I'm all for it, but that doesn't necessarily mean I have to follow their journey too, especially if I was only ever a casual fan in the first place. Or wait, was I? No, I'm pretty sure I was super-keen on Biosphere from the start, I just had little resources to find his stuff in my back-ass corner of Canadaland. Praise be The Internet!

It does make me wonder how I would have reacted to Shenzhou had Geir's music been consistently easier to find for yours truly. Like, coming into this with nearly twenty years of prepared hindsight (yes, I got this as part of his ongoing re-issue campaign), I know it's a different album than Patashnik or Substrata. I didn't know what kind of different it would be – certainly not Dropsonde different – but certainly a change of musical direction. I definitely didn't expect to be so heavily influenced from Wolfgang Voigt's Gas project.

Was this a major thing at the time? For sure Gas got a whole lot of critical praise for his manipulated orchestral-sample drone loops, even as far as Pitchfork recommendations (back when such a thing was the ultimate in hipster cred'). It had to set off some trends, even if in smaller circles. Not that Geir would be a chaser himself, but I'm sure he took a listen to Pop and thought, “Hmm, I have some old orchestral records. I could do something like that, in my own way.”

I suppose that's why Shenzhou falls more into the 'interesting' area of Biosphere's body of work rather than the 'captivating' category I prefer. Yes, it's interesting hearing these orchestral loops ebb and throb, even the aged crackle of the used vinyl becoming as much part of the atmosphere as artifacts of archaic technology. Plus, there's always that omnipresent atmosphere of lurking menace, creeping in the shadowy recesses of your mind. A journey inward then, rather than Biosphere's explorations of the world outward.

Dead Melodies - Primal Destination

Cryo Chamber: 2019

It's funny how circumstance can affect one's engagement with the music they consume. For sure we want suitable soundtracks to the events of our lives: rockin', high energy stuff for heading out on the town; chill, unobtrusive sounds for downtimes; smooth grooves for sexy shenanigans. When some feel glum and gloom, there's nothing like a little dark ambient to placate the mood. And four years ago, I was feelin' that dark ambient vibe indeed. Yeah, I'd been intrigued by the genre for a couple years prior, but after that happened... hoo boy. Possibly some of my most inspired prose was written during that period, regarding this particular style of music.

Yet things kinda' seem just a bit... better now? Not as good as they could or should be, oh no. Just... better. Makes me wonder whether dark ambient all-oppressive mood will be as relatable anymore, or will return to the 'conceptual escapism' status I previous held it as.

I haven't kept much tab on Dead Melodies since I last reviewed the project, but Tom Moore does remain active, especially in the year 2020. He's even gone a little noir with Zenjungle in Anthropocene, which I may pick up down the line, but for now, we're in high-concept territory in this album, Primal Destination.

In fact, we're getting in on a little sci-fi action here, if the miniscule spaceman in the cover art wasn't enough of an indication. I suppose the astrophysics patterns and and ancient stargate is a handy clue too. Or is this an inter-dimensional portal? This cover has me thinking space, but many of the track titles don't really suggest as such: Superdrone Descent, Pearlescent Dawn, Subterraformed, Glades. Gosh, now that I look at the figure on the cover harder, I wonder if that's even a spacesuit. Looks more like radiation garb, the sort of thing one might wear when traversing volcanic regions. No, don't go in there! Who knows what horrors you'll find! Dammit, why don't they listen when I'm screaming at them from my meatspace?

Primal Destination starts out relatively calm and tranquil in that cinematic drone sort of way, the first couple tracks lulling you into a sense of serenity. Third piece Pearlescent Dawn comes off more ominous though, as though your environment is growing more askew the further you travel. And while Glades may initially conjure images dewy, rolling hills of grass, there's nothing peaceful about Mr. Moore's use of field recordings here, the sort of sounds that will have you jumping at shadows from the periphery of your sight (damn you, Xtro!).

From there, it's the steady descent into, well, primal thoughts and instincts, your reptile brain getting all itchy and twitchy from the sounds Dead Melodies utilizes. Save some orchestral manipulations in Fields Of Sleep, it's not until final track The Wake Of Man does something resembling calm and rationality enter back into the discourse. Ah, the steadying breath of the wise man's brain in action.

Moljebka Pvlse - Discourse On Lightness

Reverse Alignment: 2017

I'd forgotten how intimidating it was venturing away from the comforting warm embrace of Cryo Chamber for my dark ambient and drone fix. So many artists out there, with distinct traits and approaches, all with strange exotic artwork. It's been a spell since I last took in a release from Reverse Alignment, and for good reason. I'd more or less tapped out all the names I was already familiar with (Ajna, Dronny Dark, SiJ) and had mostly sprung for all the albums with artwork that caught my eye (your Graders, The Long Journeys, and Buried On Vanths). Beyond that would be completely uncharted territory for yours truly, no easing in.

So headfirst into Discourse On Lightness I dove, for no other reason than it was catalogued nearby other albums I'd picked up from Reverse Alignment. And as is so often the case, I plucked out an artist with a fairly common story when it comes to these experimental drone sorts. Moljibeka Pvlse started releasing material in the early 2000's, floated about many labels (Cold Meat Industry, Fifth Week Records, AudioTONG, Gears Of Sand, Some Place Else) while maintaining his own label on the side (Isoramara). He eventually landed on Reverse Alignment, debuting there with A Transformation. Wait, that's not right. He actually appeared there a tad sooner, as the man behind Moljibeka Pvlse is Mathias Josefson, who was also part of Skare (of Grader fame). Huh, so I didn't go into this so utterly blind as I first thought.

Discourse On Lightness is Moljibeka Pvlse's second album on this label, with a yin-yang approach to the offered compositions. Three pieces are featured, each hovering around the twenty-minute mark (on the relative short side of things, where Josefson drone pieces are concerned). From the outset of A History Of Levitation, you're hit was one of those multi-layered, atonal, wall-of-sound drones that doesn't feel calm or relaxing in the slightest. I'd almost call it confrontational, but there's something strangely subtle about it too, like an undercurrent of melody that lulls you in for the duration. Supposedly, this is the 'yin' portion of the album.

Makes sense, as follow-up Between Lightness And Luminance is all about that stripped-down, minimalist, avante-garde symphonic sound. Sparse discordant strings, echoing field recordings and hushed vocal noises in empty chambers, creating a rather tense atmosphere as it plays out. The third track, A Field Guide To The Sunrise bridges the gap (completes the circle? fills the symbol?) between the two, mostly minimalist as well, morphing through creepier strings, bells and tones, but eventually transitioning into a rather tranquil, soothing stretch of ambience as the piece slowly winds down. Why yes, the 'sunrise' theme is quite apt.

So an interesting outing, this. Can't say I was a fan of the first two pieces, but the third does help put them in clearer context when taking in the album as a whole. As for how it relates to all the old-timey art within the inlay, I haven't a clue.

Susumu Yokota - Sakura

Skintone/Leaf: 1999/2000

(a Patreon Request from Omskbird)

It wasn't much to go off from just one track, but Susumu Yokota's contribution to Tangent 2002 was a highlight among a compilation filled with highlights. Such skill in weaving a simple nouveau disco tune, I mentally bookmarked the name, figuring he'd be one to scope out more of at later date. Then I saw how wide-ranging and expansive his discography was, and realized a proper deep-dive would be quite the undertaking indeed. The dude started out on Harthouse, for crissake. Harthouse! I assumed he first popped up in the wake of emergent disco deep house of the late '90s, yet there he was, already releasing material that must be among the most obscure items the Frankfurt print ever put out.

But yes, Yokota-san truly came to prominence toward the end of the decade when his house records were getting attention across seas. It didn't turn him into a house-hold name or anything (hefty import fees from half a globe away didn't help), but house-heads in the know would always tip their hat and stroke their beard with a nod should a Susumu tune make an appearance.

Thus I was eager to hear Sakura, a request finally getting me on that overdue deeper-dive. Then I realized, oh dear, there's so much more to his catalogue of music than nifty house and retro techno. So very, very much more. Ambient! Modern classical! Odd sound experiments! That harmonic Japanese thing that only they seem capable of doing and are so good at doing that no other culture has come close to doing, thus forever owning it, mang. They own it!

So this is a very chill album, which I was not expecting, but definitely something Susumu dabbled in from time to time. The fact this came out at the height of his 'peak house years' makes it a rather interesting record, almost a companion passion project wedged between 1998 and 1999. Then again, it does come back to that 'self-release' option, Sakura coming out on his own Skintone, while his house records were released through Sublime Records (no, not that Sublime Records; a Japanese one). Interestingly, the album saw a release in the UK under Leaf, a rather eclectic print where I see Manitoba residing (aka: Caribou; aka: that actual Canadian who sounded like Boards Of Canada).

*whew* How about some actual music talky-talk then, eh? Ah, I'm afraid it's one of those albums that are difficult to detail, what with abstract loops, deep pleasant tones, and lovely minimalist harmonies dominating the songcraft. There are a couple outlier tracks, like Genshi with its steady techno pulse, Hisen with a trip-hop thing going for it, the nu-jazz business of Naminote, and Kodomatachi predicting what 'dream pop' may sound like. Beyond that, however, Sakura's musical eclecticism mostly amounts to sonic doodles and sketches. It rather reminds me of Omnimotion's debut album (oh hi, obscure name-drop), though less emphasis on the dub and a clear Japanese lean. Will probably grow on me just as much that lush record did too.