Ylid - Transcend!

Unknown Tone Records: 2014

I kept getting this album and Le Moors' Tendrils mixed up, and not just because they're side-by-side in my current queue, nor because they're both items from Unknown Tone Records. It's the cover art, see, with that muted beige-yellow border, and a blue-something in the middle. Having absolutely no prior knowledge of who either act were, they naturally meshed into my mind as a singular entity, for so long leading me to believe Ylid was Le Moors, and Transcend! was Tendrils. In fact, the only way any of this stood out to me as something distinct from the other is when my new Sony Walkman MP3 player would oddly default first to the Ylid album whenever I plugged it into whatever car I was renting for this past summer's road trips. And boy howdy did it ever leave an impression with that Chant track being the kick off. Ain't nothing like hearing heavily synthy 'aahh's just as you're about to hit the open road, believe you me. Who knew Ylid was a fan of Skin To Skin?

Anyhow, it seems we're back to the outright obscure material again, very little information available regarding Ylid via my usual Discoggian means. One Robert Lyon, he released some half-dozen mini-albums and EPs throughout the mid-'00s, then disappeared for a spell before reappearing out of the blue with this album for Unknown Tone. The only connection I can find between these two periods of Robert's music-making career is Tim Martin, whom he worked with as the short-lived project Somme. Tim Martin's career has been more fruitful, especially as Maps & Diagrams, which led him to Unknown Tone along the way (among other labels I've name-dropped in the past). That good will likely helped give Somme some in with Unknown Tone, after which Robert got to dust off his Ylid project for the label as well. So it does all tie together, guy, but boy, are these ever tenuous strings used.

That's a huge chunk of word count burned getting through particulars, which always means I don't have much to say regarding the actual music within Transcend! It's quite clear Ylid comes from the indie side of things, the Kid A influences dripping throughout the album. Sparse electric and acoustic guitar plucking, fizzy-poppy glitchy treatments, overlaying ambient drone tones, abstract twee electronics, all presented in a sketch-book sort of manner. It's clear Mr. Lyon has lots of little ideas for minimalist compositions, but isn't sure how to present them as a cohesive whole, so here they all are as emerged straight from his brain matter.

For sure there are a few that grab my attention. Thames has a peppy, dreamy pulse going for it, while tracks like Volume Of Air, Overhead and Death Thoughts do the thick, layered reverb ambience nicely. Can't say much else does it for me though, but hey, if you prefer your experimental music from a post-rock angle, this may come off better.

Anduin - Stolen Years

SMTG Limited: 2012

When I saw this in an online shop, I knew I had to get it sight-unheard. That cardboard border, the artful picture, the unrecognizable musician with post-rock ties... it must be a new Slaapwel Records release! Never mind the label's only released one (1) new item in the two years I first discovered them.

But nay, 'tis not an unearthed Slaapwel Records album. That there's a whopping eight tracks is proof alone, much less the fact they all average around four to six minutes in length. It is an interesting item I've stumbled upon though, and once again I have nothing but my over-eager, hunter-gatherer purchasing instinct to thank for it. Seldom have I been led astray by such impulsive actions, and it was nice of Anduin to keep the faith alive a little longer.

Not to be confused with the Matthew Dear project Audion – because I know your brain has been doing that from the moment you saw the header – Anduin is the brainchild of Jonathan Lee, a chap who's floated about various rock bands these past couple decades. Some were punk, some were post, and some were whatever eclectic ideas were flowing freely in a given jam session. This naturally led Mr. Lee to explore the instrumental, abstract side of his muse, giving rise to Anduin, a project that lasted about half a decade, seemingly mothballed since 2015. Stolen Years was the last full-length record released under the guise.

With absolutely no idea of what to expect going in, I wasn't even sure I'd ended up with a 'music' record as Behind The Voyeur's Wall Of Glass started. So quiet, so subdued, and are those sounds of children playing coming from the track, or the park across from my apartment? Also, someone get WD-40 on that squeaky door stat, why don't ya'? A moody synth tone burbles in and out, a kick that sounds like someone bouncing a basketball emerges, and a lonely saxophone jam adds a creaky blues vibe. It's all rather bleak, but in a melancholic sort of way, like reflecting on one's decrepit life from the confines of a weathered, abandoned flat.

Much of Stolen Years plays out like that: prominent looping field recordings placing you within a vivid setting (so much dirt and grit), sinewy synth pads crafting lonesome moods and tones, and collaborator Jimmy Graphery providing saxophone or flute solos adding human soul to the proceedings. Only final track Irene breaks the mould, shooting for an opulent wall-of-sound ambient outing for closure.

What I find so interesting about Stolen Years is despite the rather simple elements in play, it's extremely difficult pinpointing exactly what kind of music this is. The closest comparison I can come up with is the dark ambient jazz of Phonothek, but not so oppressive and bleak as that duo goes. Stolen Years feels much too intimate to be dark ambient, yet not so lost up its rectum to be jazz. A curious, addictive one, this.

Pleq - Our Words Are Frozen

dataObscura: 2010

This was my doorway into the world of dataObscura, in case you're wondering. Oh, you're not? Well, I'm gonna' feed you the wonder whether you like it or not, for that self-imposed word count won't burn itself through discussion of the actual music within (such as it is, but more on that in a bit). As you may recall (it's been many months), I did a review on Pleq's collaboration with Segue for Databloem, The Seed. Segue was my intro to Pleq, but in doing the obligatory Discoggian research, I took in a nice gaze of Pleq's extended catalogue, this album in particular catching my eye. Like, there's just something about frozen vistas that my mind is impeccably drawn to. Arctic, alpine, ice balls in deep space... just send me to the places where time and motion remains in near-perpetual stasis. And naturally, where one album resides, surely th'ar be more near-abouts, leading me to the dataObscura options out there. Ooh, so many more examples of snowy cover art. Sci-fi stuff too! Must... consume... more...

Now that I'm dealing with Pleq specifically, here's what you need to know. Goes by Bartosz Dziadosz when dealing with the driver's depot. Classically trained, but prefers staying in the lane of glitchy dronescapes. Released quite the bundle of solo and collaborative albums at the turn of the decade, though seems to have slowed some as of late. Has also released on Dronarivm, Chemical Tapes, Murmur Records, Progressive Form, Ginjoha, Pocket Fields, Felt, and The Long Story Recording Company. Ooh, that could be a cool label, if they got Ian McKellen or Morgan Freeman to do the recordings. Not so much Ben Stein or Gilbert Godfrey. That's assuming they even do actual long stories, and not just have it as a clever label name. One thing's for sure though, even the above narrators couldn't make this aimless rambling listenable.

Man, I wish I had more to say about Our Words Are Frozen. I so wanted to have a lot more to say, but Pleq isn't giving me much to work with here. And yes, that kinda' is The Point, sounds so minimalist it practically forces you to clear all the clutter in your brain if you're to have any hope of focusing on the sparse drones and static fluff. Glitchy echoes and sporadic skittery percussion have you feeling like you're lost inside frozen desolation, while minute tones suggest melancholic moods, but are never beholden to them either. In some ways, I'm reminded of Andrew Heath's compositions, but he always has destinations in mind with his works, slow and languid though they are (all the better to take in the scenery). Pleq would rather have you remain fixated on specific moments and thoughts, letting them slowly erode from your consciousness, morphing through repetition as it melts into abstract memory. Challenging soundscapes, is what I'm say Our Words Are Frozen is, though highly recommended played at high volume. Let those drones envelope your being, yo'!

Twincities - Memoirs: To Dust

Unknown Tone Records: 2015

Is this really the first Unknown Tone Records album I'm reviewing? I feel like I've touched upon them at some point before. Maybe a name-drop from an associated producer? I guess I technically covered the Lee Norris and Porya Hatami collaboration Every Day Feels Like A New Drug, though that was via a digital version offered by Mr. Norris, not the original CD as released by Unknown Tone. I can only assume that's how I came across this label the first place, after which I must have visited their Bandcamp, spotted a CD bundle deal, ordered a bunch of stuff, and ended up with a pile of albums I barely have any recollection of getting. Having reviewed most of my old collection, methinks this blog has turned into nothing more than a glorified record of how I'm getting all my new stuff. It's grown increasingly difficult keeping track of it all, what with too many options now available to indulge my weakest impulse. Why can't I be internet addicted to something more traditional, like gambling or porn?

Twincities is Fletcher McDermott, an individual that doesn't have much Discoggian presence beyond his work for this project. I assume he's done work elsewhere, just because he seems like the sort of chap who'd have plied his trade with a variety of indie or abstract musicians around the Long Island region. Or this project is just something he does in his spare time, his day job some mundane thing that's prevented him from expanding further into the domain of 'fifty releases in one decade' ambient producers. Wouldn't surprise me, given the state of living conditions in the New York City region. Music don't pay the bills like it used to there. In fact, did it ever? Maybe in the grimy '70s.

Mr. McDermott describes his music as 'noisy ambiance', though there's nothing terribly racket-inducing about his stuff. Nay, he makes very calm, minimalist droning material, with static and glitch treatments giving his sparse arrangements a lived-in feeling. It's not too dissimilar to Porya Hatami, come to think of it, which makes sense they'd both appear on the same label. And sparked my interest enough to spring for a few albums off them in the process. It's all coming back to me, guys!

Also, as the album's title implies, a hazy sense of faded memories permeates the mood, whether of wandering urban locals or sitting at home with some long forgotten classical music tugging at the back of your mind. He does have a few musicians contribute for those moments (Ysanne Spevack on cello, Tanya Lam on viola), but they serve the mood of the pieces rather than take lead in any way. Well, maybe at the end of A Stuck Bird, their soothing tones coming after the most abrasive stretch of static-drone Memoirs: To Dust subjects you to. Also, damn but does that steel-pedal guitar drone in A Flown Bird ever stretch to the furthest reaches of the horizon. Fly on, my son.

Harold Budd - Luxa

All Saints: 1996/2018

So I got myself a box of Budd. I was stunned to discover such a thing existed, and kinda' relieved too. There's just so much Budd to sample out there now, different flavours for different moods, such that one can get lost figuring out where to begin. And yeah, I've sampled a little Budd in the past, toked on the obvious flavours as cultivated by Brian Eno. There's so much more in Budd's bowl than The Pearl and Ambient 2 (The Plateaux Of Mirror) though. Sure, I'll find myself in familiar territory of calm, soothing haze of pleasant piano tones no matter which album I dab on, but surely there's a bluffer's guide of his various musical crops. Indeed there is, the Budd Box, with six albums from his first fifteen years of releases. Yeah, that's but a third of Budd's total output in that time-frame, but as I said, I'm after a bluffer's guide, not a compendium.

By alphabetical decree, the first album I'm reviewing in the Budd Box is Luxa, which also happens to be the last album in the Budd Box. Or rather, the most recent, released in the near-times of 1996. Considering this box-set was initially released in 2013, it seems funny that the Budd Box only went that far into his discography. No interest in any of his post-Millennium material? Though considering there isn't a detailed Wiki entry for Luxa, it's fair to say even his more well-known works retain but a niche audience to this day.

I do wish there was a Wiki for Luxa though, in that this is an odd-ball album, and I'd love to have more background info on it. Harold himself calls it a “decorative thing”, in that it's him exploring different facets of his various musical backgrounds, in that artsy sort of way you'd expect of a student of the minimalist avant-garde.

Thus we get four segments in Luxa, the first of which is titled Butterflies With Tits - I think that's the title of the cover-art too. The longest segment, it features pieces titled after various artists in various fields (Agnes Martin, Serge Polakoff, Paul McCarthy, Anish Kapoor... you may have heard of some of them), and touches on the various keyboard tones Mr. Budd had since incorporated into his repertoire. It ain't just 'soft pedal' pianos, yo'! There's moody pads, flowing synths, and even some light jazzy percussion too.

Following that is the ultra-short Inexact Shadows segment, three short piano pieces that you'd probably think was one, single, two-fifteen minute composition. Smoke Trees, on the other hand, gets into the pure ambient side of Budd's muse, long drawn-out pieces noodling about in a calm, abstract manner, a little light percussion joining the pads and organ tones every so often. The final segment, Laughing Innuendos, features a weird contrast between its two pieces, Marion Brown doing the modern classical piano thing, and Steven Brown doing a ...piercing organ thing? Gosh, that tone almost sounds 16-bit. Oddly familiar, that.

Brasil & The Gallowbrothers Band - In The Rain, In The Noise

Cat Sun: 2010

I admit I'm not the most adventurous of music consumers, generally sticking to the lanes I'm most comfortable in. Like, compared to some vinyl hounds out there, who buy anything they find just to add to the piles in their sheds, I tend to be a little more selective. I'm not one to dive into second-hand shops or yard sales gathering up the numerous Anne Murray and Gordon Lightfoot compilations I find – heck, I don't even buy every Neil Young album, and I likes me some Neil Young more than others. When I do tread beyond my boundaries, it's almost always due to incidental circumstances that I do – taking on someone's former music collection, for instance. Turns out, there's another method of exploration I never knew existed, one that Databloem provided: the mystery splurge!

At their online website, they give you the option of a 'surprise box' of either ten or twenty CDs from their backstock, which had me rubbing my beard as I arched an eyebrow ever so inquisitively. The back of my conscience advised me that these selections couldn't possibly be the best they had to offer, most likely items that had failed to sell-through in their initial runs, and were now being offered as an enticing package to help clear stock. To which the hoarder in my brain responded, “Yes, and?” What if something unexpected and unique came about from this offer, leading me to a fresh path of musical discovery I hadn't considered yet? Plus, this being Databloem, I was confident they wouldn't go that far astray from what I was familiar with. Surely some mundane post-rock was the worst I had to brace myself for.

I honestly might have already covered an album or two from that 'surprise box' purchase, but this one was definitely the first that leaped out for me, exactly what I figured would be the bulk of what I was in for. Brasil & The Gallowbrothers Band is a group name that fits the post-rock bill, as does a title like In The Rain, In The Noise, with song titles like After Dark I Only Hear The Echoes Of Their Footsteps and Another Night In Cottage No. 21. This seems modus operani for this trio of Domink Savio, T.E.R., and Tomek Mirt, who've flitted about the Polish abstract-ambient scene for the past two decade now under various projects and guises, this particular album the last under this particular alias.

And there's some cool sounding stuff on here, a quirky, trippy minimalism that touches upon ambient's more psychedelic aspects - Spider Is Awaken sure reminds me of The Orb's Spanish Castles In Space in capturing pastoral chill. Still, this is all a very indie rock approach to the music, which seldom succeeds in drawing me in the same way as traditional ambient does. I don't know why that is. You'd have to deep-dive into my brain to figure that one out, and really, who want's to do that?

The Fires Of Ork - The Fires Of Ork

Fax +49-69/450464/Biophon Records: 1993/2000/2018

Hot damn, Geir's gone and done it! Like, I saw no reason why he couldn't if he wanted to, as the Namlook estate's been quite generous in sharing music rights with previous collaborators of Mr. Kaulmann. For some reason though, I felt The Fires Of Ork was the holy grail of Biosphere projects, the original album released between Microgravity and Patashnik, when Geir still had an inclination towards techno's rhythmic pulse. He was so swift in moving on from music with a little dancefloor groove, it's clear it wasn't a sound he was terribly fond of revisiting, even in a reissued format.

Even the whole Fires Of Ork project seemed nothing more than a one-off pairing, Pete Namlook and Biosphere heading off in rather different paths shortly after. Pete had found his niche (relentless work-rate, endless collaborations, label management), Geir had found his (icy minimalist ambient with expansive field recordings), and that was that, The Fires Of Ork just another of the multitude of very interesting projects to have passed through the Fax+ studios.

And an interesting album The Fires Of Ork is, if for no other reason to hear just how much each performer's style meshes, mashes, and mixes with the other. The titular opener and closer does the ambient 'bleep' techno thing that you'd associate with Phase 1 Biosphere, but has that spacey trancey vibe so distinct of early-era Namlook (plus: ear-wormy Blade Runner sample – dude loved him some Blade Runner samples). Meanwhile, Gebirge attempts a vintage twenty-minute Fax+ ambient excursion, but Pete and Geir's sounds and arrangements are so minimalist, it doesn't feel like it goes much of anywhere. Faring better is the straight-forward light trance of Talk To The Stars, and the eighteen-minute chill-out session of The Facts Of Life, where the distinct sounds of each player actually complement each other as though hearing two musicians feeding off their contributions.

While The Fires Of Ork was interesting for what it added to the Fax+ legacy, it was a small surprise that Pete and Geir teamed-up again in the year 2000 for The Fires Of Ork 2. Though not incompatible, it was clear from The Fires Of Ork there wasn't much room for music exploration between their differing ambient styles. Half a decade on, and both definitely having evolved since the early '90s, where would their muses meet for another session?

Leaving the 'bleep techno' well behind, that's for certain. Compared to the paranoid sci-fi tone of the first album, The Fires Of Ork 2 is very mellow, Biosphere's open, minimalist approach mostly dominating. Pete works in some nice pad work in In Heaven, while Sky Lounge sounds like we're chilling near an Ibizan shore with the rings of Saturn hovering over the shoreline, but we're in pure mood music territory with this album. Well, except Nouvelles Machines, which has a weird dubby, clicky noise with sparse electronic bleepy-beeps befitting a retro sci-fi movie. Can't shake those 'bleep techno' roots, I guess.

Porya Hatami & Darren McClure - In-Between Spaces

...txt: 2015

You'd think after a dozen years of doing this, I'd know how to avoid the aftermath. Indeed, I've done everything in the How To Avoid Post-Festival Flu handbook, and yet I still get hit with some bout of sickness after coming home from Shambhala. To be fair, the dusty farm environment makes it a challenge even under the best conditions. Not only do you have some twenty thousand souls kicking up dirt, but also all the cow-patty particulates that populate the pasture year-round. Wearing a handkerchief or bandana for cover helps, and I even take things a step further with medical masks when I know I'll be working in a super-heavy dust area for a while (those parking lots get it bad). Throw in the killer combo of extreme temperature changes (oh God, the heat this year!), and all around tom-foolery and chicanery that comes with any music festival, no matter how 'responsible' one remains, and yeah, it's no surprise folks come away from them feelin' the flu, even veterans who should know better. Or maybe I just get an allergic reaction to the being back in the rat-race so soon after a week out. Yeah, let's go with that instead!

So coming back, feeling down with the sickness, but still having to drag my sagging ass to work, you can forgive my lack brain power for a brief while following Shamb's. Getting the ol' writing juices flowing again sometimes takes a little effort, a little inspiration, a little kick in the cerebellum-butt. On the other hand, it's nice to ease back into things with a little sonic fluff, musical cotton-candy that doesn't require much in the way of actual analysis and critique, an album where I can spend the bulk of a review waxing on about anecdotal bull before getting into the meat 'n grits of the CD. Yes, this here In-Between Spaces from Porya Hatami and Darren McClure will do nicely.

I've gone over Mr. Hatami's work a fair deal now, and you might remember Mr. McClure from such collaborative projects like Memex. I honestly forgot he was a part of that though, and I wrote the review of that album with Lee Norris only a year ago! For a brief refresher, Darren's something of an abstract ambient journeyman, and possibly came into association with Porya either via their time spent in Japan, or their works released through Inner Ocean Records (because I gotta' give Canadian labels all attention they can get).

In-Between Spaces is a modest little collection of ambient pieces, only five tracks long, ranging from seven to twelve minutes in length. It's all very minimalist with soft, glitchy effects and static fuzz warping distant pianos, pads and field recordings. At points, I'm surprised just how natural some of these effects sound. Like, is that actual rain fall in Summer Rain, or treated static? Sends me into sweet, soothing calm of mental contentment, either way, as does the rest of In-Between Spaces. Mmm, recovery sleep...

Various - Hyperdub 10.3

Hyperdub: 2014

Wait, Hyperdub did ambient music too? Well, yeah, guy, of course they did. Doesn't everyone? Mind, what you consider ambient is probably a rather narrow niche of sonic padding and lengthy doodling, but that doesn't mean other scenes can't have their kick at the can with their own beatless interpretations of abstract art music, especially ones where 'dub' production is seen as the norm. While many musicians have taken the original Eno concept down radically divergent paths, that doesn't mean folks in the UK garage scene haven't felt the influence of spacious sounds filling sonic gaps between heavy bangers and the ephemeral void leading you to the Land Of Nod. Even 'gaihr-idge' heads need their comedown music, mate.

Still, it's not like Hyperdub has any dedicated musicians making just ambient music, or even much ambient adjacent music on the regular. Rather, they'll craft little interludes and quiet sound experiments as part of a larger album narrative (or a B2 on a single). As such, most of the twenty-three 'ambient' tracks on offer with Hyperdub 10.3 hover around the two-to-three minute mark, some not even reaching ninety seconds in length. Which urges the question, exactly what the point of this particular compilation is? Like, I get you wanted an excuse to show off more Burial, and certainly his two pieces of At McDonald's and Night Bus were key elements of what made Untold the seminal work of post-clubbing reflective misery that it was. However, sixty-four seconds of chopped pad tones from Dean Blunt and Inga Copeland comes off as redundant filler on a CD that's already technically filled with the filler of other LPs.

Most of these pieces are of such nature, taking the Hyperdub notions of urban digital editing to the realm of wallpaper music. It does provide a unique take on ambient, though it isn't that far removed from the glitchy realm of IDM experiments. It's interesting that two such disparate scenes could arrive at similar sonic points though – gotta' love all that easily accessible production software! Heck, some of this stuff could fit in with the noise camps, like DVA's Reach The Devil, and Jeremy Greenspan & Borys' Gage, which ends the whole CD off with an awful aural assault before abruptly ending. Kewl.

Personally though, I prefer it when things go for the urban-soul Burial mould, as in Cooly G's Mind and Trying, or Lee Gamble's DSM. But let's not leave out the retro-ghetto stylings of Darkstar's Ostkreuz, or the near synthwavey pieces from Ikonika's Time/Speed and Completion V.3. Wait, synthwave, in a Hyperdub collection? What timeline is this?

Then there's more traditional stuff, like The Bug's five-minute long Siren, and the super-traditional stuff, as in Fhloston Paradigm's Liloo's Seduction. Seriously, this production from the King Britt alias brings to mind '70s Berlin-School, and lasts ten minutes in length. On a CD where only three other tracks break the four-minute mark, Liloo's Seduction might as well be a double-LP composition.

Biosphere - Compilation 1991-2004

Biophon Records: 2012/2017

Now isn't this just a right dandy little item Geir Jenssen's given us. As Biosphere, he released few actual albums throughout his first fifteen years of music making, but each one was a bonafide classic of ambient and frigid techno, making fans squirm and itch for more material. There were collaborations with Pete Namlook (Fires Of Ork) and Higher Intelligence Agency, but if you fancied yourself a true Biosphere completist, you'd have to do some serious sleuthing and digging, many tracks exclusive to compilations littered among his discography. Some of these weren't too hard find – even I could find copies of Trance Europe Express 3 on my local store shelves – but chances are you'd have to come from the hinterlands of Norway to snag yourself a copy of Nova Norvegia – (Get) Into The Arctic Groove. To say nothing of the outright obscurity of a Denmark museum collection in Krydsfelt – Norpol. I imagine even the peer-to-peer juggernauts of old had trouble tracking that one down.

Well fuss no more, Biosphere Completists, for Geir has gathered all his wayward offspring between the years 1991 and 2004 into a tidy 2CD compilation, titled, um, Compilation 1991-2004 - doesn't beat around the lichen moss, does it? Of course, if you really want to fancy yourself a true-proper Biosphere Completist, you'll still hunt down all those CDs these tracks were sprung from. For sensible people though, this will suffice.

Although, having listened through this now, I wonder if Compilation: My First Fifteen Years has any appeal beyond only the most die-hard Biosphere disciples. There's no denying Mr. Jenssen's frigid oeuvre can leave some folks cold (hah!). Yet whether you prefer his bleep techno beginnings, desolate field recordings, or looping drone, few come away from his work without at least thinking, “Hm, that's interesting.” And this double-discer touches base on all these aspects, but if you were coming in here looking for brilliant exclusives that never made an album cut, you've come to the wrong place indeed.

There isn't much from his techno days, opener Hypnophone the lone cut with any sort of beat among these fifteen tracks. The Third Planet and The Seal & The Hydrophone (Geir has a fascination for hydrophones) do the bleep ambient thing that marked his second album. By four tracks in though, we're already in the year 1997, when the minimalist abstraction really started taking hold of the Biosphere muse. Knives In Hens and Superfluid features some of the most experimental samples and drones Geir's ever produced, tediously so. At least the gentle ambience of Bird Watching and Sun-Baked end CD1 on a pleasant note.

CD2 is generally more consistent, as Mr. Jenssen's figured out how to craft his abstraction sampling into compositions with direction and focus, despite sometimes taking forever getting there (such a lonely road in Vi Kan Tenka Digitalt, Vi Kan Tala Digitalt). If you can't mess with ultra-minimalism though, well, you probably haven't bothered with post-Millennium Biosphere anyway.

Tangerine Dream - Zeit

Ohr/Esoteric Reactive: 1972/2011

Probably not the most influential or important album in Tangerine Dream's discography, but certainly a very big step in the development of their sound. After a couple LPs pushing the fringes of psychedelic rock music, Edgar Froese and Christopher Franke found the traditional instruments of the genre – guitar and drums – getting in the way of their experimental, freeform ideas. Out they went, making room for more synths, including a new-fangled sampler called the Mellotron (aka: that keyboard that could emulate orchestral strings and choirs, much to the chagrin of the Musician's Union). They also brought in a new organist in Peter Baumann, solidifying the Tangerine Trio that would go on to make much of their definitive '70s work. And finally, quite enamoured with what abstractionists could coerce out of these cumbersome keyboards, the band jettisoned almost any semblance of melody or traditional musical structure, creating four near-twenty minute compositions of minimalist sounds and alien harmonies. Either that, or those archaic analogue units took a fair bit of time to figure out, so create conceptual art kosmikmusiche until you do.

Naturally, this left Zeit a somewhat controversial album upon its release, especially when stuffy rock music journalists from the UK couldn't make much sense of it. Sure, they'd embraced psychedelic bands like Pink Floyd and Yes, but at least they were British. These Germans though, with their weirdness and mainland Europeaness, probably just didn't get rock music the way the lads of England did. Let them krauts have their krautrock. Of course, the rock world would soon turn on prog-rockers for similar artistic excesses, but by then Tangerine Dream were well into defining a new kraft of Berlin school.

Still, it's undeniable Zeit's a bit much to take in if you don't know what you're getting in for. Even among the group's vast catalogue, it's an album that stands in stark contrast to everything else, an admitted dive into minimalism they felt was a creative dead-end. For sure the players involved are proud of the work, but once they got the handle on their new studio toys, it wasn't long before things like melody and structure came back.

That said, I cannot deny there's something weirdly captivating in Zeit, the sort of other-worldly vibe that makes you feel like you're riding shotgun with Dave Bowman to the eighth dimension. The opening Movement (yes, we're going that pretentious) features discordant cellos settling you into an uneasy space before calmer pastures emerge. Also featured is the musical styling of Florian Fricke and his big modular Moog, the only one of its kind in Germany at the time. With these extra components, Birth Of Liquid Plejades is probably the most dynamic of the four Zeit Movements, the remaining three (Nebulous Dawn, Origin Of Supernatural Probabilities, Zeit) extremely quiet, meandering, and minimalist. It all makes better sense as score work, which some must have noticed as Tangerine Dream would get tapped to do soundtracks in such legendary films like Sorcerer and Legend.

Dag Rosenqvist - Elephant

Dronarivm: 2016

As I trawl through Dronarivm albums, one thing's become clear to me: they don't really have a set roster of artists to their name. Rather, they welcome many a journeyman (and journeywoman) for a release or two, most of which already have extensive discographies behind them. Not that Dronarivm can help it, the Moscow print being in existence for a mere half-decade at this point. Either their A&R are quite efficient in bringing in veteran talent, or they quickly established a rep that made all these abstract ambient, drone-classical dudes and dudettes eager to contribute to the Dronarivm catalogue. Fair play I say, since the label's introduced me to a ton of musicians that I'd never have stumbled upon otherwise.

Maybe this Dag Rosenqvist though, as he's got quite the history in music making. His career started out as Jasper TX, releasing albums throughout the mid-'00s that leaned towards the post-rock side of things. As time went on, his guitar strums grew more abstract and droning, which has acts like Fennesz and Tim Hecker popping up in Lord Discogs' Recommendations algorithms. During this period he collaborated with other musicians under his own name, and when he retired the Jasper TX project in 2011, carried on making music as such. And he's played a part in other assorted groups like From The Mouth Of The Sun and The Silent Set. With over thirty albums to his name, the amount of labels he's appeared on is extensive, with almost none drawing recollection in my eyes (ooh, waz' this Slaapwel Records?). Just how many post-rock, ambient fuzz prints even exist?

So obviously ol' Dag has made more music than I can reasonably take in to give this here Elephant perspective among his works. From what I can glean, it touches upon many facets of his muse, tying everything together under a pseudo-narrative of dealing with tumultuous emotions long after we're told to have moved on from them. Gentle, quiet passages are interrupted with brutal distortion (oh God, does Porcelain ever do this). Touching piano leitmotifs lead to mournful reflections with horns and cellos. Tension is built through muted percussion and twitchy drone, erupting in abrasive climaxes that, even after knowing they're coming, still throws me off with dread anticipation. Throughout it all, Elephant almost cruelly teases, tugs, and toys with your senses, and I have no doubt this album captures a rather bad day for those suffering from crippling anxiety, even while doing something as simple as “out grocery shopping” or “when you ride your bike to work”, as Dag puts it. (he apparently went through some difficult times himself).

The album all plays out like a soundtrack to an intense, psychological drama, scored by an unrestrained Hans Zimmer (he loves tense builds and overbearing crescendos). The track Come Silence even has a little noir feel going for it. It's also nothing I expected from an album called Elephant, but then this little Dronarivm excursion's been chock-full of surprises. What's one more?

Cyril Secq & Orla Wren - Branches

Dronarivm: 2016

Can't say I've ever taken in an album of classical guitar music. Have I even dabbled? The closest I can think of is Michael Brook, but his Cobalt Blue was more an ambient thing, his guitar work another layer of timbre (especially that sweet 'Infinite Guitar' layer!). I must have a couple stray examples of the stuff lurking in this pile of music o' mine, yet the fact I can't instantly recall any doesn't bode well for its prospects. Like, is Jam & Spoon's Hispanos In Space really the best I can think of?

And yeah, all those prog-rock dudes for sure lay out some complicated, classically inspired segments in their works. They're still doing it within the confines of prog-rock though, with fellow band members contributing to the overall songcraft. No, I'm talking solo, acoustic, non-folksy, improvisational technical works. With such greats as... um, okay, I don't know anyone in this field. Even bringing up Wiki-Lists draws a complete blank on yours truly. Julian Bream? Xuefei Yang? Craig Ogden? John Williams? (no, not that John Williams) Yeah, I know shit all here. But hey, even doing this cursory research into the subject has jacked a solid info-dump into my brainpan, so there's that.

Which finally brings us to Branches from Cyril Secq and Orla Wren. The former formed the experimental French folk group Astrïd, while the latter often pairs up with acoustic string musicians to make clicky fuzzy abstract ambient folk-pop. I'm assuming the two were at least aware of each others work, as somewhere along the way, Orla roped Cyril into providing guitar work for his 2013 album Book Of The Folded Forest. Mind, several musicians contributed to that one, as is often the case with many Orla Wren albums, but the creative synergy must have held stronger between the two, going into a collaborative project together. Cyril will provide the strings, and Orla will provide the treatments.

No, really, that's about all there is to Branches. Mr. Secq's finger plucking is spacious and unfussy, the very definition of music as like a meandering stream of conscious flow. Or exploring the branching paths on the limb of a tree, as it were. Of the eight tracks, Troisième Branche uses violin strokes rather than acoustic strumming, while Sixième Branche and Huitième Branche mixes the two together. Regarding the types of guitar Cyril uses, 'fraid I can't help you there. As said, I'm woefully under-educated in the intricacies of classical acoustic music. It does all sound quite pleasant though.

As for Orla Wren, it seems as though he's taken a step back in this partnership, his minimalist sounds consisting of static burbles, clicking pops, sprinkling tonks, airy feedback, weird echoes, and the sort of random electronic noises you'd expect of musique concrete. You know, pretentious art! Heh, no, I'm ribbing - Branches doesn't come off nearly as stuffy. It is extremely avante garde though, clearly intended for intellectual sorts more interested in studying minutiae than a little easy-listening enjoyment.

King Midas Sound - Without You

Hyperdub: 2011

How odd is it that this Kevin Martin project immediately got a remix album, but none of his Bug material has. Even the critically lauded London Zoo only got a few token EP rubs, and that was undoubtedly his most successful album ever. King Midas Sound, on the other hand, passed by with less buzz, quite a few folks not even aware it was another project from The Bug. Still, I sense it gained something of a 'musician's musician' following, where the savviest of UK Bass ears couldn't help but zero in on King Midas Sound's developments. I doubt Martin, Roger Robinson, and Kiki Hitomi planned it as such, but when I see a crap-ton of obscure, esoteric artists 'reworking' tunes for Without You, it makes me wonder exactly who's the target audience here. Like, were so many acts anxious to lend their aesthetic to the King Midas sound that Hyperdub had no choice but to release a remix album like this?

Actually, Without You is something of a mish-mash of older stuff and new material. If you missed out on the King Midas Sound debut record Cool Out, fret not for you get the wonk-jazz of Flying Lotus' rub on Lost (eh, I'll pass) and Dabrye's weirdo synth-pop stab at One Ting as a hidden track (noice!). Both remixes on the Goodbye Girl single also show up, Without You kicking off with Kuedo's ker-lumpity bass-clump of G.G., plus Mala's tribal dubstep of Earth A Kill Ya. It ain't bad, but compare it to the bizarre place art-poppers Gang Gang Dance take the original moody number - I'm left speechless! The original was a fairly minimalist, menacing piece of spoken word dub music, whereas Gang Gang turn it into something you might expect from an Orb and Youth collaboration: all chipper, flighty, and filled with silly sounds. And yet Roger's words remain just as poignant in this setting as the other. How'd Gang Gang do d'at?

All the new songs are given 'revoice' credits, including the titular cut with a D-Bridge rub that's almost ambient dub. Kiki gets to showcase a little Japanese knowledge with Tears, Cooly G brings some R&B sultriness to the fray in Spin Me Around, and Joel Ford does his own croon in Say Somethin'. Not to let all these urban voices dominate, Green Gartside of the indie band Scritti Politti shows up in Come And Behold. It's... an odd contrast to the rest of Without You's thick haze of grimy dub ol' Kevin drenches his productions in.

In case that's not enough, other remixes go for weird abstraction (Robert Aiki; Ras G & Afrikan Space Program; ooh Deep Chord!), or familiar Hyperdub future garage (hey Kode 9; yo' Hype Williams). In all, Without You is a warped trip through the disparate muses of various musicians, the only thing holding it together being Kevin Martin's faith in letting all those invited stretch wherever they want. Well no wonder so many wanted in on this 'remix' album!

The Bug vs Earth - Concrete Desert

Ninja Tune: 2017

First Kevin Martin made shockwaves as The Bug with London Zoo. Then he retreated from the alias to focus on a new project with Roger Robinson as King Midas Sound. That did awesome-sauce as well, and it looked as though he'd find a way to flit between the two projects, dedicating his Bug works to the dancehall and grime side of his muse, while working out the dubby, droned-out soul portion of his brain with King Midas Sound. He even got started on a running series with the latter (Edition), inviting like-minded artists in for a little collaborative work. A couple years pass, and it looks about time for either another Bug effort or a second Edition. Figures Mr. Martin opted for a little of both in Concrete Desert, giving us a Bug album that also serves as a collaboration with a prominent drone musician.

Said drone musician is Dylan Carlson, he of the drone metal band Earth and member of the Rasputin Look-Alike Club. Seems they're credited as kicking off that whole scene within the metal pantheon, getting their start sometime in the early '90s. Hey, Kevin Martin was also doing rock music of a sort back then, though more of a post-punk, noise thing that led him to exploring all things dubby later that decade. They have different approaches to their chosen craft, but the endgame seems the same: finding the musical nuances in the empty spaces between notes and sounds.

And Concrete Desert definitely does that. Something of an ode to outer Los Angeles as viewed through a David Lynch lens, there's plenty 'nuff drone tones to go around. In fact, the longest cuts on here go entirely beatless, American Dream and the closing titular track both breaching the ten-minute mark as Misters Martin and Carlson feast off of each others feedback fuzz, sustained guitar timbre, and heavy dub production. These could fit snugly in the dark ambient camps in how bleak and dispiriting they come across. Even the ambient opener City Of Fallen Angels, while a tad more melodic and calm, still comes off suffocating, as though choking on desolate urban heat.

That's all well and good, but folks coming into a Bug album expect some crunchy, bass-heavy beats too. For sure he delivers, though even these come off sparse, more in service of Dylan's evolving drone. Gasoline has a strident march that Dylan's guitar rides on, Snakes & Rats assaults you like a sonic cannon, Don't Walk These Streets quickens the marching pace as all manner of tonal wickedness lurks in the shadowed alleys, and Broke... kinda' reminds me of a NIN interlude.

Nate Patrin of Pitchfork calls Concrete Desert “neo-neo-noir music”, to which I say, “fuck off, Pitchfork, and your retarded hyper-hyphenated genres.” They are right in saying that it “draws you into its discomfort” though. These are far from inviting tones to hear, but Bug and Earth craft such a seductive, sonic dance, you can't help but wander these desolate streets regardless.

Tangerine Dream - Alpha Centauri

Ohr/Esoteric Reactive: 1971/2011

Any chronicler of Tangerine Dream claims every album of theirs is an Important Stepping Stone in the band's development throughout the '70s, how each LP led to another new wrinkle in their sonic tapestry. And that remains true for their sophomore effort Alpha Centauri, though consensus states this one isn't as important as the others that came later. I don't agree with that entirely - at least on a conceptual level it's a significant change of direction from their debut Electronic Meditation. Even by title alone, you can tell this one's aiming for sending you on a journey somewhere specific, no matter how abstract and psychedelic the music gets. It just so happens space was the place everyone thought was the new hotness at the time, moon landings and Stanley Kubrick movies inspiring folks with their own takes on cosmic exploration. Plus, you can totally get away with sounding all weird and shit, because does anyone know what music at Alpha Centauri actually sounds like? Heck, we didn't even know what sounds Saturn could make yet! Freeform imagination songcraft abounds!

First up, because this is way-early Tangerine Dream, don't come into this album expecting anything like their mid-'70s genre-defining Berlin-School synth-wizardry sound. Nay, this is the band still in their psychedelic rock phase, though definitely pushing the boundaries of what could still be technically classified as 'rock music' within this nascent kraut offshoot. Opener Sunrise In The Third System serves as an intro of sorts, only four-and-a-half minutes long while building upon organ operatics and spaced-out guitar sounds. If this doesn't sound like you're out on the fringes of an extra-terrestrial planet, then you don't know your kosmische.

That one's fairly straight-forward as songs go on this album though. Second track Fly And Collision Of Comas Sola settles for nothing less than musique concrete abstraction for a good two minutes of its start, all pinging synth zaps and shimmering laser-lights; it's like you're riding the comet itself! Oh yeah, Comas Sola refers to a comet passing near Jupiter at the time, so this piece wants to recreate a journey on said comet, and potential collision with the big ball of temperamental hydrogen. I'd say they pull it off, much of the track a meandering, dithering piece of synth strings, organs, and almost inaudible guitar strums. Two-thirds deep, drums emerge, flutes be a tootin', and the track erupts in a cacophonous, psychedelic freak-out. If you feel that's too rocky for your Tangerine Dream music, check out the 2011 bonus track Ultima Thule Part One, where the band does a full rock-out as any psych-band could.

Still, the titular cut is the main attraction, running twenty-two minutes long. Yeah, it's one of those pieces, where the band seems to be fluffing about for an endless amount of time. Some weird synth noises here, an extended flute solo there, a little choir action and spoken German radio-chatter elsewhere, not much linking it all together. Methinks some refinement in their song-writing is still required.

Phonothek - Lost In Fog

Cryo Chamber: 2016

Yes, I'm still astounded that Cryo Chamber keeps unearthing unique artists that must satisfy whatever micro-niche taste one might have. How does that selection process go, though? I mean, a dark ambient label that’s gained an impeccable reputation in such a short time must get sent demos constantly now, budding artists looking to make their mark with Simon Heath’s blessing. I can imagine it almost turning into American Idol:

Heath: “What sort of dark ambient do you make?”
Contestant 1: “I make cold, wintery music, like you’re traversing the Arctic.”
Heath: “Sorry, already got one of those. Next.”
Contestant 1: “No, wait, I meant ANT-arctic!”
Contestant 2: “Haha, too late. So yo’, check it, Sabled Sun, m’man! I’m all about that bleak, future-shock dystopia sound too.”
Heath: “Why would I add another artist that makes music like myself?”
Contestant 2: “’Cause – and this’ll blow your mind – it’s from the perspective of the Star Wars universe, man!”
Heath: “That… might be too specific for what we do here. Wait, aren’t you MC Chris?”
Contestant 2: “Uh, …no?”
Heath: *sigh* “And you, sir, what unique angle might you bring to Cryo Chamber?”
Contestant 3: “I play a trumpet.”
Heath: “Ooh, do tell!”

I wouldn’t go so far as to say the trumpet is Phonothek’s defining characteristic, but it’s certainly the first time I’ve heard it so prominently used in a dark ambient project. From what I gather, there’s a whole sub-set of ‘industrial jazz’ or ‘doom jazz’ out there, which doesn’t surprise me in the least. Jazz musicians gotta’ try every form of genre fusion they can.

Phonothek is primarily the brainchild of George from Georgia (oddly, I can’t find a last name for him), with a musical assist from his wife Nina. He has an orchestral background, and while the trumpet is his main sonic weapon of choice, he doesn’t rely on it, only half the tracks on this debut album of Lost In Fog making significant use of it. For the most part, Phonothek does the modern classical thing with ample instrumentation and digital manipulations, but in a loose, freeform, jazzy sort of way. This makes it quite the fun headphone album (those ping-pong sounds!), though a 5.1 system should do you fine in a pinch.

There doesn’t seem to be any particular theme with Lost In Fog other than weird, abstract music making for its own sake. When the trumpet playing does lead (Heavy Thoughts, Old Swings, Lost In Fog), it creates a melancholic mood, almost right out of a noir film. Some tracks use discordant strings or sampled voices to create unease (Last Train), sometimes it’s traditional piano (Dancing With The Ghosts), others chopping up synth pad and droning passages such that they seemingly play out of sync, yet flow together regardless (Something Happened). Meanwhile, Clown Is Dead goes from creepy to forlorn to positively strident with its ethereal marching. Yes, Phonothek has made ‘ethereal marching’ a thing, though wasn’t that Dead Can Dance’s thing too?

Porya Hatami - Land

Somehow Recordings/Inner Ocean Records: 2012/2013

This is the other CD I picked up from Inner Ocean Records’ Bandcamp, completing my collection of Inner Ocean Records CDs as available through the label’s Bandcamp. And if I do some serious hunting and digging, I could get all the CDs the Calgary print released, including Jarrod Sterling’s Distance Is Relative, Void Of Sound’s Black_White, and a remix album of this particular disc too. There might be more, but Lord Discogs doesn’t suggest any, so I’ll take it that’s all Inner Ocean made before transitioning to tape production and the occasional vinyl. I wonder what the cost-ratio with tapes is like. I’ll assume it’s cheaper than CDs, but seeing as how the discs are already pretty darn cheap, it can’t be by much. Is there more of a profit margin on tapes now that they have much greater hipster cred’ than in decades past, folks willing to pay more than the ‘free handout’ price of before? Land of confusion indeed.

Speaking of land, here is Porya Hatami’s debut album, Land. This version on Inner Ocean is actually a reissue, the first coming out a year prior on Somehow Recordings, yet another ambient micro-label that released well over one-hundred items between 2010 and 2013, all on CD. Holy cow! Most of their material is totally new to my eyes, though a couple familiar names do crop up, among them Lee Norris’ Nacht Plank guise. Say, is that where he and Mr. Hatami first crossed paths?

Porya’s style of ambient is mostly defined by his manipulation of field recordings coupled with a delicate touch of glitch-static, soft pads, gentle pianos, twee chimes, and other manner of minimalist melodica. He even released an album called The Garden, with track titles naming off the tiny animal fauna one might find there. Land is obviously larger in scope, but even here ol’ Porya takes a moment to gaze at the very small, with closing track Bug. The melody used in this one sounds as though it could have been sampled from a toy box, including some of the creaking wood one might hear when opening it. Or that could just be recordings played in reverse. It’s all rather abstract, Mr. Hatami aiming for mood over imagery, though I do often feel like I’m chilling by a river or in a field while this plays.

Eight tracks of around six to seven minutes feature in Land, each touching upon a different idea while following a similar structure. Some go super cutesy and tender (Autumn, Sea, Snow), others more droning and abstract (Rain, Storm), and sometime they’ll mesh the two approaches (River, Winter). It all does sound rather similar though, the sort of minimal ambient that navel gazes into its micro-glitch effects to such a degree that it seldom focuses on anything of substance for long, beyond the general tone maintained. Land is a nifty little album for those who appreciate ambient’s form over its function, but does get lost in the background rather easily too.

S.E.T.I. - The Guide Lockstars Of Astro Myrmex

...txt: 2016

Now doesn’t this look all ultra egg-headed in concept and design. Guide Lockstars? Astro Myrmex?? S.E.T.I.??? Right, that last one’s been a staple of electronic music for ages, musicians inspired by deep space frequencies traversing the endless void in meager hopes of finding kindred intelligence. Or something better, far superior to our primitive means, that’d be pretty dope too, but we’ll take whatever the cosmos sends our way. Beggers can’t be choosers.

Honestly, I picked this up because, hey, new S.E.T.I. – gotta’ check that out, yo’! Never mind I initially wasn’t sure which S.E.T.I. I was dealing with. Like, it seemed odd that the dark, abstract ambient project of Andrew Lagowski would end up on …txt, especially since his last few releases came out on industrial-leaning print Power & Steel. That other Seti project then, that consisted of Savvas Ysatis and Taylor Deupree, they’re more up the alley of Lee Norris’ label. Then again, they haven’t been heard from since the ‘90s, so odds of this being the same group were remote. Could it be a whole new S.E.T.I.? Lord Discogs surprisingly lists few acts with such aliases, so a young cheeky producer could take it on too.

But nay, turns out it was Mr. Lagowski all along, finding a home with …txt as he takes his project into the realms of narrative concept. The Guide Lockstars of Astro Myrmex is the second of what appears to be an ongoing tale of sorts, started with The Data Logs Of Astro Myrmex, released the year prior. Little information is given on what ‘Astro Myrmex’ is, beyond something that’s travelling the cosmos. A ship captain? Interstellar cruiser? Robotic probe? Evolved light being? Something definitely advanced compared to our current technology, what with Data Logs’ liner notes mentioning ol’ Astro exploring wormholes. Lockstars offers a morsel of additional information, explaining that Myrmex’s journey was initiated by the Nibiru Cataclysm. Ah, that event, as predicted by the cover art of Public Enemy’s Fear Of A Black Planet.

The music within, such as it is, does offer the sort of space ambient you’d expect of such a hard sci-fi story. Opener Instrument Calibration spends a chunk of its early portion with distant transistor pings and other sounds you’d figure robots communicating with radio antennae would emit, accompanied by low thrums that all dark space ambient must include. This isn’t a dark piece though, spacey pads joining the effects, nicely selling a cosmic grandeur vibe.

Guide Lockstars generally alternates in tone throughout, with S.E.T.I. exploring different forms of sci-fi sounds and abstract music. Mirach, LoS Jitter Summary, Adhil, and especially Black Engines are quite dark and droning, giving me pause whether I’d accidentally thrown on a Cryo Chamber CD instead. The longer tracks of Gravity Stupor and Almach are more bleepy and benign, though still feeling isolated between the stars. Still, it’s nice hearing a hard sci-fi, space ambient album that includes both ends of the vibe spectrum. (not as famous as the electromagnetic spectrum)

Flying Lotus - Until The Quiet Comes

Warp Records: 2012

Probably not the best album to get one’s ears wet with Flying Lotus, this. Even in his modest outings, the dude takes a rather challenging approach to his beat work and song craft, finding confounding ways of manipulating conventional funk, hip-hop, soul, and the jazz that fuses them together (say what?). It’s definitely a style that will get you noticed by all the talking-head rags out there, forever eager in discovering and hyping a unique approach to familiar music, and FlyLo fast became a critical darling in the mid-‘00s. By second LP, he was signed to Warp Records, and as the praise steadily increased, so did Mr. Ellison’s desire to challenge himself. Thus we arrive at his fourth album, Until The Quiet Comes, a point when he has nothing left to prove to anyone but his own musical ambition. Oh yeah, we’re getting into Serious Artist territory with this one.

Of course, the notion of Flying Lotus getting a pile of Real Musicians in the studio with him first germinated with his previous album, Cosmogramma. That was more a feeling-out process though, taking the abstract-hop and broken funk that defined his earlier work and seeing if it could work in a traditional band setting (well, as traditional as jazz-fusion gets). Those results must have satisfied FlyLo, as he takes things even further here, trying out more genre-fusion, with more musicians in the studio, and more tracks filling out the album! Okay, only one more track, but still, MOAR!

Names returning for this session include Flying Lotus mainstays bassist Thundercat, harpist Rebekah Raff, stringster Miguel Atwood-Ferguson, vocalist Laura Darlington, and Brit-warbler Thom Yorke. Coming in for the Quiet Comes party are keyboardist Austin Peralta, other-keyboardist Brandon Coleman, drummer Jean Coy, and soul-Goddess Eryakah Badu. Geez, how does one top that in a follow-up - a hot contemporary rapper, or an actual jazz legend on the keyboards? (yep, and FlyLo done did it in You’re Dead!).

And as for the music on Until The Quiet Comes …look, we all know this is the sort of stuff musicians make just to annoy folks who like dancing about architecture [citation needed]. I can tell you that Tiny Tortures has a minimalist, blippy thing going on, or that The Nightcaller stomps out the spaced-out P-funk vibes, or that Phantasm oozes and creeps about in dreamy psychedelic-pop, but how helpful are such descriptors in a record such as this? Tracks come and go at such an erratic, rapid pace; few have much chance of sinking in before you’re trying to peel the musical layers of the next tune. Some pieces thematically meld together so well, you won’t even notice a clutch of tracks have played past, whereas others shift tones so suddenly it’ll give your cochlea whiplash.

I do come back to Until The Quiet Comes every so often, just to hear if I can pick out any additional nuance that slipped by before. Should casual music listening be such like homework, though?