Alphaxone & Xerxes The Dark - Aftermath

Cryo Chamber: 2018

Been a while since I last indulged in the Cryo Chamber catalogue, what with me exploring other dark ambient labels for a spell. Back to the familiar, trusty ol' print of cinematic drone I must go though (yo'), with another CD bundle splurge I can never resist (can't have enough 'cryo chamber' beer can sleeves!). Still a lot of familiar names making the rounds here, but quite few new faces too. Mount Shrine, Ruptured World, Dahlia's Tear, Ager Sonus, In Quantum. Y'know, cheerful aliases! I've also noticed Cryo Chamber's cover art has grown a bit more... colourful? Okay, maybe that's too strong a word, everything still retaining that distinct, muted saturation. Still, I see whites and reds and blues and various scales of grey too. Why, In Quantum's Memory 417 could almost be synthwave cover! A very dark, depressing collection of synthwave, but that seven-segment display for the album's font screams '80s (thanks, The Police's Ghost In The Machine).

There's nothing like settling on the familiar though, and what better way to get reacquainted than with an old standby of Cryo Chamber, Alphaxone. When last I covered him, Mr. Saleh had been pairing up with the dark ambient power couple of Dronny Darko and ProtoU for a pair of albums that were conceptually quite different from each other. Naturally, I gravitated more towards the spacier of the two offerings, and so it goes again in his latest collaboration, this time with fellow Iranian Xerxes The Dark. That... doesn't strike me as the most creative of aliases Morego Dimmer could have come up with. Like, why not Xerxes The تاریک? In any event, he's floated about various dark ambient labels since the mid-'00s, but the gravitational pull of Cryo Chamber drew him within their fold for a collaborative album or three, first appearing on one of the Tomb Of... compilations.

I've taken in plenty of cosmic drone, but very little cosmic horror. The existential dread of utter nothingness is enough to send cold shivers down my neck, no need of madness-inducing unrealities mixing in. Still, Alphaxone's very good at crafting captivating soundscapes fitting of altered dimensions, so I'm in safe(?) hands with him leading the way into this domain. I'm not so sure about Xerxes though, unfamiliar with his brand of drone as I am. Can I pick out distinct attributes in Aftermath from Alphaxone's aesthetic?

Can't say I did. This still feels like an Alphaxone album, though perhaps more structured in narrative than some of his other works. As with the best of Cryo Chamber, each track serves as another chapter in whatever tale the artists look to tell, in this case, exploration of the interplanetary unknown, and what wonders or horrors may come from there. There are points where an almost benign tone settles in (ooh, shimmery piano to close out!), but yeah, this is a very minimalist excursion into cinematic dronescapes. Not that I'd want to hear inhuman field recordings in something like Aftermath.

Cosmic Replicant - After A Long Rain

self released: 2018

A pure ambient album with modern classical touches? Sure, why not. Pavel's done nearly everything else with his Cosmic Replicant project that the psy scene can offer, so it's only natural he'd stretch out into this field. Plenty of his full-lengths have a dronescape track or three, so it's not unexplored territory either. And if other Altar Records alum can release such records (AstroPilot; Chronos; others, probably), so can this one. Perhaps a bit of a shame he had to do it independently, but then Mr. Shirsin hasn't been part of the Altar family for nearly a half-decade now- oh, wait, he did release an ambient EP with them just this year. Man, it's hard keeping tabs on a discography when the artist's Bandcamp isn't always the primary output. There's only so many email lists I want to be part of.

Surprisingly, especially given his alias, this isn't a cosmic ambient album as so many of his peers typically go. Rather, Pavel's focused his muse in a grounded reality, the sort of feelings one may experience after a brisk downpour of autumn rainfall. Not the cooling sun-showers of summer, nor the icy drip of wintry sleet, but that in-between perspiration that still carries some warmth from oceanic fronts. Rain that nourishes the fungi blooms feasting upon decaying leaf piles. So many fungi blooms about Vancouver right now. Just... so many. Which is weird, considering we've had a remarkable run of cold, sunny weather as of late, right when we should be in perpetual drizzle season. May have to start laying out the road salt earlier than usual.

The opening track is called Silence On The Air, and it's almost dark ambient in how moody and suffocating its drone feels. A gentle melody echoing through the atmosphere does keep it just on this side of the realms of light (or however you want to demarcate ambient from dark ambient). Thoughts That Carried Away carries on in similar vein, a sombre dronescape with delicate crystalline tones piercing the murk. It's not all dour downpour though, the mood of subsequent tracks slowly but surely turning more tranquil and refreshing – a piano as your primary melody helps. Why, Cloudy Friday Day is downright chipper, with a jaunty, echoing electric guitar and actual bassline. I can easily imagine this playing to a scene of kids splashing in post-rain puddles.

I wouldn't call myself a critic if I couldn't find something to be nitpicky about though, and there is a quibble. Music and albums centred around the concept of rainfall are typically quite intimate affairs, as rainfall itself forces us to turn withdrawn and huddled from the elements abroad. For as lovely the pieces Cosmic Replicant has crafted here, however, they're rather grandiose. Gentle and calming, yes, but they make me feel like I'm watching the water cycle in action on an IMAX screen, not trickling through the trees outside my window-pane. Yeah, the quibbliest of quibbles, that.

The Winterhouse - Winter Gardens

dataObscura: 2012

I assume my fascination with winter's clime' stems from the fact I live in a region that doesn't experience winter in the 'traditional' sense. Sure, we get snow once or thrice a season, but to be perpetually blanketed in a white layer of quieting frozen water is incredibly rare. Thus, when constantly bombarded with romantic imagery of such seasonal situations, it makes one fonder for that which we need not deal with. Maybe I need to go snow-shoeing around the local ski hills to get it out of my system.

When ambient music tackles wintery aesthetics, it's often as bleak and desolate drone. Sometimes we'll get shimmery, crystalline moments, but as brief respites of glistening beauty among the suffocating, icy gloom. It's uncommon finding albums that explore frigid environments as someplace mysterious and magical; a 'wonderland', if you may. Or there's a huge sub-sub genre-market for it out there, and I'm wandering the wrong wastelands. The artists are probably all Japanese too.

Anyhow, this is a roundabout way of me justifying my purchase of Winter Gardens from The Winterhouse. Something evocative about that cover art, y'know, luring me in into a tranquil, hibernating forest, exploring nooks and crannies sheltering small, sleeping mammals. As I say, perfect settings to indulge a little snow-shoeing, but a suitable soundtrack for such an endeavor?

The Winterhouse is a collaborative project from Anthony Kerby and Robert Davies. The former I've talked up plenty now, since diving into dataObscura meant diving into a lot of his musical output. Mr. Davies I haven't touched upon yet, though his story isn't much different from Mr. Kerby's: some two dozen albums, mostly all released on dataObscura as well, with Winterhouse being his lone outside project. So, does that make him the Solar Fields to Kerby's Aes Dana, with Winterhouse being dataObscura's H.U.V.A. Project? Doubtful, but it's a fun notion nonetheless.

While I wasn't expecting some cheery, chipper, New Age outing with Winter Gardens, I was expecting a little less of the pure drone that I've heard from dataObscura thus far. 'Tis not to be, this one just as layered and minimalist as most of the music I've heard from Kerby and co'. Which isn't such a bad thing if I'm in the mood for moody pad work and sparse melodic movements. I dunno' tho', seeing so much stark white in the cover had me thinking Winter Gardens would be a bit... brighter. Silly me, overlooking the greyscale forest from the shadowy trees.

Winter Hymn does provide a pleasant, tranquil opener, but the foreboding tones of dark ambient are quick to make their presence felt in follow-up The Depths Of Winter. The murky mood mostly permeates the rest of the album, with We Walk Through Glass offering some of those shimmering, glistening sounds I alluded to albums of this nature so often containing. Feel Winter Gardens could have used more moments like that. Isn't a garden supposed to highlight the beauty of nature, not the suppression of it?

Steve Brand - Upwelling: Emergence

Databloem: 2018

Steve Brand seemed familiar to me, but Discoggian evidence shows that couldn't possibly be the case. Though he's released some forty album's worth of music in the past fifteen years, a high percentage of it has been through his own, independent labels (Relaxed Machinery, Pioneer Light Music). And despite a discography as big as his, he hasn't done much for the compilation market either. Yet I still associate his name with ambient artists of old, which makes sense given his style of ambient is in the ancient, traditional form of the genre. I must have noticed his works on labels like Hypnos and AtmosWorks, where old-schoolers like Vidna Obmana, Robert Rich, and Vir Unis have released material. Oh, Ishq too, whom Steve Brand collaborated with on the double-LP Spiritual Science / The Voice From Home. Huh, sometimes the connections are as simple as that.

Though that pairing happened a decade ago, it helped give him a small in with ...txt, where Brand got to release one of his Near Series CDs on. And as seems to be the case now, when a producer releases something on a Lee Norris print, they get invited over to the Databloem family as well. Or sometimes it's the other way around. Lots of cross-pollination between the two camps, is what I'm saying, more than I ever thought possible. Throw in Aes Dana providing another mixdown for a Databloem joint, and I'm beginning to wonder if I should be on the look-out for some massive, multi-franchise crossover event within the world of ambient and chill music. That isn't a tribute to Pete Namlook.

Upwelling: Emergence is a sequel of sorts, the first Upwelling coming out way back in 2011 as an odd 'n' sods collection of material. So too it goes with this one, various unused items and inspirational flights of fancy of the past decade rounded up into a compilation. A strange method of making a debut on a new label, though not unprecedented. Heck, I think I've reviewed such an item before (Aythar's Dream Of Stars). It's a safe way to test the waters with a broader audience, seeing if one's stylee meshes with their tastes before dropping an LP of new, original content on their ears. As if the ambient collective is some stuffy scene of opinionated gate-keepers.

As I'm not about to dive deeply into Brand's discography right now (so many albums...), all I can tell you regarding this particular release is what I mentioned above. Steve's 'brand' (*slap*) of ambient mostly entails lengthy, overlaying synth drones and gentle field recordings, abstract art music as crafted right from the '80s. It's all very serene and pleasant and calming and-

G'ah! What's with those flutes in The Krater Of Earth? So shrill and piercing following half a CD's worth of soothing tones and timbre. The track settles into a standard pad-drone piece, but geez, hearing those sure was a slap in the face. Knocked me out of my peaceful doze, it did.

Le Moors - Tendrils

Unknown Tone Records: 2016

Finally, an obscure ambient act I'm coming across for the first time where I'm not drawing an utter blank. Not to say I'm an expert on Le Moors. Really, hardly anyone could be, the duo having released just this one album, plus a single-track EP a few years prior. One of the players involved though, I've crossed paths with him before, if only barely. One Wil Bolton contributed to the Lee Norris conglomerate project The Angling Loser, and has thus also worked specifically with Lee as Orphic Signals and The Ashes Of Piemonte. He's also released a solo album on ...txt. Dronarivm too, not to mention most recently on Databloem, because everyone is releasing music on Databloem these days. Seriously, what is it with that label as of late?

Really, Bolton's been quite the busy-body over the past decade, with nearly twenty albums to his name, and several more collaborative works along the way. Less so is the other half of Le Moors, Jeff Stonehouse, though not by a great deal. His primary project was Listening Mirror with Kate Tustain – even releasing an album on Dronarivm during its time – but seems to have settled into more of a producer-collaborative role now, making use of sound manipulations and the like. Oh, and Lord Discogs ties him to '90s psy-trance act Spiralhead, but I've a hard time believing that's the same dude. You're telling me Jeff made a few goa records way back, disappeared for over a decade, then re-emerged making ambient-drone? Ah, well, I suppose there's been odder musical tracks. Tijs Verwest started out with gabber, after all.

The concept behind Tendrils is straight-forward enough: calming, soothing ambient layers with reverb tones stretched out to the infinite recesses of your listening space. Ooh, what I wouldn't give to hear some of this in a big open field, but my Sennheiser HD650s suffice in a pinch. Most of these sounds are initiated by guitars strings lazily plucking an improvised ditty, with the aforementioned sound manipulations contorting them into something quite relaxing and tranquil. If I may get my old-school name-drops on, it most reminds me of Vangelis' sublime composition of pre-ambient dronescaping, Creation Du Monde. I can imagine a piece like Precarious Brilliance or The Play Of Angels working just as well with imagery of cosmic splendour with Carl Sagan narrating overtop.

And that's about all there is to say about Tendrils. It's only seven tracks long, most averaging around the six-to-seven minute mark, which is a tad on the short side where this sort of music is concerned. Then again, at least they don't unnecessarily dawdle on their effects either. There isn't much variety in sounds though, maybe Cutlasses And Carbines going more sparse and minimal with its elongated guitar tones compared to the rest of the album. Then there's the final titular track, with its nine minutes of isolated piano and atonal drone. A surprisingly ominous closing, given how benign the rest of Tendrils was.

Galati - Silence [As A Din]

Databloem: 2018

I was already curious in checking out more items from Galati after Gletscher, though not in a real hurry to do so either – almost glacial, in my efforts (eh? eh...?). Plus, having the bulk of his music released by that label which has disappeared into the internet ether made digging back into ol' Roberto's discography a trickier endeavour than before. Fortunately, after a bit of downtime, he seems to have found a new home with the label that everyone seems to have found a new home with; or provide some additional content for. Seriously, what is it about Databloem that has everyone in the modern ambient techno/dub/chill scene wandering within their walls? Just because they have a proven, classy track record that's endured for well over a decade now doesn't mean one has to release with them. Sure must feel nice though, being part of a print that won't end up dicking you around.

Making his debut with Databloem is Galati's sixth album, Silence [As A Din], and even without the recollection of his earlier works, you just know I'd have picked this up regardless. I admit, I admit, certain types of cover art are pure catnip to my eyes, and placid ice flows in a blue-scale colour is about as catnippy as these things can get. Maybe add a derelict boat on one of those icebergs. A Saturn in the sky. Yeah, that's the stuff...

For those of us just joining in on the Galati train, Roberto's approach to the art of ambient drone typically involves post-rock elements such as guitar strums and amp feedback. The result on Gletscher was that of a rather epic wall-of-sound, and you'd think for an album titled Silence, he'd scale things back some. Yes, some, in that I can pick out individual elements with greater ease, but it's no less overbearing. The opener Pt. 1 doesn't waste time in bringing the coalescing sounds to the fore, though they do retreat some such that things like rhythm and melody have breathing room. At twenty minutes long, Pt. 1 moves through many passages itself, at times almost pausing to catch its breath before erupting in another wall-of-sound excursion. If I didn't know it was indexed as a singular piece, I'd have thought it was around four or five different tracks.

Pt. 3 goes even longer at twenty-five, and has something of a modern classical feel to it with prominent harp and vocal tones. Not that they weren't apparent in Pt. 1, I can just hear them better in this composition. There's honestly quite a bit going on in Pt. 3, more than I can detail in the remaining word count I have.

So let me wrap up by mentioning Pt. 2 and Pt. 4 are comparatively shorter pure drone pieces, almost inching towards dark ambient's ethereal domain, placing Silence [As A Din] among the moodiest albums I've heard from Databloem yet. Can't fault the label for dipping their fingers into a bit of everything.

Lingua Lustra - Portal

Carpe Sonum Records: 2018

It's been two years since I took in a Lingua Lustra album, and it's not due to disinterest. In fact, I remain quite intrigued in his works, but he has so much out there, on so many different labels, it'd require some serious sleuthing on my part. Also, I've taken in enough of his works to realize some releases won't be as captivating as others. Noodly ambient is fine and all on occasion, but I remain utterly sated on the stuff based off my usual label explorations, thank you very much. If I'm gonna' start focusing on a specific artist's output, especially one as prolific as Albert Borkent, I'd like the creme of the crop right from the top. The rest can wait for a time when there's a week's worth of hours available for a deep Bandcamp spelunking.

Still, without sampling every item in an artist's catalogue, how does one find their best material? You go to the labels, my friends! Say what you will about streaming reducing the need for labels, but they still serve as useful curators, especially for a genre as impossibly massive as ambient. Even as I continuously poke and prod into this vast domain for new labels, there's something to be said for trusty ol' faithfuls, including Carpe Sonum Records. Given he stylistically meshes with much of this print's output, I'm surprised it took so long for Lingua Lustra to find himself there. I suppose there was no rush, what with his own Spiritech handling much of his music for a while (and, erm, the unmentionable label too).

What's most interesting about Lingua Lustra's first official album on Carpe Sonum is that it's almost a compilation. Despite the 2018 release, the tracks on Portal were made between 2013 and 2015, some of which even saw release elsewhere. Two had appeared on Carpe Sonum compilations, and another two found their way on Plusquam Chillout. That... may not be as impressive, Plusquam responsible for an obscene amount of Ambient [Theme] digital compilations in the year 2014, flooding the streaming market with their options. Gander at a sampling of their 'S' titles: Ambient Scape, Ambient Sessions, Ambient Shores, Ambient Sonics, Ambient Souls, Ambient Sounds, Ambient Stereo, Ambient Statros. Yeesh.

Back to Portal, Carpe Sonum sifted through Mr. Borkent's catalogue in selecting tracks for this release, including unreleased items. Whoa, you mean the lush, soul-melting ambience of The Gate Of Dawn sat in the Lingua Lustra archives sight-unheard for a half-decade? Even in his relentless digital-only release rate, Albert never saw fit to give this lovely composition the light of day? Oh, I'm sure he's got dozens of such releases, material sat on for whatever reason. The seven tracks on here are all quite lovely and spacey and dreamy and droney, though never exceeding the twelve-minute mark as some Lingua Lustra pieces have done in the past. If this album was meant to serve as a 'portal' in to his music (eh? Eh...?), job well done, Carpe Sonum.

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'!

Specta Ciera + The Circular Ruins - Mnemosyne

dataObscura: 2016

Welp, the happy-funtime house music was a nice detour, but we must return to the regularly scheduled ambient dronescapes I clearly over-indulged in last year. Like, I thought I spread things out a bit from the Databloems and the dataObscuras, what with a Motech dive and sporadic other items along the way (Stacey Pullen! Pet Shop Boys! Sixtoo?). Not enough, turns out, with many more of these sorts of albums to come before I reach the end of the current backlog. Ah well, at least there isn't a huge pile of Cryo Chamber in here too, as in backlogs of before. Nay, that's for the next round of backlog reviews! Mwa ha-ha-ha!

At least this time, I'm not going in so blind. I've already touched upon The Circular Ruins; aka: Nunc Stans; aka: Anthony Kerby; aka: the dude that runs this dataObscura house. Specta Ciera is new though ...or is he? Apparently I have covered him as well, though under his real name of Devin Underwood. If that doesn't quite ring a bell, might I 'send' you to 'the past' Carpe Sonum Records in my archives? Eh? Eh...? Wow, tough crowd. I'm really dealing with the data-obscure with these artists, aren't I?

Anyhow, Specta Ciera has generally been Mr. Underwood's primary alias, and after releasing around half-dozen albums on his own, started feeling the collaborative itch with guys like Benjamin Dauer and The Circular Ruins. Seems an Arbee has become Devin's latest music beau, including releases on dataObscura and Carpe Sonum Records together. Damn, if they manage something out on one of Lee Norris' labels, they'll be, like, a pleasant ambient drone power couple! This scene could use more juicy gossip like that (and none of the 'label manager meltdowns' ...okay, maybe a little of that too, for the LOLs).

Mnemosyne opens with Preparations For Sleep. Ah, dang'it. Whenever I sit back to take in an album such as this, I often have great difficulty staying awake for the duration. That's not a bad thing, really, calm music easing you into a state of mental soothing doing its job at all. Letting me know that I likely won't have much of a chance against Mnemosyne though, that's just trolling me now.

All joking aside, the Specta Ruins (Circular Ciera?) pairing does make for an interesting contrast. Granted, I haven't listened to a tonne from these two, but enough to get a general idea of their styles, Kerby often exploring the minimalist spaces among field recordings and subtle drones, Underwood a little more musical in his layering of synth tones and pad timbre. There are some downright dreamy passages throughout Mnemosyne, where one can lose themselves in the distant melodies emanating from underneath burbling electronics and fuzzy drone. It takes a bit to really grab you, mind, but by album's end, I'm feelin' as chilled out as- oh geez! Why does final track Quandary have such a comparatively ominous tone to it? Harsh my mellow, man.

Anatolya - Mirror Messages

Unknown Tone Records: 2016

Oh, why couldn't have this been my first Unknown Tone Records album to review? Then I could have killed off the obligatory word salad of background info here instead of Twincities' CD. At least there, I had some additional artist information to dig deeper on if I so chose. This Anatolya though, he's a giant ol' Discoggian blank, Mirror Messages his lone entry, save a single track contributed to the Unknown Tone compilation Vol. IV. At least the liner notes tells me the artist behind Anatolya is Brian Phillips, and hails from the Florida region. Not much else beyond that though. The Bandcamp page does send me to a link of his other artistic endeavours, including paintings, video, and sculpturing. It all looks bleak and macabre and very dark ambient, which makes me wonder how he wound up on Unknown Tone in the first place? Are there other morose music makers on the label I'm not aware of? That album titled Stay Out Long Enough And The Night Becomes Your Home from Lost Trail seems rather dark and gothic.

Anatolya though, I've almost nothing to work with, beyond the music itself. And I'll be honest, when I heard the opening harsh drone of Before You Were Born, I thought I was in for one of those experiences. Where the playing of a full LP is more an endurance test of sensory overload than letting oneself be lost in the vibe the artist has crafted. It's certainly effective in setting a discordant tone, the sort of sound you'd expect from the opening credits of a mind-breaking art-house film. Did I really want to hear such a thing on this nice summer day though? Heck, even in the bleakest of winter?

Fortunately, things turn to the moodier side of dark drone after, with creepy sounds and disembodied voices floating about a murky timbre. And gosh, The Nomad Flute actually feels a tad welcoming, in a warbly melancholy sort of way. Elsewhere, John Fire Lame Deer shows Mr. Phillips has a lighter side to his muse, even if its chipper piano melody remains buried in sludgy synth. Punctum finds him getting his experimental side on (such stretched oscillations), while In The Window and Lotophagi do the crackly minimalist ambient thing that jives with much of what I've heard from Unknown Tone's catalogue – there had to be a connection somewhere! It was almost enough to lull me into a sense of calm that I almost forgot just how confrontational the opening track was, but closer Eukurai reminds me that Mirror Messages had its fingers in the dark ambient side of things for most of its runtime.

So an interesting little album from Anatolya... Anatolya... Why does that name seem so familiar? Let me check something. *click-clack clickity-clack-clack ...BASS!* Oh, Anatolia, as in the Anatolia Peninsula. Y'know, watching a bunch of King & Generals videos will get certain locations stuck in your head something fierce. Lot of history in that region, believe you me.

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.

SiJ - The Lost World

Reverse Alignment: 2015

See? See!? I knew there was SiJ in this endless backlog bundle (I've been at since March and I'm only in the 'L's, OMG!). It wasn't some flight of fanciful delusion that I somehow skipped out on the specific artist I raided Reverse Alignment for. Okay, no one doubted my proclamation of innocence in that Ajna review, because few would even care. I cared though, if for no other reason than to confirm my own fraying memories. I had to have scoured for SiJ, because I recall doing so. It couldn't be a figment of my imagination, could it? Like, one of those realistically mundane dreams you're so certain happened it becomes a permanent memory? The cruellest of such dreams I've had are the ones I've unearthed a trove of unreleased Calvin & Hobbes comics. Yes, it's been a recurrent one.

Thing about SiJ is one can be a tad flummoxed over where to start on his discography. Dude's nearly up to fifty releases this past decade, and while I'm sure a good deal of it is just drone experiments, there's bound to be plenty more that's not. Like, did you know he did a cover of Terra? As in, the theme music for Final Fantasy VI Terra? I sure didn't until I did a little poking around his Bandcamp page, and lo', there it was, his interpretation of one of the most lush compositions ever cranked out of the old SNES. Who'd have ever thought a guy appearing on Cryo Chamber would have a Nobuo Uematsu cover in his catalogue. Actually, come to think of it, that 'World Of Ruin' music would work quite nicely in a dark ambient context too.

Speaking of worlds, here is The Lost World. And yes, this is a specific tribute to the Conan Doyle novel, wherein a plateau within the Amazon jungle holds prehistoric creatures. Not to be confused with The Land That Time Forgot, the Edgar Rice Burroughs novel released almost concurrently about an Antarctica realm that holds prehistoric creatures. It was a popular sci-fi idea in the early 20th Century, usually featuring someone getting eaten by a Pleisiosaur, running from cavemen, and a volcano erupting. Heck, even Mickey Mouse had an adventure like that, which was weird considering the cavemen were actual pre-humans in a world of anthropomorphic animals. I've gotten way off track.

What caught me most off guard about SiJ's The Lost World is his inclusion of actual tribal rhythms in the titular cut, Night Near The Shores Of Gladys Lake, and A Fright Sight I Shall Never Forget. It's the most rhythm I've ever heard out of a SiJ album, and makes for welcome thematic variety with the other atmospheric drone pieces he crafts here (always with that distinct fuzzy melancholy). Then it all ends on a total whiplash of an under-produced tropical ditty called At The Falls. Well, under-produced compared to the deep atmospherics of what came before - almost comes off 16-bit in contrast. Say...

B°TONG - The Long Journey

Reverse Alignment: 2017

This is probably the first album I should have gotten from Chris Sigdell. I'd certainly wouldn't have burnt through as much word count on figuring out how to pronounce this project's name. In fact, the EMC jury's still out on that, though until I've confirmation on something specific, I've settled on “b'TONG”. Doesn't mean I won't keep alternating cases though! I giggle it could be either B°TONG or b°tong, for all intents based on the phases of the moon.

While I touched on the particulars of Mr. Sigdell's career, and the various labels he's taken B°TONG to, I didn't dive too deep into his discography. It's certainly an intriguing assortment of titles among his twenty-something releases: Microsleep, Hostile Environments, The Soul Eater, The Great Desintegrator, Prostration Before Infinity, Ascending In The Light Of an Alien Sun, I See Dead People Walking Around Like Regular People. What interests me the most about all these albums is his impeccable ability to sell you on the setting, whatever that theme may be. Yeah, I know, that should be par for the course where dark ambient is concerned, above all else atmospheric mood music as it soundtracks the macabre and perverse. You'd be surprised how often artists only pay lip-service to their concepts though, thinking pure abstraction is enough to coax imagery out of your imagination. And who knows, maybe the extended b°tong catalogue falls into this pattern as well – I've really only taken in a couple of his albums, hardly enough to gauge a full body of work. Still, if what I have heard is anything to go by, then I definitely gotta' hear what the deal is with that elf and 'haarp'.

What struck me most about The Long Journey is how it flew in the face of what I was expecting. You look at the cover, read the liner notes, and it all seems straight-forward enough. Giant black hole at the centre of our galaxy, spitting out intense energy at regular intervals, except for that one time when a really big burst was expunged from the galactic core. So, some deep space drone, with intermittent chaotic radio static, right? Except, a cacophony of noise hits you right out the gate of opener AX J1745.6-2900 (Sgr. A*)! Geez'it, I'm used to more lead-in than that. Even more confounding is all the racket is by way of earthly field recordings, like stepping out into a busy street. The track does lull you into a serene sense of drone for the remaining dozen minutes though, almost making you forget it smacked you across the face so harshly out the gate. And then he does it again with second track 2004 MN4 (impact risk- 1-300)!

The two remaining tracks are shorter and more conventional of this sort of dark drone, though even Hybris-MM threw me for a loop by again opening within the confines of our planetary realm. Rainfall and forlorn piano playing, eventually giving way to weirdo krautrock electronics. Rather old-school, that.

Sghor - Le Grand Mystère

Snowy Tension Pole: 2009

I think I have a problem. A music buying problem. True, one can look at my living room, see all the wall-mounted shelves holding some fifteen-hundred CDs, and say with a roll of the eyes, “Well, d'uh!” That's not what I mean though. Like, compared to some collectors, my library is paltry, a fraction of one's true potential of blowing every single penny on product (sheds, my friends, sheds). Maybe if I was less discriminate in my purchases practices, I could reach that lofty achievement(?), but nay, I remain somewhat selective, generally knowing what kind of music I'm getting and where I'm getting it from. As this blog's a hefty testament, I have a pretty firm handle on the whens and wheres of every CD I've gathered.

And now I'm holding within my grasp a CD that I've no idea where it came from. It's definitely dark ambient, but not from any of the dark ambient labels I generally buy from, and there's no general dark ambient shop I grab random albums from. Did this come included in that Databloem 'mystery box' I indulged in? That can't be right, this sound well outside the usual wheel-house that label/store operates within. The Ultimae shop, maybe? Like, this certainly looks like the sort of cover art I'd blind-buy from them, and they certainly branch out into genres that don't typically track with their primary output. Still, a dark ambient album from 2009?

Wherever I got Le Grand Mystère, here's what I (meaning Lord Discogs) know about it. The artist behind it is Sghor, who goes by Kryzsztof Mrozek in the black metal band Cold Empty Universe. He's released some half-dozen albums under this alias, first debuted with Depressive Black Ambient, with stray items released on his Bandcamp to this day. Le Grand Mystère in particular kicked off the short-lived label Snowy Tension Pole, which also featured releases from b°tong, about the only tie I can figure I have to this particular album. Lord Discogs does recommend Gustaf Hildebrand's Starscape and raison d'être's Enthralled By The Wind Of Lonelieness with it though, so that's something. I'll take whatever I can in figuring out how Le Grand Mystère popped up in my stacks o' CDs.

Anyhow, the album. There's ten tracks, all numerically titled KKK. They range from four to over ten minutes in length, and generally sound the same throughout. Sghor essentially uses discordant layered drones that ebb and flow like waves, building to a loud peak, then fading out before another emerges, each track consistent in maintaining this structure. Mostly I hear orchestral strings and operatic voices within the timbre, with the latter more prominent in tracks like KKK8 and KKK9. Or was that KKK6 and KKK2? Pretty sure there's a layered bell tone in KKK3. Honestly though, this is another album that just feels like one long track with relatively static scenery. This descent into Hell is still creepy, but who knew the Devil wasn't much for spicing up his domain's decor.

Samora - Kaleidos

Databloem: 2018

Sometimes it's never the actual album I'm reviewing that sparks the most discussion. Indeed, what more can be said for the eleven-zillionth ambient record that is released annually? I'll buy such music more for my personal interest and enjoyment, but that doesn't provide me with much material to wax the bull with. It's almost a relief when I pop over to the artist's Discoggian data and discover a rich history I've overlooked, wherein I can burn ample word count touching on prior releases and the funny label names said producer has released on. (so many funny label names... just, so many...). I was not offered such a bounty of talking-point riches with Samora, but he did dredge up some unfortunate recollections.

Samora is Enrico Marani, a synth chap who's worked with various experimental, avant-garde outfits out of Italy, Le Forbici di Manitù being the most consistent of the bunch to this day. Being part of a band for over a decade didn't leave his own muse fallow, spending time dabbling in his own original compositions. He eventually made a debut album as Samora called The Unspeakable, a collection of minimalist ambient with recited poetry from cellist Christine Hanson, released on Psychonavigation Records. Yes, that Psychonavigation Records. Hey, at least it was in 2012, before all the shit hit the fan with that label. A follow-up album came out on Psycho-N's Italian sub-label Tranquillo Records (Lontano), and when those went tits-up, a third album The Gift came out on the rebranded label Where Ambient Lives – that one also seems to have gone into limbo, though unlike the others, its Bandcamp remains up. Might be mindful of buying anything from it though. Anyhow, it seems poor Enrico finally had enough of that label's sketchy practices, and took his Samora project to the steadier Databloem for his fourth album Kaleidos. Methinks t'was a wise decision.

If your eyes didn't glaze over much in that block o' words above, you may have noticed the genre namedrop you're in for with Samora. Right, even being on Databloem is a good hint, but even the small sampling of the label's output I've indulged has shown some nice, surprising variety. This is minimalist ambient as you likely imagine it though. Stretched-out droning pads, sprinkles of piano and bell tones, fits of burbling electronics and static fluff, self-titled compositions averaging in the double-digit minute lengths with little care of destination, only the journey. In the opening track alone, I felt I was shifting into differing tonal lanes every few minutes, though Keleidos 1 is possibly one of the 'busiest' among these six pieces.

I say “possibly”, because this honestly isn't an album that sticks with me. It's ambient as pure sonic wallpaper, which is fine since that's Mr. Marani's intent. Can't knock a body of music that succeeds in the artist's vision. Just wish I could give it a stronger recommendation for others beyond the genre's faithful. So it goes in this scene.

Waki - Hurry Up And Relax

Databloem: 2011

Oh, is that an order? A command? A decree? I... don't think I can take that kind of pressure. Like, have you ever had one of those nights where you have to wake up at a specific time to make important appointments, and you can't help but feel stressed out over the need to just relax and get to sleep? Having an album title literally demand that of you is that feeling, only ten times more so! What happens if I don't hurry up and relax as Waki instructs me to? Will I not get the full context of this record without my brain turning its attention span down several notches within the first few minutes? Or will something more sinister, more insidious happen, like a ticking time-bomb planted within my psyche that will implode if I don't chill the f' down soon enough? Should I consider the caffeine content within my bloodstream before throwing this album on, whether it will significantly impede upon my ability to relax within the ascribed amount of time Waki has allotted within, whatever that time-frame may be? Just so much pressure from a single title. Just... so much...

Even more disconcerting is the fact that Hurry Up And Relax is such a schizophrenic album, I couldn't chill out to it if I tried. You'd think this being out on Databloem, it'd contain some nice ambient passages, or pleasant downtempo vibes. And it does, but th'ar be techno here too. And Kraftwerkian electro-pop. And ...drum 'n' bass? No, wait, Drum & Space is atmospheric jungle – totally different! Still doesn't make a lick of sense on Databloem though.

Still, Wakisaka Akifumi has been a rather eclectic musician for much of his career, so genre dalliances isn't that much out of the norm. Mostly fussing about in Japanese obscurity while self-releasing his stuff throughout the '90s, he caught a small break getting picked up by trendy Cologne techno label Traum Schallplatten (Music For Lazy People), then shortly after got a release on the fledgling Databloem (Music For Waki People). This is the follow-up to that, released some seven years later. Guess he figured the 4CD retrospective Special he released in between would sate all the Waki-fans for a while.

When I say Hurry Up And Relax is schizo', I ain't messing. This album has the sort of lengthy, minimalist pieces of dense timbre you'd expect out of harmonic Japanese ambient, but will follow them up with something out of a totally different release. Stargate sounds like it should be in a Swayzak DJ set, not surrounded by two atonal drone compositions. How does Ocean's retro Berlin-School noodling mesh with the aforementioned Drum & Space? Going from the languid ambience of Family to the oddball electro-pop of Dr. Loveburger? Sure, I think these are all interesting tracks on their own, but come off nonsensical when mashed all together as they are here. Context: an important factor that I'm either completely missing, or Hurry Up And Relax lacks regardless.

Skare - Grader

Reverse Alignment: 2015

Yet another indulgence of mine in breaking the chains of digital purchases. Not a huge one, mind, and looking back now, it seems odd that I'd do so with an item out on Reverse Alignment from an act I knew nothing about. Even the cover art, while still invoking that frigid-blue alpine clime' I'm strangely drawn towards, isn't that terribly unique among such things. Maybe just in the context of Reverse Alignment releases, hence it leaping out at me when browsing for more things from SiJ and b°tong? Certainly more than the one with the ruins in a mouldy green, or the one with an obscured dark symbol, or the one with the vampiress in the the red dress, or the one with... y'know, I haven't a clue what's going on with Stratvm Terror's This Is My Own Hell. Something un-right, that's for sure.

Skare is a pairing of Mathias Josefson and Per Åhlund, who've done various works while living around the Stockholm region. Mr. Josefson appears the busier of the two, a discography stretching back to the turn of the millennium, even releasing a few solo items on Reverse Alignment as Moljebka Pvlse (plus other labels like Cold Meat Industry, Greytone, Isoramra, Gears Of Sand, and AudioTONG ...hehe, go on, say that one out loud, I know you can't resist). Some time during the late '00s, the two crossed paths and released a collaborative album as Skare on Glacial Movements Records. Huh, that's an interesting name, I wonder what they have? Ooh, I see there's Rapoon, BVDub, Stormloop... oh my, a CD bundle deal on their Bandcamp too? *sigh* Another one for the bookmark folder.

Grader isn't so much a follow-up to the 2009 album Solstice City, but a gathering of live performances done before the release of their debut. Um, just two of them. Look, Solstice City only had three tracks on it, so it's not like they had a wide catalogue to pull from. And that's beside the point, as the two compositions here are original pieces, bumping the entire Skare discography to five tracks. That's at least one more than a fly-by-night, anonymous synthwave alias!

-5° is a fairly empty track, but that's kinda' the point. Muted clicks, distant drones, and what sounds like someone scraping metal across a violin string about make up the bulk of it's first half. Then things go real deep into the minimalist drone, discordant timbre, barren field recordings, and sparse piano tones, eventually layering to an atonal crescendo. I imagine this is the dread mountain climbers feel when they see an incoming squall barrelling down on their former tranquil setting. -30°, meanwhile, comes off as though we're surveying the aftermath, haunting drones painting a setting of everything turned to a ghostly frozen waste, the screams of the dead ensconced within icy prisons. Man, mountain climbing's some scary shit. Like, I already get nasty vertigo in open heights, but when the weather is just as deadly as the gravity, well...

The Circular Ruins and Mystified - Fantastic Journey

dataObscura: 2013

As I said, you can't go three CDs into dataObscura's discography without bumping into Anthony Kerby. As it should be, since it's his print and all. I don't know enough about the man's history to gauge whether The Circular Ruins or Nunc Stans is his primary outlet though, as they both have comparable numbers; nor have I listened to enough to gauge what differentiates each project from the other. As mentioned in my initial introduction to Mr. Kerby, he has quite the extensive catalog of music.

And yet, he may pale compared to the chap he's collaborating with on this particular release, minimalist dark-drone auteur Thomas Park. This Mystified handle lists over three-hundred releases alone with Lord Discogs, and you can add a hundred more including his various other projects. Most of this was accomplished within the past fifteen years, with items out on labels such as Treetrunk Records, Latex Records, Mbira Records, Webbed Hand Records, Enough Records, Phage Tapes, First Fallen Star, Bone Structure, We Are All Ghosts, Smell The Stench, and DumpsterScore. I'm sensing a theme here.

Anyhow, Park had worked with Kerby before, on a Nunc Stans album, so given their relentless work-rate, it makes sense they'd reconvene for another project – law of averages, and all that. This time though, they had a very specific concept in mind, and if the cover art or title wasn't a dead giveaway, you'd better turn in whatever nerd cred you thought you had. This some old school sci-fi stuff, my friends. Though I do have to ask, is that the official design of Captain Nemo's Nautilus, or just the Disney movie version? Or was the Disney model faithful to the original design? Lots of conflicting GIS returns on the matter.

While this isn't strictly a Jules Verne love-in, his works are certainly a heavy inspiration. There's also nods to other retro sci-fi outings like Forbidden Planet, and Star Trek (man, that's a deep dive with Beyond The Farthest Star), with music that befits the score of any of those properties. Naturally, opener Twenty Thousand Leagues works the cavernous dub drone as minimalist pads pierce the layers of sonic murk, all the while light tones flicker by like spritely jellyfish floating past your submersible. The World Beneath features the sort of minimalist musique concrete sounds as found in the actual 'score' for Forbidden Planet, while the track Forbidden Planet features creepy, pulsing synth sounds and drones. Meanwhile, Mysterious Island edges closer to the domain of modern classical synth drone (melody!), while Beyond The Farthest Star has something a more empty and spaced-out in mind. No matter where we go in these fantastic journeys though, we must all eventually take The Voyage Home, the final track almost melancholic in its use of orchestral strings, synth drones, and distant mechanical breaths.

Fantastic Journey isn't an essential listen – too much dawdle for long stretches – but I cannot deny coming away from it feeling like I've seen things you wouldn't believe.

Ajna - An Era Of Torment

Reverse Alignment: 2017

When I first picked this up, I didn't think I was getting an Ajna album, even though his name is right there on the cover. Truth is, as I browsed through Reverse Alignment's catalogue during another label splurge, I had my eye out for SiJ, whose collaborative album Queer Reminiscence with Item Caligo had also appeared on the dark ambient print. I knew there were other albums from him on Reverse Alignment (specifically The Lost World ...more on that at a later date), which is the only reason I can give for how I'd mistake Ajna for SiJ. Okay, there's a 'J' in both their aliases too, but geez, they don't even share the same amount of syllables. I suppose I also recognized the name 'Ajna' from somewhere before, and with SiJ most prominently on my mind at the time, my brain did one of those lazy word association thingies it likes to do.

Turns out I did review an Ajna release – or rather, a collaborative album with Dronny Darko, Black Monolith. I... honestly feel kinda' bad that I forgot about Ajna's participation in that project, especially as I did a decent write-up of his background there. I've not much more to add here either, in that his output's slowed down some since that release. This particular album was the follow-up to Black Monolith, and he put out another LP with Cyclic Law the next year (Lucid Intrusion), which entices me to claim all he needs to complete a dark ambient super-label hat-trick is something out on Cryo Chamber. That would be silly to claim though, as I have no idea whether Reverse Alignment, Cyclic Law, and Cryo Chamber actually do make up some unholy trinity of top-tier dark ambient output. They're just the three most prominent ones I know.

If you've somehow forgotten the Ajna stylee as described in the Black Monolith review, the quick refresher blurb is he's mostly about those wide-screen soundscapes and drones, making you feel detached and isolated from your immediate meatspace. You could be sitting in the middle of a bustling park in the middle of a summer afternoon, but with Ajna's compositions playing on headphones, you'll swear you're as alone as the last human on Earth.

Thus introspection is the name of the game in An Era Of Torment, where crippling anxiety and senseless self-doubt can create lifetime prisons within our own psyches. Ajna spends six tracks exploring this theme, mostly through melancholy pads permeating layers of whispy timbre. It can sound desolate at times, but never so empty as a lot of this sort of drone goes. Field recordings like shuffling feet and spoken dialog help retain some sense of comfort, and the album does end on the subtlest of uplifting tones. Ajna sure makes you earn any positive feels though, which seems appropriate given the subject matter. Best save An Era Of Torment for those evenings when you don't mind walking endless distances in the dark of a cool night.

Nunc Stans - Elementa

dataObscura: 2016

Lord Discogs lists dataObscura a spin-off from Databloem, and it appears the chap who got the spin started was Anthony Paul Kerby. I'm reviewing his Nunc Stans project in particular here, but he's released material as The Circular Ruins and Lammergeyer as well, with dataObscura his main label of output. He still pops in with occasional releases with daddy Databloem, plus the odd item elsewhere (Construct, Musical Philosophy, ping things), but by and large, this is his home. And hoo, has he kept it stuffed, Nunc Stans alone providing the dataObscura discography with sixteen releases. Meanwhile, The Circular Ruins is featured with fourteen releases on this print, and Lammergeyer adding eight more releases to the label's catalogue. And let's not forget Anthony's collaboration with Robert Davies as The Winterhouse, providing an additional eight albums more (speaking of Robert Davies, hoo boy, is that ever a discography as well).

If you've been keeping count, this all adds up to a shit-tonne of music from Anthony Kerby over the past two decades. How can I do any of this man's work justice by diving nearly blind into this one particular album I only got because the cover art intrigued me? Probably can't, but as I have picked up a few more of his releases in a recent Databloem/dataObscura splurge, I should gain at least some insight into where his muse wanders in no time.

For now, I have the cold opening of Elementa, a generally minimalist, modern classical drone outing. Not so frigid as the mountain peak would lead you to believe, though imparting a sense of desolate grandeur just the same, as strings and synths carry on in layers of timbre that are at once dense, yet distinct. It doesn't leave much room for melody, making such harmonic moments all the more poignant between the atonal movements (to say nothing of the sparse percussion occasionally piercing the thick musical atmosphere).

Does Elementa ever take its time in getting to where it's going, though. By the album's end, it almost sounds as though a veil has been lifted, a misty fog once obscuring the scenery revealing just how much splendour surrounds you, though you must suffer through some early impenetrable murk to arrive there. It's certainly a 'rewards repeated listens' type of album, but when it takes three tracks to feel like you're making any musical progress, it can be challenging sticking through the duration without the mind wandering.

And that got me thinking about other drone ambient albums I've listened to, and what makes some stand out more than others. As with so much music presented in an LP format, those opening moments are critical in hooking you in, something catching your attention just enough that it lingers in your memory, hinting at similar ideas or themes await. It's a subtle thing, but I think necessary for albums like this to leave a lasting impression. Instead, Elementa has some intriguing moments, but doesn't retain much after.