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There’s no mistaking the sultry lilt of Eliana Glass—alternating between an offbeat, searching quality and her poignant, awe-inspiring range. Her piano playing also possesses this stirring push and pull between the otherworldly and painfully human—each melody its own unique, aching realm. Glass’ sparse, meditative music often captures, in her words, the “condensation of everyday life,” an image that suits the bittersweet, ephemeral, and abstract nature of her work. Glass’ debut album, E, arrives via Shelter Press, and not only is it a tender portrait of her lifelong relationship with the piano, it’s also a distillation of entire lifetimes into song.
The Australia-born, Seattle-bred, and New York-based singer-songwriter and pianist learned to sing and play piano by ear as a child. Glass took an immediate liking to her parents’ piano, frequently hiding underneath it and letting her imagination run wild. “I felt protected under the wooden beams, and I remember looking up at the legs, wires, and foot pedals and seeing the instrument in a new way—everything suddenly everted,” Glass recalls. “I like to think about E as recalling this memory in sound.”
Glass spent years learning jazz standards, and she also learned to sing in Portuguese after falling in love with Brazilian music. Glass studied jazz voice at The New School under teachers Andrew Cyrille, Ben Street, Jay Clayton, and Kris Davis, and she began singing in piano/bass/drums quartets around New York City. In the latter half of her studies, she started writing her own songs inspired by boundary-pushing artists like Ornette Coleman, Asha Puthli, and Jeanne Lee. During the height of the pandemic, she lived with her brother Costa (who now records as ifiwereme) and felt drawn to the piano again, and they wrote songs together for the first time. Then, over a four-year span, Glass teamed up with Public Records co-founder and producer Francis Harris (Frank & Tony, Adultnapper) and engineer Bill Skibbe (Shellac, Jack White) to record what became E in various studios in Nashville, Brooklyn, Memphis, and Benton Harbor, Michigan.
Glass’ experimental, improvisational works evoke the sensual minimalism of Annette Peacock, the joyful mysteriousness of Carla Bley, and the wistful intimacy of Sibylle Baier. Her reverence for leftfield jazz and free improv greats is evident, but it’s always filtered through her signature nascent, naturalistic sound. “Dreams” is a majestic take on Peacock’s spine-tingling 1971 track of the same name, “Sing Me Softly the Blues” is a minimal, arresting reimagination of Bley’s jazz standard with lyrics adapted by Norwegian vocalist Karin Krog, and “Emahoy” is a languorous tribute to Ethiopian pianist, composer, and nun Emahoy Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou and her 2006 compilation Éthiopiques. Glass’ music rests on a tactile, mercurial sound and her vocal brawn and versatility. E’s slippery stabs of double bass and drums tickle the ear canal and accentuate the percussiveness of her distinctive low voice, which blends sonorous, androgynous poise with fluttering delicacy.
E also has an enigmatic electronic bent that heightens the blurry emotions of Glass’ songwriting. From background hiss and windy vocals to kaleidoscopic synths, these subtle, tasteful adornments often came from specialized analog equipment: a 1960s underground echo chamber, a Cooper Time Cube (essentially, the hardware equivalent of processing audio through a garden hose), and a 1940s AEA ribbon microphone. But that doesn’t mean E sounds dated—Glass’ songs bloom with a forward-thinking spirit and ultimately function as vehicles for her heady emotions and fragmented memories and dreams.
For E, Glass challenged herself to channel full lifetimes within each track. Astonishingly, the seductive opening song “All My Life” manages this feat with just its three-word title. Songs like this one, the breathy ballad “Shrine,” and the spare, folky “On the Way Down” brood over past lives and reflect on memories as if disembodied and viewed from above. From missed connections to retired nicknames (“Good Friends Call Me E”), there’s a pervasive sense of disintegration and a fear of lost time. Other tracks like solo piano-and-voice numbers “Flood” and “Solid Stone” engage in more elusive storytelling, marked by brutal imagery and timeless characters. Then there’s “Human Dust,” a tranquil, rhythm-driven rendition of conceptual artist Agnes Denes’ 1969 text—a quite literal summary of a life.
Eliana Glass has come a long way since daydreaming beneath a towering keyboard. Glass’ peculiar vocal alchemy and vivid piano saunters are masterful and wholly her own, and her forthcoming debut full-length is a gift of resonant beauty and rewarding ambiguity. She now performs around New York City with bandmates Walter Stinson (bass) and Mike Gebhart (drums), in addition to solo shows perched in front of a 1979 Moog Opus organ. Also an accomplished visual artist in her own right, Glass is firmly in control of her inspired visions, even if E is spiritually adrift—though that’s kind of the point. As a musician and an improviser, Glass is enamored by and an adept wielder of the search—for meaning, for sounds, for newness, for connection. And just like Krog crooned on “Sing Me Softly the Blues” in 1975: “Life’s so thrilling / if you search.”

There’s no mistaking the sultry lilt of Eliana Glass—alternating between an offbeat, searching quality and her poignant, awe-inspiring range. Her piano playing also possesses this stirring push and pull between the otherworldly and painfully human—each melody its own unique, aching realm. Glass’ sparse, meditative music often captures, in her words, the “condensation of everyday life,” an image that suits the bittersweet, ephemeral, and abstract nature of her work. Glass’ debut album, E, arrives via Shelter Press, and not only is it a tender portrait of her lifelong relationship with the piano, it’s also a distillation of entire lifetimes into song.
The Australia-born, Seattle-bred, and New York-based singer-songwriter and pianist learned to sing and play piano by ear as a child. Glass took an immediate liking to her parents’ piano, frequently hiding underneath it and letting her imagination run wild. “I felt protected under the wooden beams, and I remember looking up at the legs, wires, and foot pedals and seeing the instrument in a new way—everything suddenly everted,” Glass recalls. “I like to think about E as recalling this memory in sound.”
Glass spent years learning jazz standards, and she also learned to sing in Portuguese after falling in love with Brazilian music. Glass studied jazz voice at The New School under teachers Andrew Cyrille, Ben Street, Jay Clayton, and Kris Davis, and she began singing in piano/bass/drums quartets around New York City. In the latter half of her studies, she started writing her own songs inspired by boundary-pushing artists like Ornette Coleman, Asha Puthli, and Jeanne Lee. During the height of the pandemic, she lived with her brother Costa (who now records as ifiwereme) and felt drawn to the piano again, and they wrote songs together for the first time. Then, over a four-year span, Glass teamed up with Public Records co-founder and producer Francis Harris (Frank & Tony, Adultnapper) and engineer Bill Skibbe (Shellac, Jack White) to record what became E in various studios in Nashville, Brooklyn, Memphis, and Benton Harbor, Michigan.
Glass’ experimental, improvisational works evoke the sensual minimalism of Annette Peacock, the joyful mysteriousness of Carla Bley, and the wistful intimacy of Sibylle Baier. Her reverence for leftfield jazz and free improv greats is evident, but it’s always filtered through her signature nascent, naturalistic sound. “Dreams” is a majestic take on Peacock’s spine-tingling 1971 track of the same name, “Sing Me Softly the Blues” is a minimal, arresting reimagination of Bley’s jazz standard with lyrics adapted by Norwegian vocalist Karin Krog, and “Emahoy” is a languorous tribute to Ethiopian pianist, composer, and nun Emahoy Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou and her 2006 compilation Éthiopiques. Glass’ music rests on a tactile, mercurial sound and her vocal brawn and versatility. E’s slippery stabs of double bass and drums tickle the ear canal and accentuate the percussiveness of her distinctive low voice, which blends sonorous, androgynous poise with fluttering delicacy.
E also has an enigmatic electronic bent that heightens the blurry emotions of Glass’ songwriting. From background hiss and windy vocals to kaleidoscopic synths, these subtle, tasteful adornments often came from specialized analog equipment: a 1960s underground echo chamber, a Cooper Time Cube (essentially, the hardware equivalent of processing audio through a garden hose), and a 1940s AEA ribbon microphone. But that doesn’t mean E sounds dated—Glass’ songs bloom with a forward-thinking spirit and ultimately function as vehicles for her heady emotions and fragmented memories and dreams.
For E, Glass challenged herself to channel full lifetimes within each track. Astonishingly, the seductive opening song “All My Life” manages this feat with just its three-word title. Songs like this one, the breathy ballad “Shrine,” and the spare, folky “On the Way Down” brood over past lives and reflect on memories as if disembodied and viewed from above. From missed connections to retired nicknames (“Good Friends Call Me E”), there’s a pervasive sense of disintegration and a fear of lost time. Other tracks like solo piano-and-voice numbers “Flood” and “Solid Stone” engage in more elusive storytelling, marked by brutal imagery and timeless characters. Then there’s “Human Dust,” a tranquil, rhythm-driven rendition of conceptual artist Agnes Denes’ 1969 text—a quite literal summary of a life.
Eliana Glass has come a long way since daydreaming beneath a towering keyboard. Glass’ peculiar vocal alchemy and vivid piano saunters are masterful and wholly her own, and her forthcoming debut full-length is a gift of resonant beauty and rewarding ambiguity. She now performs around New York City with bandmates Walter Stinson (bass) and Mike Gebhart (drums), in addition to solo shows perched in front of a 1979 Moog Opus organ. Also an accomplished visual artist in her own right, Glass is firmly in control of her inspired visions, even if E is spiritually adrift—though that’s kind of the point. As a musician and an improviser, Glass is enamored by and an adept wielder of the search—for meaning, for sounds, for newness, for connection. And just like Krog crooned on “Sing Me Softly the Blues” in 1975: “Life’s so thrilling / if you search.”

Trilogie de la Mort is a work in three parts for anologue Arp synthesizer. The first third of the work, Kyema is inspired by The Tibetan Book of the Dead and invokes the six intermediate states that constitute the existential continuity of the being. Kailasha, the second chapter, is structured on an imaginary pilgrimage around Mt. Kailash, one of the most sacred mountains in the Himalayas. Koumé, makes up the last part of the trilogy and emphasizes the transcendence of death.

On December 11, 1980 Eliane Radigue performed live on KPFA. Her full performance is included here, remastered, on two compact discs. Upon hearing these performances for the first time in many years Radigue declared them to be the best versions she'd ever heard. Included are full in-studio performances of Chry-ptus and the world premiere of parts one and three of Tryptych.


The tenth and final anthology from Blank Forms explores the early electronic work of French composer Éliane Radigue, whose radical approach to feedback, analog synthesis, and composition on tape has long evaded historical and technical interpretation. Combining key texts, newly translated primary documents, interviews, and commissioned essays, this compendium interrogates the composer’s idiosyncratic compositional practice, which both embraces and confounds the iterative nature of magnetic tape, the subtleties of amplification, and the very experience of listening.
Among these entries is an in-depth overview by cellist Charles Curtis, a close collaborator of Radigue’s, examining the composer’s earliest experiments with feedback techniques and analog synthesis, her eventual shift to composing for unamplified instruments and live performers, and her unique aesthetic configurations of time and presence. A number of detailed conversations between the composer and researchers Georges Haessig, Patrick de Haas, Ian Nagoski, and Bernard Girard provide crucial insights into her working methods at different points throughout her career. Religious studies scholar Dagmar Schwerk reflects upon Radigue’s profound synthesizer work Trilogie de la Mort (1988–93) in the context of Tibetan Buddhist thought and its history, while texts by musicians Daniel Silliman and Madison Greenstone examine, in notably different ways, the technical characteristics of Radigue’s sound practice. Sketches for unrealized work, contemporary reviews, concert programs, and other ephemera mapping the performance history of Radigue’s early work are presented together for the first time. The anthology concludes with a roundtable discussion between Curtis, Greenstone, and Anthony Vine, untangling the knot of paradoxes at the center of Radigue’s artistic practice to trace the thread of her continued “ethos of resistance.”
Eliane Radigue's Chry-Ptus is her very first piece for the modular synthesizer. It was composed in 1971 using a Buchla 100 which had recently been installed at NYU by Morton Subotnick. This double-LP was mastered by Golden and pressed at RTI for maximum fidelity.
From the original press release: "Chry-Ptus (1971). Originally two tapes which were to be played simultaneously, with or without synchronisation, which does not affect the structure of the work, but creates changes in the game of sub-harmonics and overtones. Three variations on this piece were performed at the New York Cultural Center in 1971, with variations of amplitude and location modulation as well as synchronisation. Realized on the Buchla Synthesizer at the New York University. The booklet contains a text by painter Paul Jenkins, who also realised the watercolor on the front cover, written on occasion of Radigue's first concert in New York, April 6th, 1971. "It's with the Buchla that I constructed Chry-ptus, a piece made up of two tapes with an analogue duration, 22 or 23 minutes, which could be played either simultaneously or with a slight time difference, so as to establish slight variations every time the piece was played. I spent the first months eliminating everything I did not want; I even used a notebook in which I tried to determine a writing system resembling chemical formulae." --Eliane Radigue

Alga marghen very proudly presents the last chapter from the Feedback Works documentation series, a brand new LP including “In Memoriam-Ostinato” and “Danse des Dakinis”, two previous unreleased tracks by Eliane Radigue.
Among the works of fixed duration from the feedback period, “In Memoriam-Ostinato” is the link between “Jouet Electronique” (alga marghen LP, cat. Alga029) and “Opus 17” (alga marghen 2LP, cat. Alga045), and allows us to understand the evolution of her approach. It is a measured gesture, slow, it is music without any major event, an extending state, contemplation. “In Memoriam-Ostinato” is a game of mirroring symbols which glide into a non-measured, bent and elastic, temporality. The ear ventures into it, lets itself go and gets lost.
As Eliane Radigue recalls: “This piece was commissioned for a Happening, Mémorial. It was a sort of secular procession to the castle of Verderonne, a beautiful place. The pools bordering the edifice were lit, and everyone was dressed or draped in mauve. It terminated in one of the grand salons of the castle where I played “In Memoriam-Ostinato”.”
Eliane Radigue’s working method and her aesthetic direction are evident in this work from 1969: her very own unique temporal space of sonic experiences.
Even though it bears the same name as the third part of “Adnos III”, “Danse des Dakinis” is a peculiar work in Eliane’s oeuvre.
Conceived in a short time, with all kind of tapes from the composer's past work, it fluently shows a kaleidoscopic vision of Radigue's sensibility for sound. In 1998 she put together a curious self-portrait in sound. The piece seems to resonate between two mountains. An echo folds time untiringly. We are in the memoir echo-chamber of Eliane Radigue’s spirit, a hall of mirrors that reflects and multiplies her, diffracting her as through a prism. Or, more precisely, reflecting her sensibility at different stages of her life.
There is a feedback ostinato conceived around 1969 and which refers to “In Memoriam-Ostinato” and “Opus 17”. All through “Danse des Dakinis” we plonge into the sound of a creek recorded at Mills College campus that brings us back to the field-recordings from the beginning of the 1960s, made on the coasts of the Mediterranean Sea. Such elements construct “Elemental1” (alga marghen LP, cat. Alga029) as well. There are also some discreet interventions on the ARP 2500 synthesizer. It is indeed a peculiar work, which doesn't have the same features of her other compositions, especially at that time of her compositional path.
There is an explanation for the composer producing this kind of sound material in 1998, and not limited to the sound waves of the ARP synthesizer. Invited to a workshop at Mills College in 1998, Eliane Radigue could not load herself down with her bulky instrument on such a trip. So she left with just a few tapes taken from her own collection, drawn from different periods, and composed “Danse des Dakinis” with those old elements.
There is tension in this composition, a certain wildness, an unpredictability of elements, those which are recognized as fundamental elements, which give structure to the universe. Such versatility will surprise those who know the music of Eliane Radigue, it is a unique but powerful example of her way of dealing with sound, of exposing herself with it, integrating with it.
In this Elaine Radigue is faithful to the theme suggested by the title: A dakini is a female deity in Vajrayana Buddhism or a female demon in Hinduism. Spirits of nature, they are witches, or female demons in India and the Himalayas. In Tibetan Buddhism they can be subjugated earthly deities, wrathful female forms of bodhisattvas or buddhas, or simply historic or legendary figures. The dakinis symbolize a wild and natural state and, according to a buddhistic interpretation, absence of ego or mental obstacles, nature itself revealed.
“Dance des Dakinis” is an intimate and wild symphony, alive and unpredictable, which is to be the next-to-last gesture of the composer before completely stopping her work with electronics.

Saltern presents a thrilling new live recording of Naldjorlak for solo cello, composer Éliane Radigue’s first piece for an acoustic instrument, paired with a remastered version of the long out-of-print, original 2006 recording. Composed in 2005 in close collaboration with cellist Charles Curtis, Naldjorlak marked a striking shift in the music of Radigue, who has since composed exclusively for instrumentalists with her celebrated Occam series. This album brings together two complete performances by Curtis, recorded nearly 15 years apart (Paris in 2006 and Los Angeles in 2020), drawing attention to the evolution of the piece and to its inherent mutability. The sound and spirit of Naldjorlak are centered around the re-tuning of the entire cello to the wolf tone, a uniquely unstable frequency, creating a haunting, almost feedback-like resonance within the instrument itself.
From Gascia Ouzounian’s liner notes: “Even as it expands conceptions of what sound is, and thus what music can be, to understand Naldjorlak only as music would be to limit its scope. It is music, but it is also physics and philosophy. Naldjorlak is a detailed investigation of the physical properties of resonating bodies and dynamic systems; it is a meditation on the condition of instability; it is a metaphysics of chaos and uncertainty.”
"In bringing these recordings together, the album presents the composition as a living, breathing document, illustrating how Radigue’s music embraces time’s unpredictability in both structure and performance." —Vanessa Ague, Pitchfork
<iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 241px;" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=958261425/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=333333/artwork=none/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="https://saltern.bandcamp.com/album/naldjorlak">Naldjorlak by Éliane Radigue</a></iframe>

アルバムについて Occam Ocean is a series of acoustic compositions made for and with individual instrumentalists by the late French composer Éliane Radigue. Extending the interactive process pioneered in Naldjorlak (2005–2009), Occam Ocean employs a scoreless method of composing in dialogue with each performer. Dating back to 2011, the series has proliferated almost organically, growing out of a musical and social dynamic of combinatoriality and multiplication to a catalog of more than eighty discrete compositions. This body of work stands as one of the most extraordinary late-career outpourings in recent music history. The Occam series was catalyzed in part by a visit to the Natural History Museum in Los Angeles, where Radigue encountered a depiction of the electromagnetic spectrum—from radio signals to gamma rays—which impressed upon her the minuscule range of human hearing relative to the seemingly unlimited compass of universal wavelength and frequency. The Occam compositions seem to address this vertiginous confrontation with the infinite; each individual composition elaborates a radically reduced technique or sound process, frequently working outward from only a handful of fundamental tones, to expose the flickering, idiosyncratic spectral behavior of the instrument. The reference to William of Ockham indicates a principled commitment to parsimony; paradoxically, the reduction in material content makes possible an incommensurate richness in perceived acoustical detail. Notable in the Occam series is the inextricable identification of the composition with the performer for whom, and with whom, it was made. The particular sounds and techniques of each individual performer are thus indelibly stamped in the composition; the piece composes the playing of that musician, as much as the musician plays the composition. The time-honored division of labor between performer and composer is thus suspended and reconfigured, proposing a model for new music composition that has not yet been fully theorized or understood. Occam XIII, Occam River XI (presented here in two distinct readings, which reveal subtle variations in instrumental response), and Occam V feature two longtime collaborators of Radigue in solo and duo formations. Charles Curtis, the first instrumentalist for whom Radigue wrote an acoustic composition (Naldjorlak), performs on cello, while Dafne Vicente-Sandoval—whose parallel investigations into her instrument’s complex sounding properties led her to collaborate with Radigue—performs on bassoon. The works were recorded at Temple Saint-Théodule, La Tour-de-Peilz, Switzerland, during a 2024 residency at La Becque, a setting previously explored by the musicians for its distinctive acoustic properties.

Eliane Radigue's complete Opus 17 (1970), her finest and final work created using feedback, is contained on this double CD. With Opus 17 Radigue perfected her slow mixing technique with sublime results. Imperceptible transformations envelop the attentive listener who is confronted with an immensely physical experience. Time is suspended in powerfully poetic and artful ways as Radigue masterfully sculpts the physical matter of sound using feedback for the last time.
Opus 17 is an absolutely essential masterpiece in the realm of early electro-acoustic/drone/minimalist composition.
Metallic silver ink printed on high gloss paper.

Originally released on Lovely Music in 1998. Double CD of all five of Elaine Radigue's songs in tribute to the Tibetan saint and poet from the 11th century. Two of the tracks dates from Radigue's first release in 1983, two are previously unreleased and the final 62-minute track was previously issued as a sole CD in 1987. The material is performed by Radigue (synthesizer and recording), Robert Ashley (English voice), and Lama Kunga Rinpoche (Tibetan voice). Radigue was born in France and has studied under Pierre Shaeffer and Pierre Henry; her musical has an extremely organic and mystical electronics vibe, and has been previously documented on Phill Niblock's XI label, as well as Metamkine and Lovely. Milarepa is a great saint and poet of Tibet who lived in the 11th century. Through years dedicated to meditation and related practices in the solitude of the mountains, Milarepa achieved the highest attainable illumination and the mental power that enabled him to guide innumerable disciples. His ability to present complex teachings in a simple, lucid style is astonishing. He had a fine voice and loved to sing. When his patrons and disciples made a request or asked him a question, he answered in spontaneously composed free-flowing poems or lyric songs. It is said that he composed 100,000 songs to communicate his ideas in his teachings and conversations.


Following up last year's acclaimed 'Heavy Glory' and collabs with Dean Blunt and Yung Lean, Iceage's Elias Rønnenfelt maxes on Yves Tumor-indebted hyper-sexual '90s indie-isms, trading sniffs 'n sneers with Erika de Casier, Fine and The Congos. RIYL Happy Mondays, Primal Scream or Bar Italia.
Rønnenfelt's always been good at predicting tidal shifts. Even when he was a teen fronting hardcore punk heroes Iceage he repeatedly bucked expectations, choosing to tour with fringe noise operatives like Helm and evolve the band's sound into something more like Spiritualized, augmenting chugging Britpop references with a full gospel choir on 2021's 'Seek Shelter'. So when his solo debut arrived last year, its peculiarity was almost a given; why wouldn't it be a set of country-tinted folk-rock jammers backed up with covers of Spacemen 3 and Townes Van Zandt? 'Speak Daggers', though, is a different beast altogether. Made in his bedroom between tours, it's a thicker, more confidently obstinate album than its predecessor that plays more like a continuation or evolution of 'Seek Shelter'. So after a smirking fake-out with the Nyman-esque 'Intro', 'Crush the Devil's Head' busses us to Manchester via Oxford, juxtaposing its cheeky melodica moans with Rønnenfelt's best Thom Yorke impression.
'Love How It Feels' sounds like Primal Scream reimagined by Yves Tumor, all thick sampled breaks, bolshy doomsaying and clammy glam undertones. There's an era-appropriate jaunt to Jamaica on 'Not Gonna Follow' that repurposes material Rønnenfelt recorded with The Congos and I-Jahbar when he was out in Jamaica a few years ago and sounds as if it could have fallen off the notorious '...Yes Please' sessions. And on 'Mona Lisa', he uses the Bobby Byrd 'Hot Pants' break that The Stone Roses famously twinned with Mani's enduring bassline on 'Fools Gold' - Rønnenfelt's tale of heartbreak isn't quite as toothsome, but it's a good indicator of where his head's at. A duet with Erika de Casier helps bolster highlight 'Blunt Force Trauma', and Rønnenfelt's Escho bandmate Fine - whose voice graces Two Shell's 'Home' - pitches in on 'Kill Your Neighbor', tapping into the seam between Denise Johnson and Hope Sandoval.

Ever since my childhood, women artists have been particularly inspiring to me. It started with rock music and electronica, evolving into where I am today.
When I first listened to "L'Île re-sonante", it changed my world. That a woman created this and pioneered something timeless was mesmerising for me. I love this piece so much that I dedicated a whole episode to it on my podcast with Jono Podmore - Talk to the Chip: www.mixcloud.com/talk_to_the_chip/talk-to-the-chip-episode-3-l%C3%AEle-re-sonante-%C3%A9liane-radigue/
The sonorities and harmonics that gradually evolve into a beautiful ethereal world of sounds with ARP 2500 and field recordings - simple but also sophisticated.
Then I further delved into the work of Eliane Radigue. She had been creating ambient electronic music long before the term "ambient" was coined. That she is still around us is such a valuable thing and we should all make her feel that. I am honoured to contribute to this even if it is little - the little I can do by getting inspired and creating a work as part of a series that has her name in it. It is truly an honour. Her music and approaches keep on inspiring mine. I am grateful that sheexists.
Track titles have references to sky objects and physical phenomena as well as events that affect me in my life as I observe my environment, while listening to the sounds, sometimes alongside music such as those created by Radigue herself. These include dramatic facts and stories that happen to some sky objects. Each track is connected to one another. In this manner, they make a whole track together as in a concept album. I do not use a lot of equipment when I make music. I like to keep my setup minimal and make the best of limitations, pushing the boundaries. In doing so, I used my own Max/MSP patches to process the sounds usually with granular synthesis, FM synthesis, and wavetable synthesis. I also used my Game Boy and electric guitar as my main instruments. There are also glimpse of field recordings blended with music. My absolute pitch means that I hear musical sounds in anything I hear or listen to and this influences my approach to field recording and everyday sounds, which is something I tried to capture in this album.
-- Elif Yalvaç <iframe style="border: 0; width: 350px; height: 307px;" src="https://bandcamp.com/EmbeddedPlayer/album=2187791330/size=large/bgcol=ffffff/linkcol=333333/artwork=none/transparent=true/" seamless><a href="https://elianetapes.bandcamp.com/album/vection">Vection by Elif Yalvaç</a></iframe>

Even in these most turbulent of times, dub musician and fatigued onlooker Elijah Minnelli remains an inexplicable stalwart on the lower rungs of the Breadminster County Council.
His latest record ‘Clams As A Main Meal’ continues his astute siphoning of council funds, this time with help from the Breadminster Board of Abstinence. As a further mark of respect, the original head of the Board, Dr. K'houldoux, graces the cover art in his infamous ‘Looming Moon of Desire’ guise.*
As fine a backdrop as any for Minneli’s off-brand dub experiments, and ‘Clams…’ is the truest representation of his varied wheelhouse yet…
We find vocal appearances from dub goliath Dennis Bovell and Welsh-language singer Carwyn Ellis. A pair of tracks which build on 2024’s acclaimed ‘Perpetual Musket’, a collection of folk songs reworked alongside reggae vocalists, released by FatCat Records. It garnered glowing reviews, with nods from The Guardian and The Quietus concluding with prominent appearances on their respective yearly round-up lists.
Elsewhere, the album finds Minnelli in a more experimental mode, all wheezing contraptions and cockeyed bass, creaking with the weight of creation, a satisfying tactility laid seam-side up.
As well as ‘Perpetual Musket’, the new album follows years of sold out 7" singles, handmade and self-released. Online, the tracks have amassed global streams numbering in the millions. His tracks have found play across an eclectic range of radio mixes and dance floors, most notably the likes of Andrew Weatherall, Batu, Optimo and Zakia Sewell (BBC6Music).
It is perhaps worth mentioning that this everbuilding interest in his work is at great odds with the growing suspicions amongst his fellow townsfolk, who see his Breadminster County Council Music Initiative as nothing more than an empty cash-grab.
*For further reading on the Breadminster Board of Abstinence, please see below.
Further Reading on the Breadminster Board of Abstinence
In the late 70s, Breadminster was awash with the last vestiges of the hippy era. Though the flared silhouette of the lower leg remained, the utopian ideals that had once flowed merrily around the youth's shaded ankles had begun to wane. LSD and free love had led to a sharp spike in population and a generation of children raised by air-headed psychonauts unprepared for the bleary-eyed strictures of parenthood.
Aware of the crisis, the County Council entrusted Dr. Paulinque K'houldoux to spearhead a pushback, and it was his pro-abstinence movement - a mixture of education initiatives and radical renutrition campaigns - that came to impact Breadminster's census deep into the new millennium.
Being a pseudo-archipelago Breadminster has fundamentally limited resources, however deep-seated ties to distant coastal villages meant that oysters were a regular part of the local diet. K'houldoux pinpointed this as a factor in the town's overpopulation, and believed that simply replacing these with clams (a “lesser mollusk”) would help lower the erotic urges of the people. It was his “anti-aphrodesia” movement that first championed the idea of “Clams As A Main Meal,” and the slogan “Consider Abstinence” carried the message yet further.
The Breadminster Board of Abstinence soon became involved in all cultural happenings in the area, with K'houldoux MCing at prominent festivals and performances, sometimes dressed as the “Looming Moon of Desire” - an idea of his relating to the tide, seafood, menstrual cycles, and his privately held celestial predilections.
It was in 1981 that it was revealed Dr. K'houldoux had never fully qualified as a doctor and was seeking exile in Breadminster due to a series of botched bracelet heists in which he had previously been involved. K'houldoux was subsequently extradited to Basingstoke, where he served 3 of a 12-year sentence, owing to the lunar-oriented prisoner health campaigns he helped implement.
It has been a strange twist of bureaucratic fate that the Breadminster Board of Abstinence has never stopped receiving public funding, despite its lack of clear utility. And while its roots are tied to a rose-tinted past, the Board continues to sponsor cultural events and projects to this day.
An extract from: Eugeniq Schooner's article in Sydney Parishioner: “Clams, Breadminster and Countercultural Abstinence Trends” (2008)
