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Utopia is a tale of juxtaposition. On one hand, the music paints an idyllic and dynamic soundscape. Lead single "Højder" springs with bright, twinkling keys - part wurlitzer, part piano - balanced by a warm, sauntering bassline that has the feel of a tango. Others, like "Tusmørke" lean more into the jazz lane, a sultry nighttime tune sizzling with violins and dubbed out keys.
On the other hand, Utopia was by no means made under ideal circumstances. The duo battled constant technical difficulties - exploding reel-to-reel machines, a mixing board that constantly broke down - as if haunted by the malfunctioning gear. On top of that, Bremer was going through a divorce, which made recording a struggle at times.
Nonetheless, Utopia encapsulates what Bremer/McCoy do best: kaleidoscopic instrumental music, touching a multiverse of genre that evokes passion and promotes contemplation from the listener.
"Selected Ambient Works 85-92" is one of those rare albums where a composer provides clear evidence that he or she is in that special class of artistic genius where true originality is possible. I'm not suggesting that this is Aphex Twin's best album, as best work was yet to come; nor am I suggesting that this is one of the greatest electronic albums of all time. Perhaps it is, but the key is its influence. "SAW" is practically synonymous with that early Warp Records sound (although SAW wasn't actually released on Warp). The album is one of the sacred texts of the Intelligent Dance Music (IDM) movement and on this disc, you can hear the ideas that helped make electronic music what it is today. "SAW" dates back to a time when Aphex Twin was using a lot of analogue gear and the tracks have a nice warmth to them. Many of the sounds on this album will already be familiar to most listeners since they entered the canon of electronic sounds long ago. The cool thing is, this album is where so much began.
currently the rediscovery of long forgotten japanese electronic, jazz and new age music is at a peak like never before. but although many re-issues already flood the record stores around the world: the large, diverse musical culture of japan still got some gems in store that are really missing.
for example, it is still quiet around the the work of japanese bass player, new-age and ambient musi-cian motohiko hamase. when the today 66-years old artist started to be a professional musician in the 1970’s, he quickly gained success as a versed studio instrumentalist and started to be part of the great modern jazz isao suzuki sextett, where he played with legends like pianist tsuyoshi yamamoto or fu-sion guitar one-off-a-kind kazumi watanabe.
he also was around in the studio when legendary japanese jazz records like “straight ahead” of takao uematsu, “moritato for osada” of jazz singer minami yasuda or “moon stone” of synthesizer, piano and organ wizard mikio masuda been recorded.
in the 1980’s hamase began to slowly drift away from jazz and drowned himself and his musical vision into new-age, ambient and experimental electronic spheres, in which he incorporated his funky medi-tative way of playing the bass above airy sounds and arrangements.
his first solo album “intaglio” was not only a milestone of japanese new-age ambient, it was also fresh sonic journey in jazz that does not sound like jazz at all. now studio mule is happy to announce the re-recording of his gem from 1986, that opens new doors of perception while being not quite at all.
first issued by the japanese label shi zen, the record had a decent success in japan and by some overseas fans of music from the far east. with seven haunting, stylistically hard to pigeonhole compo-sitions hamase drifts around new-age worlds with howling wind sounds, gently bass picking and dis-creet drums, that sometimes remind the listener on the power of japanese taiko percussions. also, propulsive fourth-world-grooves call the tune and all composition avoid a foreseeable structure. at large his albums seem to be improvised and yet all is deeply composed.
music that works like shuffling through an imaginary sound library full of spiritual deepness, that even spreads in its shaky moments some profound relaxing moods. a true discovery of old music that oper-ates deeply contemporary due to his exploratory spirit and gently played tones. the release marks another highlight in studio mule’s fresh mission to excavate neglected japanese music, that somehow has more to offer in present age, than at the time of his original birth.
currently the rediscovery of long forgotten japanese electronic, jazz and new age music is at a peak like never before. but although many re-issues already flood the record stores around the world: the large, diverse musical culture of japan still got some gems in store that are really missing.
for example, it is still quiet around the the work of japanese bass player, new-age and ambient musi-cian motohiko hamase. when the today 66-years old artist started to be a professional musician in the 1970’s, he quickly gained success as a versed studio instrumentalist and started to be part of the great modern jazz isao suzuki sextett, where he played with legends like pianist tsuyoshi yamamoto or fu-sion guitar one-off-a-kind kazumi watanabe.
he also was around in the studio when legendary japanese jazz records like “straight ahead” of takao uematsu, “moritato for osada” of jazz singer minami yasuda or “moon stone” of synthesizer, piano and organ wizard mikio masuda been recorded.
in the 1980’s hamase began to slowly drift away from jazz and drowned himself and his musical vision into new-age, ambient and experimental electronic spheres, in which he incorporated his funky medi-tative way of playing the bass above airy sounds and arrangements.
his first solo album “intaglio” was not only a milestone of japanese new-age ambient, it was also fresh sonic journey in jazz that does not sound like jazz at all. now studio mule is happy to announce the re-recording of his gem from 1986, that opens new doors of perception while being not quite at all.
first issued by the japanese label shi zen, the record had a decent success in japan and by some overseas fans of music from the far east. with seven haunting, stylistically hard to pigeonhole compo-sitions hamase drifts around new-age worlds with howling wind sounds, gently bass picking and dis-creet drums, that sometimes remind the listener on the power of japanese taiko percussions. also, propulsive fourth-world-grooves call the tune and all composition avoid a foreseeable structure. at large his albums seem to be improvised and yet all is deeply composed.
music that works like shuffling through an imaginary sound library full of spiritual deepness, that even spreads in its shaky moments some profound relaxing moods. a true discovery of old music that oper-ates deeply contemporary due to his exploratory spirit and gently played tones. the release marks another highlight in studio mule’s fresh mission to excavate neglected japanese music, that somehow has more to offer in present age, than at the time of his original birth.
The terms “nursery rhymes” and “children’s songs” may give rise to visions of idyllic innocence and the charms of childhood, but "Play Nursery Rhymes and Children's Songs" by Tokiyo Ooto & Orhythmo, their first release on EM Records, brings forth quite different aural imagery: this is an eerie and unsettling sonic picture book which hints at the darkness and mystery which form the hidden heart of many traditional songs and rhymes. The length of the songs provides a hint: each piece delves deeply into the latent uncanniness of the music, with superficial innocence gradually displaced as electric guitar, bass, field recordings and concrete sounds draw the listener into a chilly forest, while Tokiyo Ooto’s voice croons dark “lullabies for adults,” blending elements of folk, slowcore and dream pop. The Tokiyo Ooto & Orhythmo duo formed in 2023, releasing their first album in 2024. This release updates two pieces from the first album, and also includes a traditional Japanese children’s song from Shiga Prefecture and a masterpiece for children by composer Yasushi Akutagawa. Both musicians are Osaka-based: Otoo is a guitarist and singer-songwriter who also works in band and solo contexts; Orhythmo is a bassist with hardcore punk roots who focuses on improvisation, drone, noise and ambient sound. This release is available on CD, vinyl and DL; physical versions feature a printed insert with Japanese and English lyrics. The evocative cover is by Yoshitomo Ano.
The terms “nursery rhymes” and “children’s songs” may give rise to visions of idyllic innocence and the charms of childhood, but "Play Nursery Rhymes and Children's Songs" by Tokiyo Ooto & Orhythmo, their first release on EM Records, brings forth quite different aural imagery: this is an eerie and unsettling sonic picture book which hints at the darkness and mystery which form the hidden heart of many traditional songs and rhymes. The length of the songs provides a hint: each piece delves deeply into the latent uncanniness of the music, with superficial innocence gradually displaced as electric guitar, bass, field recordings and concrete sounds draw the listener into a chilly forest, while Tokiyo Ooto’s voice croons dark “lullabies for adults,” blending elements of folk, slowcore and dream pop. The Tokiyo Ooto & Orhythmo duo formed in 2023, releasing their first album in 2024. This release updates two pieces from the first album, and also includes a traditional Japanese children’s song from Shiga Prefecture and a masterpiece for children by composer Yasushi Akutagawa. Both musicians are Osaka-based: Otoo is a guitarist and singer-songwriter who also works in band and solo contexts; Orhythmo is a bassist with hardcore punk roots who focuses on improvisation, drone, noise and ambient sound. This release is available on CD, vinyl and DL; physical versions feature a printed insert with Japanese and English lyrics. The evocative cover is by Yoshitomo Ano.
Modern Obscure Music presents The Bubble of Love, a new collaborative album by Pedro Vian together with Ustad Nawab Khan and Naved Nawab Khan — the 9th and 10th generation of a distinguished santoor lineage from Rajasthan, India. Recorded during an intense week of sessions at Pedro Vian’s studio in Barcelona, the album captures a rare and concentrated encounter between traditions, generations, and sonic languages. Ustad Nawab Khan, a 9th-generation master of the santoor and founder of Raaga Science, has devoted his life to exploring the emotional and psychological dimensions of Indian raaga music. His philosophy, “Raag se Ras utpan” — the creation of emotional states through specific raagas — forms a conceptual backbone for the project. Carrying the lineage forward, Naved Nawab Khan represents the 10th generation, bringing a contemporary global awareness while remaining deeply rooted in classical tradition. The Bubble of Love unfolds through four meditations that create a dialogue between ancient tonal systems and modern electronic exploration. In three of the four pieces, the chromatic subtleties and traditional scales of the santoor intertwine with Pedro Vian’s unexpected synthesizers and electronic textures. These compositions form a bridge between Occidental and Oriental musical worlds, where resonance becomes a shared language. In the fourth and final meditation, the collaboration shifts toward a more experimental dimension. While maintaining the same instrumental foundation — santoor and electronics — Pedro Vian explores alternative notes and scale structures, expanding the harmonic field. This movement reflects both understanding and incomprehension, alignment and tension between cultures. Rather than resolving differences, the music inhabits them, transforming contrast into a space of discovery. Released on Modern Obscure Music, The Bubble of Love is not merely a fusion record. It is a concentrated meeting point — lineage and futurism, discipline and experimentation — crystallized in a week of deep listening and creative exchange within an intimate studio environment. At moments, the record subtly echoes earlier attempts to translate ancient traditions through emerging technologies. It recalls the spirit of experimentation found in projects where Moog synthesis sought to interpret the tonal worlds of classical instruments — from the dialogues between Ravi Shankar and Philip Glass, to the exploratory journeys of Ariel Kalma, whose music continues to resonate powerfully in the very walls where this album was recorded. In this broader historical context, The Bubble of Love also resonates with the pioneering electronic explorations documented in The NID Tapes — the collection of early Indian electronic works recorded between 1969 and 1972 at the National Institute of Design in Ahmedabad. Founded with the support of composer David Tudor, who installed a Moog modular system in 1969, the NID studio became a radical space of post-independence experimentation, where composers such as Gita Sarabhai, I.S. Mathur, Atul Desai, S.C. Sharma and Jinraj Joshipura explored analogue synthesis, tape collage, voice and field recording — forging a meeting point between Western and Indian avant-garde traditions. Uncovered and restored through the long-term research of British artist Paul Purgas, and later presented alongside the publication Subcontinental Synthesis: Electronic Music at the National Institute of Design, India 1969–1972, The NID Tapes revealed a visionary chapter in South Asia’s sonic imagination — one where electronic instruments did not replace tradition, but refracted it into new forms. While separated by decades and geography, The Bubble of Love inhabits a similar philosophical terrain: not the fusion of opposites, but the coexistence of lineages — where electronic sound becomes not an imposition, but a listening device. A way of approaching tradition with curiosity rather than control. In this sense, the album stands both as a continuation and a renewal — a contemporary meditation on the enduring dialogue between heritage and experimentation, between memory and future sound.
Swiss unarchivers WRWTFWW give vinyl wings to a cult, 1999 Japan suite of jazz-spurred techno and shine-eyed electronica balanced between Warp’s AI comps and A.R.T.’s future jazz styles A lot of Japan-o-philes will be made-up to see this one on wax after more than a quarter century as a CD only curio and, since ’22, on download formats. All the material is duly given room to breath over 2LP, spinning the ‘Bug in the Bassbin’-era Carl Craig vibes of Missing Project’s ‘Poisson D’avril (Da’ Future Given a Deep Soul Mix)’, thru it soaring ‘Galaxy Dub’, via chunky house wigglers from Virgo, a slow-rolling groove by Tensor, early Black Dog feels in Penance’s ‘Cure of Soul (Fossil Mix), and low-slung trip by Led-M.
A collection of ten hypnotic guitar renditions that dive deeply into the traditional compositional musicality that underpins Harakami’s hallucinatory beatscapes before reconsidering them under a fresh, innovative and engaging new light. River: The Timbre of Guitar #2 Rei Harakami signals a new level of awareness and understanding of both Rei Harakami’s significance and Ayane Shino’s undeniable talent.
あまりにも嬉しい〈Efficient Space〉からの奇跡のリプレス！オーストラリアに沸く現代ニューエイジの屈指の泉、Andras Fox = Andrew Wilsonが描くやすらぎ盤の第2章...
本作はAndrew "Wilson" 1人だけでなく、Not Not Funからデビューしたヴェイパーウェイヴ & AORの哀愁インスト紳士、あのEleventeen Eston = John "Tanner"とのプロジェクトです! メルボルンとパースの海辺や夕陽、都市の街なみをバックに想い想いのダンスでアンビエントなたけを演奏してきた彼ら。今作はその想い想いな部分が小さく小さく、空気やムードなレベルにまでおだやかに、しかしこれまでになく色濃い境地にまで達してます。Tannerのクラリネット、Wilsonのシンセが舞うA1 "Sun Room"からしてどうしましょう...
グラフィックと音楽が同じ土台でむすびつく、オーストラリアならではのアートワークもすばらしい。Emotional RescueやPalto Flats、Music From Memoryがそうしたように、数十年たっても語り継がれてほしいアンビエントの傑作です。
Damian Dalla Torre returns with People Pleaser, a record shaped by movement, collaboration and an ever-deepening relationship with sound as environment. The Leipzig-based multi-instrumentalist, composer and producer first found wide attention with his 2022 debut Happy Floating, and his subsequent album I Can Feel My Dreams was named the #1 Contemporary Album of 2024 by The Guardian, an accolade that broadened his audience and deepened confidence in his evolving voice. That second album, written between Europe and South America, opened unexpected doors and took Dalla Torre to stages across New York, Japan and Italy. “When you release music, it’s very intimate,” he reflects. “You show your emotions pretty raw. I was kind of scared. But getting so much positive feedback gave me a lot of self-confidence to try out more.” People Pleaser begins in that quiet shift of confidence. The title stayed with him for months before he committed to it. “It was a working title for a long time,” he says. “I didn’t actually think I would use it. But this term also felt somehow relevant in connection with the phase of self-negotiation during the development process. Some aspects are related to pressure, others are positive.” The ambiguity felt right. Rather than presenting it as a statement, Dalla Torre leaves it open, an invitation rather than a confession. At the centre of People Pleaser is collaboration. Guitarist Bertram Burkert, whose playing stretches from classical delicacy to electric abstraction, joined Dalla Torre in the studio for an intensive three-day session, recording a wide palette of textures that would become the backbone of the album. Vocalist Laura Zöschg, a key live collaborator, harpist Babett Niclas, organist Felix Römer, tape experimentalist Markus Rom, marimba and vibraphonist Volker Heuken and Japanese artist Manami Kakudo also contribute, creating a sound that feels intimate yet expansive.
Initially conceived as a short-run cassette for Altered States Tapes, YL Hooi’s nameless collection of textural apparitions oscillate between icy DIY minimalism, FX-drenched atmospherics and nang chamber dub. A ghost-like transmission, Hooi's voice serves to anchor an array of sonic abstractions and impressionistic melodic motifs as a sense of purgatorial ambience dominates throughout. Co-produced with alleged fellow Kallista Kult member Tarquin Manek (LST, M. Quake), Untitled’s ultimate sensation is its halfway state, as if caught between worlds. The album's final form speaks of its origins, recorded intermittently over a two year period (2017-2019). The extended time passage seeps into the song structures, spiralling and mutating from the same centre - the elegiac pulse of opener 'Title' presages the hymnal lilt of 'Straight Thru', before birthing the inverted bossa nova of 'W/O Love'. The result is a constantly shifting tableaux of shared liminal spaces. These songs seemingly emerge in plumes of smoke, magician's tricks conjured from the ether. It's a vision that ossifies at Untitled's midpoint with a cover of Love Joys' 'Stranger', the lovers rock original morphed into the transportive intimacy of Hooi's own hazy inner space, a totem of the LP’s amorphous and ultimately sensuous qualities. The sound from both down under and way out there in subspace, Untitled is an inspired masterstroke of experimental mystics. This 2021 Efficient Space edition is remastered and robed in new artwork that honours the Melbourne-based earth dragon’s Chinese and Russian heritage.
Yara Asmar’s new album, “everyone I love is sleeping and I love them so so much”, presents 11 pieces recorded over the past year between the small town of Alfred in upstate New York and Beirut. These sometimes fragile and tentative sound sketches reflect the times as Yara steps out, as if onto ice, into a new life on a new continent. She works with unfamiliar instruments, new materials and new sounds to build on her intimate style; homemade mechanical music boxes and a personal archive of family recordings form the backbone of its delicate textures. Asmar explores the peculiar resonance of the metallophone and her collection of deconstructed toy pianos, and guides her music into ever more surreal territories. The result is a work that is dreamlike, fragmentary and strangely timeless.
Sooj — a collaborative project between members of Duster and Dirty Art Club. Picking up where their 2024 two-sider Anhedonia II b/w Ecstasy Cowgirl left off, Crusher sees Duster’s slowcore drift dissolve into Dirty Art Club’s sample-heavy, collage-minded production. The result is neither band, nor side project, but something more elusive — a third space built from tape hiss, chopped memory, and late-night signal bleed. Across its runtime, the album avoids the gravitational pull of nostalgia. Instead, it hovers in a liminal present — part collaboration, part escape route.
アルバムについて Following the jazzy library vibes of 2023’s collaborative Dolphin LP with Greg Foat and Moses Boyd, the venetian maestro Gigi Masin returns to the ambience for which he is renowned, with Movement - his first solo full-length since 2020’s Calypso, and his Sacred Bones Records debut. Fuelled by creative reinvention and rhythmic motion, he moves seamlessly between melancholy electronic notes, technoid robotics, groovy liminal cloudscapes, and fathoms-deep ambient aquatics. Since early beginnings in obscurity, his 1986 debut album Wind slowly built an organic following on late night radio, later bolstered when “Clouds” was sampled by artists like Björk, Post Malone, and more. He now counts Oneohtrix Point Never, Devendra Banhart, Caroline Polachek, and the late Kenny Wheeler as fans. The new album Movement reflects on Masin’s place within the pantheon of ambient masters, his ongoing artistic ambitions, and his aspirations for a scene which he’s seen grow exponentially from humble beginnings. The LP is also an ode to literal movement, both in nature, and in human physical expressions to sound. Masin strived to make ambient music for movement, not in the standard dance music sense, but “dynamic music, with a beating heart full of love.” Reconfiguring ambient’s association with solitary listening and cold academia, Gigi went outwards, channeling something somatic that connects with the body, not just the mind. “Bed on Mars” sets the titular tone for Masin’s renewed curiosity, with cosmic atmospherics evoking the sensation of waking up on a new planet unafraid, whilst the poignant synthesized trumpet and suspended liminal limbo of “Lost” feels like floating adrift in an unknown sea. Delving further into off-centre beats is the celestial techno funk of “Deception Dance,” which sounds like Sun Electric jamming with Carl Craig and Kraftwerk. The bright beaming light of “Golden” radiates warmth, sounding like the bossa nova brother of Göttsching’s Balearic classic E2 E4. Despite the passing of his wife after a long illness, and losing his musical archive in a flood, Gigi remains pure-at-heart and positive, pouring his soul into the pursuit of beauty. The latest in a slow starting but steadily building career, Movement sees Masin continue to secure his seat at the table of true ambient greats.
In the mid-1970s, a force of nature swept across the continental United States, cutting across all strata of race and class, rooting in our minds, our homes, our culture. It wasn’t The Exorcist, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, or even bell-bottoms, but instead a book called The Secret Life of Plants. The work of occultist/former OSS agent Peter Tompkins and former CIA agent/dowsing enthusiast Christopher Bird, the books shot up the bestseller charts and spread like kudzu across the landscape, becoming a phenomenon. Seemingly overnight, the indoor plant business was in full bloom and photosynthetic eukaryotes of every genus were hanging off walls, lording over bookshelves, and basking on sunny window ledges. The science behind Secret Life was specious: plants can hear our prayers, they’re lie detectors, they’re telepathic, able to predict natural disasters and receive signals from distant galaxies. But that didn’t stop millions from buying and nurturing their new plants.
Perhaps the craziest claim of the book was that plants also dug music. And whether you purchased a snake plant, asparagus fern, peace lily, or what have you from Mother Earth on Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles (or bought a Simmons mattress from Sears), you also took home Plantasia, an album recorded especially for them. Subtitled “warm earth music for plants…and the people that love them,” it was full of bucolic, charming, stoner-friendly, decidedly unscientific tunes enacted on the new-fangled device called the Moog. Plants date back from the dawn of time, but apparently they loved the Moog, never mind that the synthesizer had been on the market for just a few years. Most of all, the plants loved the ditties made by composer Mort Garson.
Few characters in early electronic music can be both fearless pioneers and cheesy trend-chasers, but Garson embraced both extremes, and has been unheralded as a result. When one writer rhetorically asked: “How was Garson’s music so ubiquitous while the man remained so under the radar?” the answer was simple. Well before Brian Eno did it, Garson was making discreet music, both the man and his music as inconspicuous as a Chlorophytum comosum. Julliard-educated and active as a session player in the post-war era, Garson wrote lounge hits, scored plush arrangements for Doris Day, and garlanded weeping countrypolitan strings around Glen Campbell’s “By the Time I Get to Phoenix.” He could render the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel alike into easy listening and also dreamed up his own ditties. “An idear” as Garson himself would drawl it out. “I live with it, I walk it, I sing it.”
But as his daughter Day Darmet recalls: “When my dad found the synthesizer, he realized he didn’t want to do pop music anymore.” Garson encountered Robert Moog and his new device at the Audio Engineering Society’s West Coast convention in 1967 and immediately began tinkering with the device. With the Moog, those idears could be transformed. “He constantly had a song he was humming,” Darmet says. “At the table he was constantly tapping.” Which is to say that Mort pulled his melodies out of thin air, just like any household plant would.
The Plantae kingdom grew to its height by 1976, from DC Comics’ mossy superhero Swamp Thing to Stevie Wonder’s own herbal meditation, Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants. Nefarious manifestations of human-plant interaction also abounded, be it the grotesque pods in Invasion of the Body Snatchers or the pothead paranoia of the US Government spraying Mexican marijuana fields with the herbicide paraquat (which led to the rise in homegrown pot by the 1980s). And then there’s the warm, leafy embrace of Plantasia itself.
“My mom had a lot of plants,” Darmet says. “She didn’t believe in organized religion, she believed the earth was the best thing in the whole world. Whatever created us was incredible.” And she also knew when her husband had a good song, shouting from another room when she heard him humming a good idear. Novel as it might seem, Plantasia is simply full of good tunes.
Garson may have given the album away to new plant and bed owners, but a decade later a new generation could hear his music in another surreptitious way. Millions of kids bought The Legend of Zelda for their Nintendo Entertainment System back in 1986 and one distinct 8-bit tune bears more than a passing resemblance to album highlight “Concerto for Philodendron and Pothos.” Garson was never properly credited for it, but he nevertheless subliminally slipped into a new generations’ head, helping kids and plants alike grow.
Hearing Plantasia in the 21st century, it seems less an ode to our photosynthesizing friends by Garson and more an homage to his wife, the one with the green thumb that made everything flower around him. “My dad would be totally pleased to know that people are really interested in this music that had no popularity at the time,” Darmet says of Plantasia’s new renaissance. “He would be fascinated by the fact that people are finally understanding and appreciating this part of his musical career that he got no admiration for back then.” Garson seems to be everywhere again, even if he’s not really noticed, just like a houseplant.
-Andy Beta
Roping in Pierre Bastien and Mark Cunningham to provide brass, Mike Cooper turns in his most kaleidoscopic fourth world dream sequence to date, drawing on dub and exotica to harmonise with Andrew Pekler's marooned soundscapes... Cooper admits in the liner notes that although he's often compared with Jon Hassell, it's German painter Mati Klarwein fantastical album covers that always reminded him exactly why he was doing what he was doing. Because Cooper makes music for imaginary places, not tangible soundtracks but half dreamed, half lived experiences that course through his catalog of experiments. And his process has never been quite so vivid as it is on 'Stochastic Parrot', a suite of vertiginous reverberations that are struck through with Cooper's "real and virtual" lap steel twangs, collaged together from samples and field recordings that wobble like heat haze. Different pockets of rhythm bash into each other on 'ARCHAEOPTERYX', accompanied by Bastien and Cunningham's spiraling brass improvisations. And Cooper holds the sounds together with his lulling repeated phrases; the hand drums might sound as if they're in conflict with the cycling drum machine crashes, but that's the point - it's not like channeling a dream so much as it's like being subjected to three or four dreams simultaneously. It's the ghosts of jazz fusion being raked over coals at midnight: just tune into 'SUMATRA SAMPHIRE', with its distant animalistic wails and popcorn drums, or the granulized 'HAT YAI', that sounds like the prelude to a druggy ritual.
Room 40's J.WLSN returns to Lawrence English's label flanked by his old mate Liam Keenan with a haze of guitars, synths and samples that evokes the rugged, beautiful landscape of New South Wales. Wilson and Keenan had been working together at an art museum in Sydney for some time when they finally decided to book a session at a local studio. It didn't take long either; working with their mutual friend David Akerman, they laid down a set of peaceful longform jams that appeared as they reminisced about different stretches of time in the area where they both grew up. Finding the shared similarities and differences, the music appeared as a soundtrack. On the four-part 'Teflon Blues', their hazy recollections buried beneath a fog of blurry instrumentation, while on the generous centerpiece 'The Power of Emptiness' they're obscured by gusts of white noise that seem to erode the duo's humming guitar tones. The album concludes with the three act 'Suburban Dopamine', a tape loop symphony that builds so slowly you don't even notice it coming. Eventually, the muggy, ferric guitars are interrupted by crystal clear plucks that roll across the duo's sonic landscape like tumbleweed.
“Ruins are the style of our future cities, future cities are themselves ruins.” - Izosaki Arata A Note From Lawrence English Nostalgia is not an ideology, though in this moment, we could be mistaken for thinking it might be just that. Over the past years, the idea of nostalgia has been filtered through various political and technological lenses and has become a tool used for forgetting, rather than remembering. Instead of embracing histories’ complexities and inconsistencies, this version of nostalgia seeks only singular recollection. This contemporary phenomenon of nostalgia has become a methodology at best, and a weapon at worst, used to erode the past and project forward a collapsed and unimaginably sanitised version of things, places, and ways of being from former times. It’s this projection that sees it playing a mounting role in a social pathology associated with reducing the imagined possibilities of future. The Rest Is My Ghost is a record that interrogates the manifestations of this reductive futuring and celebrates those that have tried (and failed), and those who continue to push back against decayed and revisionist positions. It’s a record that considers the weaponisation of nostalgia for the purposes of cloaking possible futures. In recent times, I’ve proposed a term for this weaponised use of nostalgia, something I have called Acid Nostalgia. I offer it as a shorthand to describe the de-contouring of the future through a corrosive fixation on a flatten rendering of the preceding times. It is, in part, a certain type of lazy cultural scripting where tropes of the past are presented in the absolute, as empty pictorials; photocopies without any original from which to draw actual meaning, or useful detail. Acid Nostalgia describes an increasingly common political projection of nostalgia that exists without any subjective connection to the memory surrounding and contained within it. Like acid poured onto a surface, this use of nostalgia seeks to erodes and smooth out the complexity and texture of lived connection and longing, which has until recently guided contemplations of nostalgia. Acid Nostalgia instead erases the texture of histories and de-contours the past, and in doing so dematerialises the horizon of possibility, which by its very nature marks the beginning point for any (and all) imaginable futures. Acid Nostalgia is a dreamless screen, where uncertainty, restlessness and aspiration are subjected to corrosion, breaking down and neutralising the wellspring of futures which are birthed from within the ambiguously charged, complex and at times chaotic atmospheres of the present. The Rest Is My Ghost is not however some universal reading of these things and happenings. Rather it draws its breath from a very personal pathway carved through my own fraught experiences of nostalgia and framed through a disparate collage of chance encounters, situations, places and provocations. It takes oblique notes from civic and architectural references such as Japan’s Metabolist movement, Hong Kong’s ‘one line sky’ and Los Angeles’s vanished Sodium Vapour lights. It interpolates texts – factual and fictional – by authors such as Franco Berardi, Kate Crawford, JG Ballard, Katsuhiro Otomo, Mark Fisher and Alexei Yurchak who have each so wonderfully sought to rupture the familiarity of now, and push us towards other ways of imaging ourselves, our surroundings and our very ways of being in this world. I also owe a debt of thanks to Adam Curtis in helping launch what has become this edition. It was his provocation, in a conversation we shared about an overwhelming and profound sense of uncertainty around being able to predict the immediate future and how to respond to that, which sparked the earliest inklings of this edition. The Rest Is My Ghost is ultimately a record about the promise of constructions and connections to come, material, social and political. It's a record that accepts the fragility of failure as a source of ultimate potential, and a position from which the deepest freedom of imagination might be sought and summoned forth to conjure even the most unimaginable, (but) possible futures.