MUSIC

‘ИМА (Ima)’ is a work by KiMiMi, the solo project of a musician Shin-ya Ohno, which captures the layers of time and the presence of people inhabiting ‘Arimasuton Building’—a self-built structure created over 20 years by architect Keisuke Oka, located in Mita, Tokyo, and reconstructs them into music. A multi-instrumentalist who masterfully handles a diverse range of instruments, with the gaida (an ancestor of the bagpipes) – which he studied in Bulgaria – at the core of his sound, KiMiMi has previously brought traces of daily life and folk melodies recorded during his travels back to the scale of home recording, weaving fantastical folk soundscapes through cassette tape works and stage music. Alongside his musical activities, he has participated in the construction work for ‘Arimasuton Building’, recording the sounds of hammers and steel beams echoing on site, lunchtime chatter, the melodies of instruments played by others, and the sound of cars passing by. From the end of 2022, a zine titled ‘Monthly Arimasuton Building Urimasu’, based on this construction project, was launched. KiMiMi incorporates these recordings into the musical works he contributes to each issue, layering sounds from live instruments—including the gaida, accordion, guitar, flute, ukulele, piano, foot-pump organ, melodica and xylophone—alongside a few synthesiser tones, to shape a soundscape imbued with the humidity and breath of the site. KiMiMi’s creative process is characterised not by planned construction, but by an attitude of entrusting the work to chance, intuition and the passage of time. Fragmented recordings are layered, set aside for a time, and then unearthed again. Through this repetition, the music naturally takes shape. This resonates perfectly with the process of ‘Arimasuton Building’, which was built up improvisationally, layer by layer, without any pre-prepared blueprints. ‘ИМА (Ima)’ marks the current stage of KiMiMi’s sonic journey and represents an attempt to gracefully transcend the boundaries between architecture and music, documentation and creation, and the individual and the community. The clamour of the city, the tranquillity of manual labour, laughter, and every sound resonating at the Arimasuton Building site blend with KiMiMi’s music, reflecting the very passage of time in which people live.

This is a collaborative work by Kodo’s Masayasu Maeda and Hida Onkyo Ha, featuring selected extracts from a four-hour improv session in Hida Takayama, up in Japan’s northern Alps. It captures waves of electronics, voices, taiko (Japanese drums), gongs, and other instruments as the sounds enter, entwine, and meld in the mountain air. The title ‘On-myaku Kyo-myaku’ evokes sounds (on) and echoes (kyo) that undulate like a pulse (myaku). Layering upon one another, over and over, conjuring reverberations, rhythms, ambient sound, noise, and moments that are tribal, spacey, and intoxicating. Lean into the sways and flutters of fleeting, pulsating, resonant sound.

*100 copies limited edition* "Music, like love, surprises you, makes your heart race, gives you new eyes with which to look at yourself in the mirror..." - Gigi Masin With an exclusive presentation by Gigi Masin, Up To 23 release their second album, now with an expanded three-member lineup following the permanent addition of Enrico Coniglio alongside founder members Marco Buffetti and Francesco Fincato. The album draws inspiration from the 1980s, evoking atmospheres reminiscent of sci-fi soundtracks. Partly romantic, partly doom ambient, the work unfolds as a requiem for our planet. Liquid and enveloping atmospheres drift between ambient territories with a distinctly melodic character - explored through treated guitars and synthesizers - and subtly electronic paths traced to the rhythm of patterns built through sequencers and programmed structures. Dramatic and evocative moments emerge throughout this succession of varied yet perfectly integrated and fluid soundscapes, where sounds and progressions combine with ever-shifting solutions, following a descriptive thread that remains consistent as it continuously unravels through encompassing and emotionally engaging textures. "Gigi Masin Presents: An Apple A Day You Die Anyway" is the perfect soundtrack to these dark times that Up To 23 want to color in order to continue to hope, to live without having to survive.

Six touching tracks that, starting from quiet ambient atmospheres, initially soft, tenuous, and crepuscular, gradually seem to soar... ascending towards celestial spaces, revealing ever-wider and brighter landscapes below, ever-more distant horizons, ever-more infinite spaces... Highly evocative progressions, guided by sober and delicate melodies and driving, pulsating bass lines, wonderfully deep (best enjoyed with a good stereo system to truly appreciate them), the kind that make your stomach churn before you even perceive the exact frequency and harmonic progression, often "set" in restrained rhythmic patterns that mark the time, making a sonic journey even more dynamic and compelling. If it doesn't surprise you, it's probably only because you've already had the opportunity to explore and "plumb" FABIO ORSI's most recent discography, and are already accustomed to the best of what this new wave of distinctly electronic but ambient-inspired music has to offer.

Rod Modell returns with Frequencies In The Fog, a deeply immersive work built from minimal structures, patient motion and finely judged restraint. Pads, discreet electronic details and slow, enveloping bass lines form the core, while distant, treated voices and subtle textural creaks surface like echoes caught in mist.

The music unfolds in gentle cycles, where circular movement alternates with moments of liquid stasis and near-silence. Sounds appear and recede without warning, revealing fleeting impressions of place before dissolving again into a shifting haze. There is a sense of suspension throughout — as if the listener is drifting through intangible terrain, guided more by atmosphere than direction.

As with much of Modell’s work, the power lies in the details: the careful balance between density and space, the tension between motion and stillness, and the way each element feels inseparable from the whole. Frequencies In The Fog invites deep listening, rewarding patience with a quietly absorbing journey through blurred environments and half-remembered forms.

Winding through cavernous passages of sound, Rod Modell builds a patient, tactile world shaped by low-end pulsations, drifting electronics and finely observed environmental detail. Gurgling currents, rustling textures and crystalline drips move in and out of focus, giving way to heavier sound masses before opening onto unexpectedly calm, almost soothing spaces.

What appears abstract at first gradually reveals a strong emotional pull. Modell’s control of dynamics and pacing allows small shifts in tone and texture to carry real weight, with moments of darkness offset by sudden glimmers of light and stillness. Electronic spirals rise and dissolve, while quieter passages create a sense of suspension, as if time has briefly slowed.

The result is a deeply considered listening experience that rewards attention. Every nuance feels deliberate, each detail contributing to a broader sense of tension, release and atmosphere. Rather than overwhelming, the music draws the listener inward, balancing restraint and drama in a way that feels both immersive and quietly affecting.

The second compilation of FORM@ RECORDS. Although this work hasn't decided on a particular direction, it's a wonderful album that naturally gathers pure things and far surpasses the previous work.

Following Virgo's Landform Code and Remnants, we're happy to continue our collaboration with with FORM@T RECORDS.

Various Artists

Art Form I

Limited Edition Double LP.

First ever vinyl release of the unheralded classic compilation from 1997.

From the vaults of cult Japanese label FORM@ RECORDS.

A fascinating dive into Tokyo’s electronic music underground of the late 90s - timeless and unique IDM, techno, ambient, acid.

For fans of Warp’s Artificial Intelligence series, Ken Ishii, Carl Craig, B12, The Black Dog, deep electronic music, experimental soundscapes, time capsules of underground music movements.

Also available: Virgo albums Landform Code and Remnants, FORM@ compilations Art Form 2 and Re-Form Ver-1.0

In a sharp-angled, fiercely inventive reflection on the nature of club culture and digital fatigue, Simo Cell and Abdullah Miniawy reunite to deliver their new album, Dying is the internet, to Dekmantel's UFO series. French producer Simo Cell has blazed a singular path from his dubstep-influenced origins to become a leading light in contemporary leftfield club music, twisting up adventurous rhythms and flamboyant production in pursuit of a perpetual freshness for the floor. Egyptian singer, poet, producer and composer Abdullah Miniawy has become equally omnipresent in the past 10 years, straddling the arts world and leading with his piercing Arabic lyricism while maintaining an eternally curious spirit that leads into open-ended, experimental music from the abstract to the propulsive. Following up on their 2020 EP for BFDM, Kill Me Or Negotiate, Miniawy describes their sharply focused new album as "a playful prophecy about the triggers of a new global revolution." Cell considers the title, Dying is the internet, to be a mantra about "how the internet lost its soul," becoming "less about sharing ideas and more about surviving in a digital business ecosystem." Deliberately at odds with the reel-ready two-minute attention span of the average social media surfer (i.e. everyone), the pair set out to make an album that takes its time to reveal nuanced ideas and expressions. Rather than one-note despair for the modern malaise, Cell and Miniawy offer a philosophical reminder that this present moment in the human experience is a temporary phase, no matter how overwhelming it feels. Dying is the internet finds Miniawy experimenting with auto-tune across the record, while Cell has developed his voice design chops and compositional instincts, moving closer to fully realised song structures without losing the fundamental 'clubbiness' of each track. The result is a cohesive, wildly original kind of heavyweight dance music that slings out hooks left right and centre, from Miniawy's laconic trumpet looming through low-slung 'Reels in 360' and 'Travelling In BCC' to the persistent handclaps that bring 'Living Emojis' to life. Miniawy's poetry explores the power of insistent, repeated phrases in a break from his more typically structured form. Kenyan powerhouse Lord Spikeheart adds extra snarl to stripped-back, slow-burn opener 'I See The Stadium', but otherwise Dying is the internet is purely the work of Miniawy and Cell casting their considerable chops out into unexplored territory. The results are electric, bound together by a consistent economy of sound that burrows into a shroud of bass-heavy minimalism barely masking Cell's incredibly detailed studio flex. Even the beatless flourish of the Miniawy-produced 'Tear Chime' comes loaded with physicality — a sensory rush at the mid-section of the album bookended by some of the most idiosyncratic club music in recent memory. Both Simo Cell and Abdullah Miniawy have already proved themselves as fearless innovators across different fields. The strength of their partnership lies in their ability to make space for each other while letting their distinctive sonic identities ring loud and true. Dying is the internet has immediacy and physicality to translate over a soundsystem, but its intricacies are purpose-built for repeat visits and contemplation, unveiling hidden dimensions the deeper you dive into it.

“Certain albums hit like howling bullets at pivotal moments, tearing open the face of music to reveal hidden sonic muscles and fusing them back into something both strangely familiar and yet entirely unrecognisable. We believe this is one of those records.” The double album Death of Music delivers 16 crooked vocal pops, some ruthless, others unexpectedly disarming. In some songs, Ajukaja & Mart Avi function like a two-headed saurus swinging its spiky tail to shady pop-house smackers. In others, Ajukaja's serene organ licks descend into subterranean caverns, allowing Avi to float to the surface on their wavelengths and turn his voice into billions of extinct moths, enslaved by the moonlight’s pull. There are songs that face destruction and those that seek to prevent it. One kykeon rap goes, “If you die before you die, then when you die, you don't die!”. Ajukaja & Mart Avi have embraced this notion to create new music that allows them to thrive in the algorithmic wasteland. 13 years in the making, these 66 minutes are packed with lifetimes of truths you didn’t know you needed to know. They are Ajukaja & Mart Avi – two against death.

Lovers of Susumu Yokota’s mid-‘90s ‘Acid Mt. Fuji’ era will be licking their lips for this previously unheard ruck of slow-to-quicksilver acid and psychedelic techno trips par excellence, on David Fogarty’s retronaut label Transmigration.Salvaged from a set of DATs given the label by Ray Castle, who received them from the Japanese acid maestro circa 1994’s ‘AcidMt. Fuji’ and ‘Zen’ as Ebi, these eight gems have evidently lost none of their lustre over the last 30 years. They plug heads directly into a classic phase of acid, techno, and ambient experimentation whose durable results prevail to resonate contemporary ‘floors, and should be filed up there with sterling examples from Plastikman to Ø, AFX and Tin Man.For our ¥ the most choice cuts are the opening, slow storms of acid harnessing his Roland boxes to dreamiest traction, as with the 9 min meld of shoreside sounds, whining sine waves and chime trees that precipitate the creamiest slow acid in ‘Dust’, and again with the sexiest writhe in ‘Wave’, both acutely recalling Vladimir Ivkovic’s sets of decelerated Goa trance or the type of throwbacks conjured by Full Circle. But that’s not to discount the rest, which also impresses at higher velocities ready for full club flight. His ‘Obsession’ and ‘Thirteen’ surely hark to peak Analogue Bubblebath, and the clinically clean and spacious floatation device ‘Dove’ is a sure prototype for Tin Man decades down the line. Farther up the BPMs ‘No Way Back’ rides jabbing 303 and singing hi-hats at 135BPM, and ‘Fortune’ keeps the ticker up with urgent groove and chattering choral motif bound to get the yoghurt weavers going at 5am.

New "doom ambient" tape from Question Mark on Tax Free.

Seven years after their debut ‘Gulden Onversneden’, Klein Volk once again puts bread on the table with ‘In Weelde Verbrast’, a tribute to the important afterthoughts of everyday life in times of utter seriousness. Amidst the vestiges of things taken for granted, Klein Volk felt the need to take root and delicately tend to their kinds of whim and naïveté - all balanced out in a garden of opportunity, for seasons to come. Klein Volk is Marie Baeke, Timo Bonneure and Wesley Buysse.

In Osni the Flare, the second chapter of Tristan Allen's mythic trilogy, the composer, producer, and puppeteer follows a mortal’s transformation into deity through the discovery of fire. Recorded over four years using wordless vocals, organs, ocarinas, an arsenal of toy instruments, and intricate sound design, Osni the Flare unfolds the origins of flame and temporality across four acts. Weaving a creation myth that shifts between beauty, shadow, and wistful embers, Allen provides a portal to meticulously crafted, emotionally potent sound and story that echo through a fantastical realm.

Part of only a small and very much underground music scene in his hometown of Venice, Gigi Masin self released two modestly pressed LP's 'Wind' (1986) and 'Wind Collector' (1991) and appeared along side Charles Hayward for the Sub Rosa compilation LP "Les Nouvelles Musiques De Chambre Volume 2" (1988).

Having met with little commercial success in Italy at the time, Gigi Masin's solo albums remained for the most part totally unknown. His music has though in recent years, and seemingly by pure word of mouth, developed almost something of a cult following.

Gigi Masin's uniquely intricate and at times deeply emotive compositions take the listener into a realm of contemplation, a spellbound mind state where time and space appear to dissolve. His sparse and hypnotic often loop-based compositions seem to draw parallels with Detroit Techno's earliest beginnings, all at once conjuring those same feelings of both melancholic longing and ecstatic joy.

With access to Masin's large body of work, far greater than that of the handful of released recordings, Music From Memory's new compilation covers a period of over 30 years, from the mid 1980's up until recent works . Including seventeen compositions, most of which have remained unreleased or unavailable until now, 'Talk To The Sea' aims to shine a light on Gigi Masin's unique and heartfelt talent. This is electronic music from the soul."

XKatedral in collaboration with La Becque Editions are proud to present a new album release from Stephen O’Malley, co-founder of SUNN O))). This record contains two long-form compositions for pipe organ by Stephen O’Malley, which he performs alongside Kali Malone and Frederikke Hoffmeier.

The album was recorded on Les Grandes Orgues (Scherrer (1777), Walker (1867), Kuhn (1995)) at Église Saint-François, Lausanne, Switzerland, on Christmas 2021, initially composed by Stephen within a suite titled Les Sphères (effondrez-les) Phases I-V, for a collaboration with Belgian/Swiss choreographer Cindy Van Acker.

Stephen O’Malley is a guitarist, producer, composer, and visual artist who has conceptualized and participated in numerous drone and experimental music groups for over two decades – SUNN O))), KTL, and Khanate being among his best-known creations. Wildly prolific, O’Malley’s oeuvre is defined by its remarkable breadth, complexity and multidisciplinary interests. It includes collaborations with a wide range of experimental artists, including Scott Walker, Kali Malone, Alvin Lucier, choreographer Gisèle Vienne, the authors Dennis Cooper and Alan Moore, Peter Rehberg, Fujiko Nakaya, Jim Jarmusch, Johan Johansson, experimental music research centers IRCAM, INA-GRM (Paris), EMS (Stockholm) and many others. O’Malley is also a vigorous live performer and has toured around the world since 2000. His live performances feature a reverberating fog of electric guitar minimalism – sorcery that challenges boundaries of space and time.

Emily A. Sprague’s Cloud Time is an improvised ambient document of her long-awaited debut tour of Japan, recorded in autumn 2024. Compiled from over eight hours of live material captured in venues across the country, the album reflects a dialogue between performer, place, and moment, presented with no additional mixing and only minimal edits. Originally conceived as a journey rather than a traditional concert tour, Sprague approached each performance as an open exchange with her surroundings, redesigning her live setup to allow for real-time responsiveness and spontaneity. The result is a series of distinct, site-specific sound pieces shaped by intuition and environmental influence. Rather than follow a chronological order, the seven long-form tracks are sequenced to convey a narrative flow that mirrors the emotional arc of a full live set. Tracks like ‘Nagoya’, ‘Tokyo 1’, and the ten-minute ‘Matsumoto’ gently pulse with layered synthesis, embodying an ambient mode rooted in the ethos of kankyō ongaku and deep listening traditions. Cloud Time invites listeners into a reflective space where sound becomes a means of connection, stillness, and surrender—an offering from Sprague’s deeply personal and healing encounter with time, place, and presence.

Post-classical composer, sound artist, and curator Matthew Patton returns with his second album as Those Who Walk Away. Afterlife Requiem is an elegy to friend and collaborator Jóhann Jóhannsson. Drone, electroacoustics, and near-silences extracted from unfinished recordings on Jóhannsson hard drives, underpin two string quintets—Ghost Orchestra (Reykjavík) and Possible Orchestra (Winnipeg)—processed and erased in a doleful durational work. Patton also works again with Andy Rudolph (Guy Maddin) and Paul Corley (Sigur Rós, Ben Frost) on co-production and sound design, to forge a simmering physicality that juxtaposes roiling low-end with haunting movements of ghostly strings.

“Everything I have ever written is a Requiem. Everything an ending. Death is smeared all over this music. My work is about disappearance—of the present, the past, of everything. Afterlife Requiem gets slower and slower over its duration, it is one huge ritardando, time is not just slowing down—it is disappearing. Without even thinking, two related tragedies occurred and came to the surface organically while I was writing, recording, and working: the death of my mother and the death of composer and friend Jóhann Jóhannsson. When I start writing, I am not thinking of anything in particular, I am just writing, composing, recording, and listening… but something always makes itself apparent or pushes itself through in an unforeseen way. After my mother’s medically-assisted death, in clearing out her apartment, I realized that I was also erasing the physical manifestation of her world—and that I was doing the exact same thing with the music I was writing and recording. During this time, Jóhann’s death also kept making itself apparent.

For Afterlife Requiem I have taken short abandoned fragments from Jóhann Jóhannsson's hard drives and placed these disembodied audio ghosts in alternating sections within my own music, leaving them impure—and in the process blurring the distinction between making and un-making. After his death, I had been given these hard drives from Jóhannsson's Berlin studio to listen to. This music was abandoned, in various states of formation and dissolution: an index of decayed and dead memories, forgotten and now existing only within a series of interlocking mechanical parts which in time will themselves fail and disappear, like everything else. For months, I listened to these remains of Jóhann’s music obsessively, trying to discover clues about Jóhann before he died. Many times I would find that he had left the recording device going long after the recorded music was over. He seemed to be unaware that the music had ceased or didn't register this was the end of the music or maybe he was distracted by something else. But I found these long silences profoundly emotional and touching.

The disappearing elegies of Afterlife Requiem are not so much music as they are the remains of music. In this way I always work towards the subtraction of meaning. The music is distant and smeared, damaged, ghost-like and haunted, only hinting like a half-forgotten memory of what once existed; a condensed depiction of decay and erasure. I have underlaid the whole of this new piece, from beginning to end, with these disembodied silences from Jóhann’s own work, space, and time. Now gone forever, his recorded silence remains; a monumental vacancy lost to the world. Throughout the piece, and especially in the ‘Memorial Environment’ sections, I also incorporate countless natural-world sounds, everything from volcanic lava to freight elevators to human blood flow to turbine hiss to suicide injections.

Artist Robert Smithson said decades ago: ‘It is the dimension of absence that remains to be found’. For me, this music also measures how time runs out. In fact, time already has run out. Eternity has already begun.”

– Matthew Patton (Those Who Walk Away)

Dog’s light, dog’s light… a product of the fog itself. Illuminated mists flicker in the fog, swallowed by bells, skin torsion and finger squeaks. Here, mud made a rhapsody of distortion and sand. Dunes, where raised magnets at the dusk hour, receive textures and hints of country melodies, melodies mostly generated by limbs. Anon mists form a curtain hovering above the suburb of sand.

5-CD box set presenting virtually all of Morton Feldman'smusic for solo piano. Performed by Philip Thomas, who also writes a 52-page booklet that is included in the box (and a pdf of the booklet is included with download sales)

Artwork by David Ainley

Morton Feldman's three long pieces for flute, piano and percussion, played by the GBSR Duo (Siwan Rhys & George Barton) with Taylor MacLennan on flutes. Why Patterns? (1979) 30 minutes, Crippled Symmetry (1982) 90 minutes and For Philip Guston (1984) 280 minutes.

"The works contained in this box set occupy a special place within the context of Morton Feldman’s oeuvre, written as they were for Feldman’s ‘house ensemble’ at the University of Buffalo from the late 1970s onwards: Morton Feldman and Soloists. Flutes, piano/celesta and percussion is an idiosyncratic combination of instruments that Feldman came ultimately to favour. Indeed of Why Patterns? he said in 1983 “I never dreamt to write one of my most important pieces with that combination”; but in his last decade Feldman wrote multiple chamber works for identical forces only twice: the two string quartets, and the three trios presented here.

What a contrast – where the string quartet offers an abundance of woody timbres, this ensemble is glacial, dominated by simple, almost sine-tone-like sonorities. Percussion could be anything, but the pure metallic sounds of the vibraphone and glockenspiel dominate, with tubular bells and marimba introduced in Guston but rarely used. The ensemble seems almost an embodiment of Feldman’s spectacular statement from 1984’s The Future of Local Music “I’m not interested in colour”.

Yet in exploring the timbral etiolation this unusual trio affords, Feldman discovers an unexpected world of delicate tinctures where harmony and colour interact and become almost indistinguishable. Notably, immediately after stating “I’m not interested in colour,” Feldman continues by remarking on Schoenberg’s observations about the interaction between pitch and timbre: “he says that timbre is the prince of the domain, that the resulting timbre is to some degree more important than the pitch itself, as we think of pitch. That’s a very important idea.”

Perhaps it’s no surprise then that this ensemble, with its uniquely refined timbral combination, held the role of crucible for Feldman’s important compositional ideas in the transition into his fully-fledged late period.

For Philip Guston: The close friendship between Morton Feldman and the painter Philip Guston collapsed in 1970, an estrangement that would endure until the painter’s death in 1980. Four years later Feldman would dedicate this contemplative epic to his late friend and to their lost friendship; a work that conjures an emotionally complex world of hazy perceptions and hazier reflections.

As the hushed tones of piano, flutes, celeste and metallic percussion cluster in complex soft-focus rhythms, at some points cohering around snatches of melody, at others scattering to explore seemingly unrelated ideas, Feldman explores the limits of memory and half-recollection – traversing and re-traversing the same terrain, but with deceptively sure tread leading the listener towards a poignant, perhaps devastating, conclusion."

Young Anglo-German composer Eden Lonsdale returns to Another Timbre with this startling double-album, writing immersive, long-form experiments that question instrumentation, space and harmony in collaboration with Apartment House, Oerkal and Ensemble Ipse. RIYL Arvo Pärt, Morton Feldman or Gavin Bryars.

There's a softly-spoken quality to Lonsdale's compositions that we identified immediately when we copped his brilliant debut, 'Clear and Hazy Moons', last year. He pares his sound back even further on 'Dawnings', that's conceptually rooted in its three string pieces: 'Aura' (for solo cello), 'Cloud Symmetries' (for four violins) and 'Shedding' (for seven violas). Each piece is minimal in its own way, but pushes the instrumentation to its limits by extending the harmonic versatility; 'Aurora', for example, is performed by (and written especially for) Anton Lukoszevieze and uses an experimental technique for a cello tuned in just intonation, where the player can extract resonant chordal sounds just by varying the pressure in their left hand. And for a solo piece it's strikingly rich, even when compared with the ensemble pieces, its fictile, scraped moans splitting the difference between archaic Northern European folk and intimate chamber music.

Lonsdale's motions are clearer though on 'Shedding', a collaboration with Brooklyn's Ensemble Ipse that queers a simple three note melody with microtonal alterations that create justly tuned intervals. It's clever stuff on a formal level, and to our ears just works so beautifully, widening the aspect ratio and deepening the sense of longing with its poignant, gentle phrasing and obscured harmonics. Lonsdale intersperses the string pieces with more varied orchestrations: 'Dawnings' (for clarinet and piano), and 'Constellations' (for organ, with flute, clarinet, percussion and strings). The latter is particularly startling; Lonsdale imagined the composition as a spacialized installation of sorts, with the players scattered in small groups around the venue. Even in stereo, the concept comes to live as he layers the various sounds, using the organ's powerful tones to anchor the additional instruments as they overlap and create distinct tonal clouds.

It's a magical listening experience, honestly - one that shows Lonsdale's full range as a composer and has our heads spinning. Quite how he manages to balance the drama and restraint without sounding repetitive or schmaltzy is a genuine achievement, it's music that prioritizes texture and space, but still sounds harmonically captivating.

A defiant new recording of one of Morton Feldman's most disarming compositions, Apartment House's 'Violin and String Quartet' captures the icy character of the instruments, melting time into fuzzed memory. When Feldman began producing durational works in the late 1970s, he managed to confound even his most dedicated friends and followers. Steve Reich famously lost touch with his cohort during this period, later regretting it when he gave the compositions time to sink in - he eventually conceded that 1985's 'Piano and String Quartet' was "the most beautiful work of his that I know." 'Violin and String Quartet' was written the same year, only two years before Feldman died, and evolves slowly, lasting two and a quarter hours. This fresh interpretation from Apartment House is different from previous recordings, close-miking each instrument to emphasize the tiny variations in sound: the little earthquakes that lend drama to the composition's watery flow. One of Feldman's prettiest pieces, it's aptly elevated by Apartment House's refined technique. If you heard the ensemble's rendition of 'Piano and String Quartet' from 2021, 'Violin and String Quartet' is a worthy follow-up. Their expertise with NYC minimalism is well documented at this point, and feeds into the effortlessness they exude while soldiering through the piece's duration. Billowing clouds of harmony replace any expected "vocal" themes, and the piece hangs in the air, reshaping time rather than commanding attention. Apartment House use microscopic magnification to help us perceive Feldman's original vision; the composer was obsessed with natural reverb and the physical decay of his instrumentation, and gave the composition plenty of negative space for these elements to bleed into the foreground. Here, Apartment House treat the pauses with reverence, leaving the echoes and traces to imprint themselves into the recording. Melodies and phrases twist into bubbling whirlpools of bowed fluctuations that appear and reappear throughout the piece, rhyming with previous segments and creating disarming pockets of sonic deja vu. Feldman asks us to reconsider the act of listening, lulling us into an elevated state. Apartment House give us the experience of hearing the music as if in the same room, concentrating on the bows on the strings and how they interact with the environment. It's a form of meditation that requires focus, but also an ability to release yourself from temporal concerns for a couple of hours - right now, that's never been more important.

Seven beautiful, melancholic motets and a chanson by Renaissance composer Nicolas Gombert, arranged for instruments by James Weeks, who also composed the interludes. "One of the least expected and most beautiful records we are likely to hear this year." (Clive Bell) Gombert's music was renowned for the complexity of its polyphony, and these realisations, played by leading experimental ensemble Apartment House, emphasise the layered density of the music, while trying to take it as far away as possible from its origins as choral church music. The album is a personal project initiated by label owner Simon Reynell, a long-term fan of early music. Composer James Weeks also straddles the worlds of both early and contemporary music, and his 'media vita' interludes act as resting points between Gombert's intricate pieces. One of the bonus items which comes with the music is a pdf of an extended discussion about the project between Reynell and Weeks in which they discuss different approaches to the performance of early music, the brutal world of 16th century Europe from which the music sprung, and the ethics of promoting the music of a composer who did awful things. You can also read Clive Bell's excellent feature article about the album on another of the bonus items.