MUSIC

Unbound by place or genre, mercurial, experimental pop duo Soft as Snow find freedom to intuitively reflect the disarray of human connection with their intricate, shape-shifting pop production. With each successive release, the duo evolves, unfurling into their own poetic sound, now fully realized on their intimate, third full-length, Metal.wet. The oft-present trappings of male-female duos are eschewed here as the Berlin-based Oda Starheim and Øystein Monsen contribute equally across a canvas of analogue synthesizers, samplers, live drums, and processed guitars. At once a part of and yet apart from the zeitgeist, their forward-thinking modernity stretches the limits of expectations across Metal.wet's ten insouciant tracks. Fans of Tirzah, Hype Williams, and even Angelo Badalamenti will find much to love in this haunting work peppered with ASMR moments and rough sampling wrapped in high production –– twinkling glasses and sirens in the distance, rhythms and voices up front. The result is synth-driven, noisy, and dripping with laidback, confident sensuality. Although Starheim's voice begins the album in a whisper, it quickly becomes apparent that the group has jettisoned their previous tendency to bury and distort her vocals. Nested in a bed of thorny electronics and broken rhythms, her multifaceted vocals might bring to mind Kazu Makino of Blonde Redhead or Hope Sandoval fronting Massive Attack. London MC Brother May (Mica Levi, CURL) makes an appearance on the driving and ethereal “Whip,” while Øystein’s own voice appears for the first time in a state of languid background haze. Soft as Snow create and record across Europe. Defiantly averse to genre, the pair become vessels for their “electronic music pushed to the brink of collapse” (The Wire), previously released by Infinite Machine and Houndstooth. Informed by backgrounds in film and performance art, “there’s a surrealism that comes with watching Soft as Snow in the flesh,” (Vice) as seen at L.E.V. and Lunchmeat Festivals. Collaborations with visual artist Guynoid, designer AGF Hydra, and sculptor Camilla Steinum add depth to the corporeality of their “strange, mesmerising and utterly unforgettable” electronic experimentations. (DJ Mag).

Properly stunning fever-dreamweaving on this new one from Zaumne, occupying an elevated space at the intersection of flickering dub-pop and ASMR soundscaping. If you’re into anything from HTRK to Malibu, Félicia Atkinson to Voice Actor, consider it a major life enhancement. For his Sferic debut, Zaumne enlists YL Hooi - a constant source of inspiration for many of us here, as well as Metoronori and the muted sax of Patrick Shiroishi. Loosely inspired by Baudelaire’s ‘Flowers of Evil’ (soft spoken extracts of which appear throughout), the album is a sort of exercise in escapism and sensual wandering. Throughout ‘Parfum’, faded pop is fleshed out with surreal elegance: all flickering neon and half-heard whispers suggestive of blurred late night fantasies; liminal, abstract, and highly evocative. Sounds hang in the air like incense, caressing the senses with an intentionality that's missing from so much landfill ambient. On opening track 'Voyageur’ he sets the scene with pastoral field recordings, dragging a pitched voice and elongated pads through a rhythmic throb that reduces dub techno to a faint knock. There are echoes of music from the fringes of the afterhours club scene too: Andrew Pekler's obscure imaginary landscapes, Jake Muir's druggy bathhouse vapours, DJ Lostboi’s balmy introspection. But despite a shared bleary–eyed aesthetic, Zaumne’s sound is more explicit and well defined, and with it brings a more acute emotional pull. When YL Hooi appears on 'Sorcières', her voice; drenched in reverb but absolutely crystalline, takes proceedings to a whole other level, reminding us of Natalie Beridze’s perennially overlooked ‘The Wrestler’ from her 2003 album for Thomas Brinkmann’s Max Ernst label; a sort of echo chamber dub perfectly re-imagined as dreampop. A whispered French vocal introduces us to 'Éther', a smoked cloud of looping synths and twinkling bells, and on 'Nymphes’ a wash of pads, wind chimes and waves lapping at the shore somehow manages to swerve all the associated schmaltz you’d imagine and instead gives us the same tingling sensation we had when we first heard Art of Noise’s ‘In Visible Silence’ at dusk, on a beach in the south of France, what seems like forever ago. There's a ritualistic quality to Zaumne’s music too, as if he's burning rare gums and mosses over smoldering coals in a remote Carpathian clearing. Hikari Okuyama, aka Metoronori, brings her pointed surrealism to 'Ombres', adding a softly spoken wonder to Olszewski's chimes, while Los Angeles-based multi-instrumentalist and composer Patrick Shiroishi contributes horn curliques to 'Prairie', ushering us towards the same sonic space inhabited by Bohren und der Club of Gore and Julee Cruise.

“hi leaves” is the new full-length record from soft tissue, the duo of Glasgow-based artists Feronia Wennborg and Simon Weins. Following their self-titled debut for Penultimate Press in 2019, this collection examines microsound by way of extended amplification technique, bone conduction, domestic recordings, and digital feedback. Tracks like “plant pot” and “kettle” appear to disclose their source material, presenting wonderfully tactile environments of highly articulate sound. Wennborg and Weins prove themselves to be masterful arrangers of discrete, organic material, weaving together knotty and immersive compositions from these sharp, prickly sounds. Ultimately, soft tissue inhabits an intoxicating soundworld somewhere in between the patient abstractions of composerly EAI music, the haptic indulgences of ASMR, and the diffuse digital pastorals of the 90’s a-musik/Cologne scene.