MUSIC

Originally released on the Anticipate label in 2007, "Standing on a Hummingbird" is the debut album by Canadian sound artist Mark Templeton, now appearing for the first time on vinyl, newly remastered by Giuseppe Ielasi and cut by LUPO. Working at the intersection of post-glitch, electroacoustic ambient, and textural minimalism, Templeton composes through restraint and erosion, building patient and richly tactile pieces primarily from acoustic sources - fingerpicked guitar, plaintive banjo, muted accordion tones - subjected to careful processes of granulation, filtering, and environmental masking. These gestures never overwhelm the source material; instead, they wonderfully destabilize it. Melodies appear briefly, only to dissolve into dense atmospheres of field recordings: distant streets, birds, water, air. Sounds hover, vibrate, and vanish, much like the wing beating latent in the album’s title. Tracks such as “Pattern For a Pillow” and “Amidst Things Uncontrolled” articulate this approach with particular clarity, setting languid acoustic figures against churning granular backdrops that feel at once sheltering and unstable. Elsewhere, moments of fragile clarity - fluttering guitar lines, reedy accordion tones - briefly break the surface before being absorbed back into the field. Heard today, the record offers a clarion, almost spartan strain of textural ambient music: intricate yet unforced, shaped by human touch rather than automated excess. Its refusal of spectacle feels especially vital in a landscape saturated with maximalist digitalia - a reminder that electronic music’s most enduring gestures often occur where sound is allowed to tremble and hold itself just long enough to be felt before disappearing once again. (Alex Cobb, 2026)

“Till Human Voices Wake Us.” Special edition for the 20th anniversary of Umor Rex [cat. URXX-CLXIII]. Originally released in 2014 on cassette and digital only, this album became a key work in our catalog. Now, 12 years later, it is available on vinyl for the first time. This marks the first in a series of four special, limited reissues to be released in 2026. Amini’s album is based on poems by T.S. Eliot, with ambient expressions that at times recall Morricone’s scores. The interplay of textures and electric guitar creates emotional passages, a sense of cold resolution, and the quiet inevitability of an ending. “Till Human Voices Wake Us” was Amini’s first album on a non-Iranian label. Following this release, he has also published work alongside Umor Rex on labels such as Room40, Hallow Ground, and Opal Tapes, among others, and is now considered one of the most prominent figures in Iran’s contemporary music scene. "Already established within Iran’s music scene, Siavash Amini has crafted a powerful signature sound that blends meticulously assembled ambient synthesis with languid electric guitar melodies, recalling Lanois and Eno’s classic Apollo." — THE QUIETUS (Tristan Bath) "Till Human Voices Wake Us—an album of fragile ambient sketches and gentle drones—was something of a “breakout” album for Amini. “This release alone started me on this path that I am on today,” Amini says." — BANDCAMP (interview by Adam Badí Donoval)

Flung is proud to present a major new work by cellist and composer Okkyung Lee with London’s Explore Ensemble: Signals dissolves boundaries between live performance, studio construction, and electroacoustic illusion. Following her 2025 minimalist/ambient album ‘just like any other day (어느날): background music for your mundane activities’ on Shelter Press, Okkyung Lee moves in another direction with London’s Explore Ensemble. Flung is proud to present Signals, a release that eludes categorisation while shifting between electronics, acoustic composition, and improvisation. It places Lee’s improvisational language in dialogue with the instrumentalists of Explore Ensemble’s sextet, whom together become enveloped by kaleidoscopic electronic sound, at times fiercely intense, at others weightless yet immense. As a meta-document of the ensemble’s commission for Lee, Signals takes recordings from live performances in Leuven, Huddersfield, and Luxembourg, restructuring them with additional layers created and edited in the studio. Lee’s hybrid approach blurs the line between real and imagined acoustics, where the listener’s sense of small and huge, near and far, dark and bright, all combine in seemingly impossible ways, restlessly morphing between materialisation and dissolution. The album unfolds in seven sections, one for each of Explore Ensemble’s musicians plus Lee’s own section ‘Wings / First Love’, which ends both sides of the LP (the second instance also called ‘Farewell’). Every section creates a distinct environment that tests the boundaries between instrument and performer — including Lee herself on cello sitting among the ensemble — from ultra close-mic string crackles, to woodwind multiphonic canyonscapes, melodies heard both near and far, and the piano turned inside out. Where Lee renews Signals for every performance by altering the sequence of these sections, on record she commits to a fixed constellation that reinforces both the particularities of the individual musicians and the work itself in a striking of live and studio composite version. A release that feels both self-interrogating and outward- looking, Signals folds Lee’s personal language together with collective form. Each performer’s presence — their sound and intuition — emerges clearly, while Lee’s voice remains central. As she writes: The main focus of making music has been to understand myself through the music. For me the audience is there to immerse themselves in that journey, and maybe discover something on their own. For the last seven years, the world seems to have split into two extreme ends, with no possibility of bridging the gap. Once I felt this sense of hopelessness, I also started to ponder upon the reason for this music's existence when it didn't seem to have any actual relevance to what was happening in the world. Not that the music should have "meaningful reasons for its existence" but how can I express my political stances and beliefs without lyrics or long explanatory texts? With this aspiration, I wanted to create a piece with signals that can generate multiple facets for the performers and the audience. — Okkyung Lee Signals is released by Flung as its first vinyl released in an edition of 300, with accompanying digital version.

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.”

On Reflections Vol. 3: Water Poems, Félicia Atkinson and Christina Vantzou channel their friendship and atmospheric artistry into ceremonial focus. Spoken-word environments and orchestral imagination flow like tributaries into a unified stream, resulting in a collection of dreamlike songs and soundscapes anchored in sea, sky and stone. Through electro-acoustic instrumentation, voice, and environmental sound, Water Poems invites listeners into a subconscious space somewhere between everyday intimacy and the oceanic enigma from which all life unfolds.

Shutting Down Here is a special work. Symbolically, it covers a period of thirty years, between two visits by Jim O'Rourke to the GRM, the first, as a young man fascinated by the institution and his repertoire, the second, as an accomplished musician, influential and imbued with an aura of mystery. Shutting Down Here is a piece shaped like an universe, a heterogeneous world in which collides the multiple musical facets of Jim O'Rourke: instrumental writing, field recordings, electronic textures and cybernetic becomings, dynamic spaces, harmonic spaces, silent spans . This variety of approach, strangely, does not in any way weaken the coherence of the whole and this is the talent of Jim O'Rourke, a talent, properly speaking, of composition, where all the sound elements compete and participate to stakes that exceed them and of a common destiny, that is to say of an apparition.

Divine Comedy stands as a magnum opus crafted by two of the foremost composers of their era, boasting a musical ambition akin to Dante’s poem and its visual interpretation by Sandro Botticelli or Gustave Doré. For a long time, this triptych was presented as a two-sided work in which Bernard Parmegiani’s Hell and François Bayle’s Purgatory responded to and extended each other, guided by Michel Hermon’s voice through the listener’s imagination. Because Paradise, a mixed piece co-composed and performed live, had never been released on record before. Indeed, fifty years after its premiere, Paradise is unveiled to our ears, thereby rounding off the very first complete edition of the Divine Comedy.

« Labyrinthe ! » (2003), 56’41 Premiered on March 29th 2003, salle Olivier Messiaen de Radio France, Paris. Commissioned by Radio France. An expedition in sound in 10 sequences: Enfoncement [Deep Sink], Gouffre circulaire [Circular Abyss], Noyau secret [Secret Core], Apesanteur [Weightlessness], Entrailles [Entrails], Four solaire [Solar Furnace], Fissures [Cracks], Mer intérieure [Inner Sea], Éruption [Eruption], Remontée [Ascension]. Labyrinthe ! is not only a very unique piece in Pierre Henry’s masterful repertoire, but also a remarkable demonstration of his compositional skills and musical singularity. Indeed, for this piece, Pierre Henry was deprived of his own, otherwise essential, sonic material. Here, the sounds, provided by GRM collaborators at the time, carry their own distinct stories, sensitivities and qualities. Yet, despite this discrepancy, Pierre Henry’s voice, the breath and dynamics of his own music, quickly appear. Through this sonic maze, a music arises, utterly focused on sounds, their development and their use, which Pierre Henry applies with extraordinary clarity and determination.

9 CD with 9 composers of electroacoustic music who did work at INA-GRM.Ludger Brümmer, “Deconstructing Double District” (2011), “Xronos” (2002), “Glasharfe” (2006), “Spin” (2014).Philippe Leroux, “La guerre du faire” (1992), “M.É” (1998), “Objets trouvés… posés” (2009).Diego Losa, “Cronicas del tiempo” (2005), “Historias de dos mundos” (2007), “Sortie d’un rêve dans une nuit étrange très loin d’ici…” (2012), “Horizons ou le récit d’un voyageur” (2015).Mario Mary, “Signes émergents”v (2003), “2261” (2009), “Une bouffée d’air” (2006), “Portraits témoins” (1997).Luis Naon, “La sphère et la pierre” (1993-94), “Perspectives” (2004 – 2017), “Lascaux rbana” (2004).Ake Parmerud, “Les objets obscurs” (1991), “Renaissance” (1994), “Dreaming in darkness” (2005), “Electric birds” (2012).Elzbieta Sikora, “Axerouge V” (2011), “Chicago Al Fresco” (2009), “Flashback” (1968-1997), “Derrière son double” (1982-83).Kees Tazelaar, “Chatoyance” (2013), “Chroma” (2006), “Sternflüstern” (2003), “Sérénade” (2016).Hans Tutschku, “Extrémités lointaines” (1998), “Distance liquide” (2007), “Monochord” (2008), “Migration pétrée” (2001).

The decision to assemble a boxed set titled Luc Ferrari, l’œuvre électronique [Luc Ferrari, Electronic Works], defining the word electronic in the widest sense possible, meant bringing together an essential part of the composer’s work: tape music without any classical instruments.
From Étude aux accidents (1958) to Arythmiques (2003), the 31 works in this compilation will help the listener to discover all the facets of his art based on “captured” sounds. He tried and tested all the different techniques of studio work: brilliantly elaborated electroacoustic works, radiophonic story-telling or Hörspiele, which he particularly relished, or other semi-improvised works.
This editorial choice is not a way of drawing a hierarchy between on the one hand so-called mixed music (with instruments), which he excelled at, and on the other hand the type of music published here, which only includes recorded sounds. On the contrary, what we aimed to do was to show the strong links he drew between natural sounds and the way he scored them. On this subject, Pierre Schaeffer often talked of the necessary balance between sounds and musicality. The power of recorded sounds alone (voices, landscapes, strange sounds, everyday scenes, etc.) without formal mastery is not enough to hold the listener’s attention for long.
From that point of view, each work of Ferrari’s is a discrete lesson in music. Ferrari was always very lucid when he claimed that a composer was a little like a “journalist” who, through his compositions, witnessed the state of the world while at the same time creating a work of art.
This is another aspect of this edition: as we listen and in filigree, half a century unfolds before us. A committed artist bears witness to technological progress, political awareness, reports and crucial encounters. More than an essential compilation, this boxed set reflects the personality of a diverse, inventive and extraordinarily musical man.

Daniel Teruggi / David Jisse, 2008

For the 30th birthday of INA, the GRM has decided to present in this CD box some of his archives. CD1 “les visiteurs de la musique concrète” : André Hodeir – Pierre Boulez – Jean Barraqué – Darius Milhaud – Roman Haubenstock-Ramati – Henri Sauguet – Edgar Varèse – André Boucourechliev – Claude Ballif – Iannis Xenakis – Olivier Messiaen. CD2 “L’art de l’étude : Pierre Schaeffer – Monique Rollin – Michel Philippot – Philippe Arthuys – Luc Ferrari – François-Bernard Mâche – Mireille Chamass-Kyrou – Ivo Malec – Philippe Carson – Akira Tamba – Beatriz Ferreyra – Alain Savouret. CD3 “Le son en nombres » : François Bayle – Dieter Kaufmann – Jean-Claude Risset – Ivo Malec – Denys Smalley – Gilles Racot – Yann Geslin – Bénédict Maillard – Jean Schwarz – Francis Dhomont. CD4 “Le temps du temps réel” : Bernard Parmegiani – Åke Parmerud – Denis Dufour – Horacio Vaggione – Alain Savouret – François Bayle – Gilles Racot – Daniel Teruggi – Ramon Gonzales-Arroyo – Michel Redolfi. CD5 “Le grm sans le savoir” : Bernard Parmegiani – Robert Wyatt/F. Bayle – François Bayle – Alain Savouret – Jean Schwarz – Michel Portal/J. Schwarz – Boris Vian/B. Parmegiani – Robert Cohen-Solal – Guy Reibel – Edgardo Canton – Christian Zanési.Pour marquer et fêter les trente ans de l’Ina, le GRM a choisi de réunir en un coffret exceptionnel de cinq disques compacts quelques unes de ses archives musicales parmi les plus remarquables. Souvent inédites ou alors dispersées au gré des publications, ces œuvres originales ont marqué par leur nouveauté et leur audace la seconde moitié du XX° siècle.Un coffret de 5 CD augmenté d’un album de 101 photos.CD1 “les visiteurs de la musique concrète” : André Hodeir – Pierre Boulez – Jean Barraqué – Darius Milhaud – Roman Haubenstock-Ramati – Henri Sauguet – Edgar Varèse – André Boucourechliev – Claude Ballif – Iannis Xenakis – Olivier Messiaen.CD2 “L’art de l’étude : Pierre Schaeffer – Monique Rollin – Michel Philippot – Philippe Arthuys – Luc Ferrari – François-Bernard Mâche – Mireille Chamass-Kyrou – Ivo Malec – Philippe Carson – Akira Tamba – Beatriz Ferreyra – Alain Savouret.CD3 “Le son en nombres » : François Bayle – Dieter Kaufmann – Jean-Claude Risset – Ivo Malec – Denys Smalley – Gilles Racot – Yann Geslin – Bénédict Maillard – Jean Schwarz – Francis Dhomont.CD4 “Le temps du temps réel” : Bernard Parmegiani – Åke Parmerud – Denis Dufour – Horacio Vaggione – Alain Savouret – François Bayle – Gilles Racot – Daniel Teruggi – Ramon Gonzales-Arroyo – Michel Redolfi.CD5 “Le grm sans le savoir” : Bernard Parmegiani – Robert Wyatt/F. Bayle – François Bayle – Alain Savouret – Jean Schwarz – Michel Portal/J. Schwarz – Boris Vian/B. Parmegiani – Robert Cohen-Solal – Guy Reibel – Edgardo Canton – Christian Zanési.Album “archives grm en images” : album photos noir et blanc de 80 pages et 101 documents. Une suite poétique de photographies jalonnant l’aventure des chercheurs, compositeurs, musiciens et techniciens, qui animent les cinq disques du coffret.

Milestone Reissue! The three discs collected here - housed in a lavish cardboard boxet (+ Includes a 116 page booklet in French and English with biographical notes, essays and program notes for each work, and a 52 page booklet with photographs) - cover the bulk of Pierre Schaeffer's concrète works, beginning with his pre-tape days when he composed using multiple turntables mixing sound effects recordings direct to lathe. The earliest recordings here were created in 1948 during Schaeffer's days as radio engineer for Radiodiffusion Française and are built from sounds ranging from locomotives and whirligigs to pots, pans, piano, and percussion. Each of those collages eventually made their way onto the air. His Suite pour 14 instruments is an amalgam of orchestral sounds rendered far beyond their original context. Where these early works clearly function as experiments for Schaeffer, once Pierre Henry joins in as his assistant, the music takes on both a playfulness and a refinement of detail that eventually became landmarks of the French approach to musique concrète. The processes became increasingly laborious, and those who once flocked to Schaeffer's studio to work in this new medium became disillusioned by the demand and patience that the work required.

On Harmograph, Matteo Scaioli turns self-built synths and live tablas into a single breathing organism, stretching 35 minutes of big-room ambience into shifting patterns where pulse, overtones and hallucinated folk-memories slowly braid together. BRA (Big Room Ambient) opens its catalogue with a statement of intent. Harmograph by Matteo Scaioli presents the label’s ethos in concentrated form: ambient and experimental music conceived not as background wash, but as a large, resonant field where electronics and distant musical traditions interact on equal terms. Over just past half an hour, Scaioli builds a sonic environment that feels expansive enough to fill space - physical or internal - yet detailed enough to reward close, headphone-level attention. It is “big room” not because it is loud, but because it imagines a room whose walls keep receding the more you listen. At the core of the album lies a distinctive instrumentation. Scaioli works with self-built synthesizers and experimental electronics, machines whose quirks and instabilities are embraced rather than ironed out, and sets them against the hand-played complexity of tablas. The result is a soundworld where oscillators and drum skins seem to learn from each other. Long, hovering tones, subtly detuned pads and faintly granular textures form an ever-shifting backdrop, while the tablas articulate intricate rhythmic cycles that move between clearly marked patterns and more fluid, wave-like motion. Sometimes the electronics lead, sketching a harmonic or textural horizon for the percussion to illuminate from within; elsewhere the drums pull the music forward, their tactile presence giving the drifting synths a spine. Across its 35-plus minutes, Harmograph unfolds less as a suite of discrete tracks than as a continuous journey through related states. Motifs recur, but they do so in altered light - a phrase returns with different filtering, a rhythmic figure reappears at another tempo or density, a previously submerged detail moves to the centre. The balance between structure and improvisation is finely judged. Underneath, there is a clear sense of design: overarching rises and falls in intensity, carefully staged transitions, long arcs of harmonic colour. Within that frame, Scaioli allows himself to respond in the moment - stretching a tabla phrase when the groove demands it, letting a synth drone decay into unexpected overtones, following small accidents that open up new directions. As an opening salvo for BRA, Harmograph sets a high bar and a clear trajectory. It points toward “unexplored territories of contemporary sound” not by chasing novelty for its own sake, but by listening closely to how older rhythmic languages and hand‑built electronics can co-exist without one reducing the other to ornament. The album’s hypnotic, deeply organic feel comes from that refusal to choose: it is neither a straight fusion record nor a pure electronic abstraction, but a meeting ground where lineages intersect and something quietly new comes into focus. For listeners, it offers a space to inhabit rather than a problem to solve - a patient, evolving landscape that invites you to stay long enough to notice how much is moving beneath its surface.

Aspen Edities is pleased to present Aerial, the third album of the experimental quartet Oker. Whereas their album debut Husene våre er museer (2018) and its follow-up Susurrus (2021) focused on collective and individual compositions, Aerial features two longform pieces of fully improvised music, sculpted from the recognizable acoustic sound palette that the quartet has developed across a decade of extensive touring. The titles, Aerial, Equinoctial Tide and Crepuscular Rays refer to meteorological and planetary phenomena, and in Oker’s interplay we hear light, wind, clouds, and tidal cycles transpire as shimmering, roaring, rubbing, coalescing and diverging environments of sound. The sonic stoicism and minimalism in their expression is challenged by frictioning micro-chaoses, combining to create calm, winding paths of musical detail and form. Echoing our planet and its meteorological reality, Aerial yields both consistency and perpetual change.

Whitney Johnson, Lia Kohl, and Macie Stewart are a trio who utilize string instruments, voices, and manual tape effect processing to craft compositions from alternately tranquil and disquieting improvised music. The three musicians are individually rooted in deep sound exploration, multi-disciplinary composition, and all manner of cross-genre collaboration. The musical ground covered by their solo practices is correspondingly expansive, and their individual recording and performance credits read as a veritable who’s who, ranging from DIY darlings to household names of experimental avant-garde, electronic, indie rock, and more.

The trio’s collective sound is based in improvisation—automatic, intuitive composition via their three voices and three string instruments (viola, cello, and violin, respectively). Their influences are vast—dispatched with more playful ease than a trio of string instruments is typically approached with, and just as likely to be found in the cloud-obscured mountains of Donegal, the low-rent cacophony of a midwestern basement, or the revelatory expanse of the Nurse With Wound list as in the storied halls of the academy. Touchstones and areas of interest aside, the main thing that Johnson, Kohl, and Stewart engage with in BODY SOUND is listening and reacting.

“Improvisation has a special capacity to facilitate a kind of sonic intimacy,” says Kohl. “We're making choices together in the moment. We're creating time together before thought enters the equation. It's an incredibly intimate and intuitive space to share, and feels like the heart center of this music and this practice.”

The trio’s approach to improvisation is very much embedded in and informed by their Chicago music community. The city’s ongoing improvised music tradition, which can envelop every genre imaginable, is one where a working musician’s ideas can evolve at a near-constant pace and where anything can be explored in the name of sound. And with sound, there’s always space to consider.

Where will the improvisation take place?

How will that space shape the sounds being made?

How will that sound resonate in the dim light of a small neighborhood bar?

How will it sound in the chromatic refractions of an ornate church?

Can it feel different-yet-equally perfect?

For Whitney Johnson, Lia Kohl, and Macie Stewart the answer to the last question is yes, definitely.

Stewart: Our quest as a crew is to explore space and every iteration of what that can mean, be it physical space, emotional space, sonic space, etc. Space is an instrument.

Johnson: It’s more than the acoustic properties of the recording spaces. Our bodies, emotions, and relationships show up in those spaces with affordances and limitations for the music each time. We are vibrating beings, sensitive and expressive, an amoeba of physical and psychic pressures with specific resonances in time and space.

Kohl: The space we’re in always feels like a collaborator in this trio more than in other contexts. I can always feel us all responding to where we are and the resonances that live there.”

On BODY SOUND, the trio worked with International Anthem engineer and album co-producer Dave Vettraino to translate the sonic specificities of three recording locations: International Anthem studios on Iron Street (Chicago), Shirk Studios (Chicago), and Boyd’s Jig and Reel (Knoxville, TN, as part of Big Ears Festival). Vettraino also brought a deep knowledge of tape manipulation and a willingness to experiment. “All it took was for one of us to say, ‘What if that was a loop?’, and he was already setting up the reel-to-reel,” says Johnson of the album’s post-production, which leaned heavily into their shared love of saturated tape sounds.

That trust, it seems, was already there. In addition to the communal criss-cross inherent in sharing their Chicago home base, the trio worked with Vettraino on Stewart’s 2025 solo effort When the Distance Is Blue. It was her debut on International Anthem but far from her first appearance in the label’s catalog as a player. Ditto for Kohl and Johnson, whose collaboration and friendship with the label goes back years. Taken as a whole, we could argue that this most recent collaboration, the tape-manipulated fried beauty documented on BODY SOUND, has been a long time coming.

In the context of this work, tape sound is much more than a mixing treatment or a production tactic. Here Johnson, Kohl, and Stewart are using variations on the medium to edit and reshape the pieces themselves, employing multiple analog tape machines to reimagine their improvised material into meticulously crafted compositions (“another layer of improvisation,” says Stewart). It’s all a response to the spaces they were originally engaged with, and the use of a highly physical medium like analog tape deepens the spatial engagement of the trio’s work to striking, playful, and organically psychedelic effect.

The resultant BODY SOUND is deep, melancholy, and triumphant, coming across like a kind of lost or amalgamated folk music. It’s certainly part of an ongoing creative continuum, even boasting track titles adapted from Yoko Ono’s classic book of text scores Grapefruit.

The album’s opener “dawn | pulse” puts a morning drone at the threshold of their sound world. This undulating slow roller is a free time drift of bowed tonal clusters respiring in long, melodic swells, and unfurling among wordless singing. Despite the time marker in the title, this piece feels suitable for any part of the day—the morning stretch skyward, the afternoon ambling respite, or the late-nite chillout. Both majorly serene and deceptively avant garde, “dawn | pulse” is a perfect entrée into BODY SOUND.

“laundry | blood” begins with a near-waltz percussive tumble created by a tape loop of Kohl’s barrette-prepared cello. Its soft and eerie triplet propels a deep and snarling viola-cello-violin drone forward à la the doomiest moments of the Berlin School canon or the repetitive outsider glory of Tony Conrad & Faust's Outside the Dream Syndicate. It’s a darkly cinematic take on the ambient ideal for the scarcely visible slow-moving night train chug. You can almost see it roll by.

Some moments feel intentionally disconnected from the performance, instead tied more closely to the concept of LP format listenership: the disintegrated melodic pumps and clomps of “chewing gum”, the body shaking radiator hiss come-apart of “snow | touch”, the otherworldly bass and sub-bass of “stone | piece”.

Across the album’s 11 tracks, each piece manages to keep a foot in both worlds. “burning | counting (sleeping)” begins abruptly with massive bursts of heavily-bowed sawtooth strings looping in real time, creating a near-synthetic feeling. Deep stutter-step freneticism, tape-manipulated and rendered into overlapping moments of dense psychedelia give way to an oncoming long-note tranquility—an improvised cacophony evoking some long dissipated storm-paced Irish folk drone more so than a New Music exercise or a study of Kronos / Reich.

And that seems to be the story with all of the material within BODY SOUND. It’s music with inexplicably broad appeal while maintaining a sort of mysterious outsider quality. Johnson, Kohl, and Stewart have created a stunning album—an exquisitely textured, spatially vivid, wordlessly expressive, sonically multitudinous collection—that manages to decode a slew of high level concepts while clearly and directly speaking to the human impulse. BODY SOUND is right.

For the exhibition “Flowers in 20th and 21st Century Art“, Eiko Ishibashi and Jim O‘Rourke had created the installation ”Lifetime of a Flower“ in which they set parameters but allowed the process itself to grow uncontrollably. Literally: in the garden of their Japanese house, they planted seeds and filmed the plant growing and thriving throughout the duration of the exhibition. Visitors were able to watch the stream in real time - and they heard a composition in which Ishibashi and O‘Rourke reflected the organic process in sound. The eponymous composition now available on LP, is an enigmatic and sophisticated layering of sounds, melodies and rhythms, noises from everyday life, all of which are repositories of associations, memories and expectations.

SONIC TRANSITS Electronic and Tape Music by Peruvian Composers (1964-1984) This compilation offers a first overview of the early works of electronic and tape music created by Peruvians between 1964 and 1984. This period marks a technical and aesthetic evolution that allows us to understand the development of electronic music in the Peruvian context, from an initially internationalist model to a more situaded one. The first phase occurs in the 1960s, when many composers migrated outside Peru in search of advanced training and access to knowledge and infrastructure that the academic music scene in Peru could not provide. During these specialization trips, Peruvian composers gained access to the languages of the international avant-garde of the post-war period. César Bolaños traveled to Argentina, to the Centro Latinoamericano de Altos Estudios Musicales (CLAEM) at the Instituto Di Tella, where he produced an extensive body of work, including "Intensidad y Altura" (1964) for magnetic tape, the first electronic work produced in the CLAEM electronic music laboratory. Similarly, Edgar Valcárcel was a CLAEM fellow and also spent time at the Columbia-Princeton Electronic Music Center in New York, where he composed, among other works, "Invención" (1967) for magnetic tape. Enrique Pinilla also passed through there, composing "Prisma" (1967) for magnetic tape. Alejandro Núñez Allauca was another CLAEM fellow, where he composed "Gravitación Humana" (1970) for magnetic tape. However, several Peruvian composers faced the dilemma of how to continue these sonic explorations locally without relying solely on specialization trips to access the infrastructure of major international laboratories. Due to the inability to establish a laboratory for electronic music production in Peru during these early decades, given the weak institutional framework of the academic music circuit and the absence of budget allocations for the National Conservatory, it was rather private initiatives in recording studios that paved the way for the sustained production of experimental pieces with electronic setups and media, largely oriented towards the production of music for film and dance. This was accompanied by a notable interest in utilizing the sounds of native Peruvian instruments. This also marked a shift from an internationalist model of electroacoustic music towards an openness to other types of sonic experimentation. Composers such as Arturo Ruiz del Pozo, Luis David Aguilar, and Corina Bartra belong to this new period, which also marks the emergence of an initial scene of experimental music and free improvisation. Ruiz del Pozo pursued a Master's in Electronic and Film Music at the Royal College of Music in London, where he composed "Selvynas" (1978), part of his series "Composiciones Nativas," concrete music pieces based on native Peruvian instruments. Upon returning to Lima, he continued producing music for films using electronic sounds and setups. Luis David Aguilar also became involved in music for film and television, composing, among other works, "Hombres de viento" (1978), the soundtrack for José Antonio Portugal's film, which mixes native and Western instruments amplified and processed electronically. He would be one of the first to have a private recording studio. Corina Bartra, after being part of various improvisation ensembles alongside musicians such as Ruiz del Pozo and Aguilar, traveled to London where she took courses in composition and electronic music, composing the mixed work "Aves en vuelo al sur" for voice, instruments, and tape in a private studio. Sonic Transits: Electronic and Tape Music by Peruvian Composers (1964-1984) is part of the Essential Sounds Collection series produced by Buh Records for Centro del Sonido, a website set up as a digital archive of Peruvian experimental music and sound art. The compilation has been curated by Luis Alvarado and is published in a limited edition of 300 copies in double vinyl format. It includes extensive notes and visual documentation. Mastered by Alberto Cendra. Art and desig by Gonzalo de Montreuil.

The first resonant space Zosha Warpeha played in was the Emanuel Vigeland Museum in Oslo, Norway. Built as a mausoleum, its walls reach up into a gradual archway, creating an environment where sound expands and reverberates for twelve seconds before decaying into silence. Warpeha was greeted only by dim lights when she entered, and it wasn’t until she had spent several minutes listening that she was able to make out the frescoes that covered every inch of the room: graphic depictions of the cycle of life from conception through death. As the sound of her Hardanger d’amore encountered the walls and these slowly emerging scenes, they obscured its point of origin in both time and space, augmenting its own life cycle. The experience sat in the back of her mind over the next several years as she developed her own patient style of composition and performance, one that comes into full bloom on her new album I grow accustomed to the dark. When Warpeha was selected as an artist in residence at Brooklyn’s ISSUE Project Room in 2025, she saw it as an opportunity to more intentionally explore how her music might fill a room with ample natural reverb. I grow accustomed to the dark documents two single-take solo performances for Hardanger d’amore and voice at IPR, with both pieces composed in a unique tuning system developed to interact with the space itself. Listeners can trace resonance from the contact of the bow on gut strings into the body of the instrument, its five sympathetic strings offering another layer of refraction, before the sound is thrown about the cavity of the room. The echoes emerge like a photographic double exposure, or wisps of smoke that linger in the air, creating ghostly harmonic convergences that blur the line between what is there and not-there. Sound begins to act like light, a synesthetic alchemy that transforms drones into beams and ornamental trills into flickers. Both side-long compositions, “filament” and “visual purple,” exemplify a duality that animates Warpeha’s music: an expressive, individualistic style that draws on extensive knowledge of her instrument’s history in folk traditions, and an austere, devotional quality maintained by focus and precision. Though very different in character and structure, both pieces evolve slowly through numerous repetitive phrases, passages of stillness, and bursts of intensity. “filament” opens with a cycle of delicate melodic fragments played and sung around a drone before blossoming into an outpouring of swooping arpeggios, harmonics flying from the strings like sparks off a bonfire. The disorienting pulsation of harmonic beating forms the core of “visual purple,” the close-tone dissonance building to a swarm of open strings ringing boldly throughout the space. After the knotty tones reach their climax, the piece collapses into studied quietude, hushed, but without any drop in intensity. When Warpeha first visited the Vigeland Museum in 2019, she was in Oslo to deepen her relationship to the Hardanger fiddle through the study of Norwegian traditional music, which is primarily passed down aurally. The experience of learning songs by ear, not only internalizing the tune but also absorbing the techniques and tonalities by listening, was a crucial step in her development as a composer. The years since have seen her sharpen those skills as a prolific member of the New York avant-garde and improvised music communities. Warpeha’s music encourages listeners to join her in this journey, to listen closely with each repeated phrase and through each dramatic shift. Like the frescoes on Vigeland’s walls, with time and intention, the depth of I grow accustomed to the dark comes on like a revelation.

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.

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)

Japan’s electroacoustic vanguard reconvene for their second album proper, once again shining light on previously unoccupied space somewhere between Arthur Russell and Autechre. It’s supremely moody, impossibly innovative business, folding Yuki Nakagawa's no-wave'd cello vamps into Koshiro Hino (aka YPY)'s brittle electroid syncopations, absolutely essential listening if you’re into SND, Pan Sonic, DNA, Suicide.'KAK' - what a title - is the next stage of KAKUHAN’s evolution, seemingly self-titled but hiding plenty of clues if you understand Japanese. "KAK" can evoke a number of different characteristics: edge or angularity, core, expansion, agitation or absence. The duo meditate and refract these guiding principles over nine tracks (and a bonus digital addendum) with their usual focus on the interplay between man and machine - something Hino's been exploring for many years with both his solo work as YPY, and with his pioneering band, goat (JP). Working with electronics (drum machines, samplers, oscillators) Hino infuses weightless rhythms with rare fluidity, as if tracing an algorithm trained on Milford Graves. His rubbery, bio-mechanical outbursts are formed into jagged, continuum-confusing trajectories - prismatic spaces where grime intersects footwork and jersey club, and drill corkscrews thru gagaku and Americana.Yuki Nakagawa's emphatic improvisations are just as mind-altering. While he holds back at first, accenting Hino's rapid-fire sequences with hollow, resonant scrapes and junked Downtown distortions, he eventually edges further towards centre stage. Featherlight cello squeals are elongated, imagining a decelerated hoedown, angling folk-y, ecstatic shapes while Hino responds with drum machine prangs. Soon, the duo skewer nervy baroque ornamentation with clockwork whirrs that trip over themselves, the insectoid rhythmic fractals gradually scuttling around a droning cello. By the end of the album, the duo have somehow completely switched roles; Hino's grey boxes now sounding as if they've been excavated from ancient ground, while Nakagawa's strings throb with cybernetic energy, beamed in from a far dimension.

On Natural Selection, Florian Hecker moves away from the unified conceptual frameworks of earlier projects like Synopsis Seriation and his collaboration with Mark Leckey, Hecker Leckey Sound Voice Chimera, in favour of a looser, more exploratory approach. The nine pieces here — some lasting under a minute, others stretching beyond thirty — form what Hecker calls a “constellation of pieces originating from related investigations.”

Each track reflects ongoing research into machine listening, automated sequencing, and synthetic cognition, extending from Hecker’s gallery works such as TEMPLEXTURES and RESYNTHESIZSERS. Though grounded in these complex ideas, the album remains accessible, revealing Hecker’s mischievous sense of sonic play.

Opening with the brief surge of f92ex0.03, the record soon plunges into Syn 21845 8 J15 Q12, a piece co-written with computational auditory analyst Vincent Lostanlen, where forward and backward time collide in a dizzying auditory illusion. Elsewhere, Hecker converts analysis tools into sound generators (m syn 260e 2402), manipulates reverb algorithms into dense, mechanical textures (Layer), and hints at rhythmic cohesion on the warped, dubwise m syn bold heuristic driver.

The closing piece, M 35/36, distils Hecker’s fascinations into a 35-minute blur of evolving tones, spectral phantoms and xenharmonic colour. Natural Selection is among his most engaging works to date — rigorous yet unexpectedly playful, cerebral yet vividly alive.

how it thrills us, the bird's clear cry...
any cry that was always there.
children, playing in the open air,
children already go crying by
real cries. cry chance in. through crevasses
in that same space whereinto, as dreaming
men into dreams, the pure bird-cry passes
they drive their splintering wedge of screaming.
where are we? freer and freer, we gyre
only half up, kites breaking
loose, with our frills of laughter flaking
away in the wind. make the criers a choir,
singing god! that resurgently waking
may bear on its waters the head and the lyre.

The seven compositions on this album, written between 2022 and 2024, form a conceptual suite and an observance of the mental dances that we construct to understand acts of passage; the ways that we commune and memorialize and carry symbols back into the world beyond representation.

To this end, THE HEAD AS FORM'D IN THE CRIER'S CHOIR engages two references to the ancient Greek myth of Orpheus: Rainer Maria Rilke’s Sonnets to Orpheus, a collection of poems from 1922, and Claudio Monteverdi’s l’Orfeo, an early baroque opera from 1607. The myth of Orpheus tells the story of a musician who, grief stricken by the passing of his wife, Eurydice, descends to Hades to persuade the deity of the dead for her return. Along the way, Orpheus seduces those who would block his passage with the deeply lamenting music he conjures from his lyre. Hades agrees but with one condition: Orpheus is not to turn around and look at Eurydice until the pair once again breach the world of the living. Not surprisingly, as they approach the surface, Orpheus grows anxious and turns around to confirm Eurydice’s presence behind him, therein sending her back to the underworld forever. As the story goes, Orpheus then sings for death to take him away; with his wish finally granted by a group of maenads, Orpheus’ detached head and his lyre float down the river, continuing their mournful song.

For many years, I sought to largely separate my studio practice from my live performance practice, with the awareness that the unique limitations and possibilities of each domain were almost sacred to their individual characters. THE HEAD AS FORM'D IN THE CRIER'S CHOIR is a supplement of sorts to TWO SISTERS (2022) and ANTIPHONALS (2021), which were attempts to begin bridging this gap between the fixed electroacoustic pieces that emerge in the studio context and the somewhat open and slow-paced chamber writing that I do, in which each performance presents a new structure and in which each iteration offers the path to a new composition and deeper meaning. I am, as always, greatly indebted to the talented and incredibly sensitive musicians who appear on this album, many of whom are regular interpreters of my music: Andrew McIntosh (viola, Los Angeles), Mattie Barbier (trombone, Los Angeles), Lisa McGee (mezzo-soprano, Los Angeles), Pierre-Yves Martel (viola da gamba, Montréal), Eyvind Kang (viola d’amore, Los Angeles), and Rebecca Lane (bass flute, Berlin), Sam Dunscombe (bass clarinet, Berlin), Michiko Ogawa (bass clarinet, Berlin), M.O. Abbott (trombone, Berlin), and Weston Olencki (trombone, Berlin) of the Harmonic Space Orchestra (Winds). For my part, I again return to my favourite keyboard instruments on this album: Mellotron (in particular, the brass and woodwind samples that I so adore), electric organ (the Korg CX-3), synthesizer (the Prophet 5 and Korg PS-3100, which are both extremely useful in their tuning capabilities), and, of course, pipe organ.

There are four pipe organs featured on this album: a mechanical-action instrument built by Tamburini in 1968, located in the Basilica di Santa Maria dei Servi of Bologna, Italy; an electric-action instrument built by Veikko Virtanen in 1969, located in the Temppeliaukio Church of Helsinki, Finland; a meantone mechanical-action instrument built by John Brombaugh in 1981, located at Oberlin College’s Fairchild Chapel in Oberlin, Ohio, USA; and, a mechanical-action instrument built by Aristide Cavaillé-Coll in 1864, located in the Église du Gesù of Toulouse, France. The organ pieces on THE HEAD AS FORM'D IN THE CRIER'S CHOIR focus more heavily on the instruments’ pedals as well as the textural variations made possible by the mechanical tracker actions that most possess. The Brombaugh organ at Oberlin College offered a particularly meaningful compositional opportunity both in its use of the meantone temperament that was typical of the early seventeenth-century organ designs it’s based on, and in its use of split accidental keys, which accommodate for the lack of enharmonic equivalence in an extended meantone system. ‘Possente Spirto’ is a loose conceptual reference to the aria ‘Possente spirto, e formidabil nume’ in l’Orfeo. As in Monteverdi’s version, my piece also emphasizes the use of strings and brass and observes a particular order in which they enter and exit, and also incorporates a sort of continuo framework. I depart from there to focus on a slow-moving chord progression and its variations in voicing, inspired by renaissance concepts of harmony as a vertical structure, set within a standard quarter-comma meantone temperament. The piece employs the same structure that I use in most of my chamber writing, where each iteration of a performance is slightly different, calling on players to respond in real time and engage in a more direct form of listening. Several different colours of interval are heard throughout: the typical meantone minor third of 310 cents, the wolf minor third of 269 cents, the wolf fifth of 738 cents, and finally the standard meantone major third of 386 cents, which is one of a few intervals that this tuning system shares with just intonation. As with essentially all of THE HEAD AS FORM'D IN THE CRIER'S CHOIR, this piece is also quite variable in duration. ‘Trio for a Ground’ continues this feeling of partitioned instrumentation, with the organ providing the continuo throughout and the choir handing off to a duo of strings. In this recording, I chose to work with baroque strings – the viola da gamba and the viola d’amore, the latter of which incorporates a set of sympathetic strings that exist entirely for resonance. ‘Res Sub Rosa’ was composed specifically for a wind quintet formation of Berlin’s Harmonic Space Orchestra, and employs a system of septimal just intonation as well as a similarly variable structure that allows the players some discretion in how the piece is shaped at any given moment and which encourages different harmonic and acoustic encounters in each performance. ‘Constants’ functions as an electronic counterpoint to ‘Res Sub Rosa’, substituting human decisions with the natural interruption and decay cycles of sound-on-sound tape delay to achieve a similar sense of pacing and unpredictability.

- Sarah Davachi, 2024

Sofia Jernberg was born in Ethiopia and grew up in Vietnam and Sweden, a background that feeds directly into a practice defined by flexibility, range and curiosity. Trained in jazz and composition, she has worked across jazz, free improvisation and contemporary art, collaborating with figures such as Stefan Schneider and Mats Gustafsson, and appearing in stage and screen projects including Matthew Barney, Erna Ómarsdóttir and Valdimar Jóhannsson’s ‘Union of the North’. Voice serves as a focused entry point to her work: a solo document that treats the human voice as a full-spectrum instrument. Across the album, Jernberg explores non-verbal vocalisation, split tones, distortion, toneless singing and multiphonics, all produced without electronic effects. The results range from clipped, percussive pops and rasping noise to dense, phased tones that feel closer to wind instruments or analogue synthesis than conventional singing. At its core are the multiphonic pieces, where Jernberg layers pitches into unstable, spiralling forms that blur the line between human and machine. Elsewhere, single-note studies, quivering drones and bubbling textures test the physical limits of sound production. Unsettling, precise and deeply absorbing, Voice presents a veteran improviser redefining what solo vocal music can be.