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Newly remastered version of Oren Ambarchi’s long out-of-print classic Hubris originally released on Editions Mego in 2016. Expertly remastered by audio wizard Joe Talia who worked with the original mixes, highlighting the myriad details of the audio with forensic precision, previously unheard up until now. From the 2016 press release: Hubris continues the exploration of relentless, driving rhythms heard on Ambarchi’s Sagittarian Domain (2012) and Quixotism (2014). Where those records looked to Krautrock and techno for their starting points, the sidelong opening track here begins from the perhaps unlikely inspirations of disco and new wave, drawing particularly from Ambarchi’s love of Wang Chung’s soundtrack to William Friedkin’s To Live and Die in L.A. Leaving behind the song-forms of these reference points, Ambarchi weaves a sustained and pulsating web of layered palm-muted guitars from which individual voices rise up and recede, eventually setting the stage for some lush guitar synth from Jim O’Rourke. Arnold Dreyblatt collaborator Konrad Sprenger contributes overtone-rich motorized guitar, pushing the piece into a satisfying intersection of shimmering minimalism and rhythmic drive that smoothly builds up until the entrance of Mark Fell’s electronic percussion in its final section. After a short second part, in which Ambarchi, O’Rourke and crys cole pay tribute to the skewed harmonic sense of Albert Marcoeur with a track built from layered guitar figures and abstracted speech, the long final piece pushes the concept of the first side into darker and denser areas. Joined by electronics from Ricardo Villalobos and the twin drums of Will Guthrie and Joe Talia, the layered guitars of the first piece are transformed into a raw and tumbling fusion-funk groove that calls to mind early Weather Report or even the first Golden Palominos LP. As this stellar rhythm section rides a single repeated chord change into oblivion, a series of spectacular events emerge in the foreground: first, aleatoric synthesizer burbles from Keith Fullerton Whitman, then slashing skronk guitar from Arto Lindsay, until finally Ambarchi’s own fuzzed-out harmonics take center stage as the piece builds to an ecstatic frenzy. Few artists could hope to include such an incredible variety of collaborators on one record and still hope for it to have a unique identity, but Ambarchi manages to do just that, crafting three pieces that emerge directly out of his previous work while also pushing ahead into new dimensions. Players: Oren Ambarchi, crys cole, Mark Fell, Will Guthrie, Arto Lindsay, Jim O’Rourke, Konrad Sprenger, Joe Talia, Ricardo Villalobos, Keith Fullerton Whitman.
The new album dad bb marks Hajime Tachibana’s first solo release in 13 years since his 2013 USB album MONACO, and stands as his tenth solo album.
The terms “nursery rhymes” and “children’s songs” may give rise to visions of idyllic innocence and the charms of childhood, but "Play Nursery Rhymes and Children's Songs" by Tokiyo Ooto & Orhythmo, their first release on EM Records, brings forth quite different aural imagery: this is an eerie and unsettling sonic picture book which hints at the darkness and mystery which form the hidden heart of many traditional songs and rhymes. The length of the songs provides a hint: each piece delves deeply into the latent uncanniness of the music, with superficial innocence gradually displaced as electric guitar, bass, field recordings and concrete sounds draw the listener into a chilly forest, while Tokiyo Ooto’s voice croons dark “lullabies for adults,” blending elements of folk, slowcore and dream pop. The Tokiyo Ooto & Orhythmo duo formed in 2023, releasing their first album in 2024. This release updates two pieces from the first album, and also includes a traditional Japanese children’s song from Shiga Prefecture and a masterpiece for children by composer Yasushi Akutagawa. Both musicians are Osaka-based: Otoo is a guitarist and singer-songwriter who also works in band and solo contexts; Orhythmo is a bassist with hardcore punk roots who focuses on improvisation, drone, noise and ambient sound. This release is available on CD, vinyl and DL; physical versions feature a printed insert with Japanese and English lyrics. The evocative cover is by Yoshitomo Ano.
The terms “nursery rhymes” and “children’s songs” may give rise to visions of idyllic innocence and the charms of childhood, but "Play Nursery Rhymes and Children's Songs" by Tokiyo Ooto & Orhythmo, their first release on EM Records, brings forth quite different aural imagery: this is an eerie and unsettling sonic picture book which hints at the darkness and mystery which form the hidden heart of many traditional songs and rhymes. The length of the songs provides a hint: each piece delves deeply into the latent uncanniness of the music, with superficial innocence gradually displaced as electric guitar, bass, field recordings and concrete sounds draw the listener into a chilly forest, while Tokiyo Ooto’s voice croons dark “lullabies for adults,” blending elements of folk, slowcore and dream pop. The Tokiyo Ooto & Orhythmo duo formed in 2023, releasing their first album in 2024. This release updates two pieces from the first album, and also includes a traditional Japanese children’s song from Shiga Prefecture and a masterpiece for children by composer Yasushi Akutagawa. Both musicians are Osaka-based: Otoo is a guitarist and singer-songwriter who also works in band and solo contexts; Orhythmo is a bassist with hardcore punk roots who focuses on improvisation, drone, noise and ambient sound. This release is available on CD, vinyl and DL; physical versions feature a printed insert with Japanese and English lyrics. The evocative cover is by Yoshitomo Ano.
A work of genuinely monumental proportions. Jean-Claude Eloy's Gaku-No-Michi - subtitled "Tao of Music" or "Ways of Music" - stands among the towering achievements of 20th Century electroacoustic practice. Produced at the electronic music studio of NHK Radio in Tokyo between 1977 and 1978, its four hours of concrete and electronic sound unfold as what the composer called "a film without images" - an immense, spiraling architecture of sonic transformation that remains, nearly five decades on, as radical and absorbing as the day it was conceived. Born in Paris in 1938, Eloy belonged to the great second wave of post-war European composers. He studied at the Conservatoire National Supérieur, winning First Prizes in Piano, Chamber Music, Counterpoint, and Ondes Martenot, and worked on composition with Darius Milhaud. Summer courses at Darmstadt brought encounters with Messiaen, Boulez, and Stockhausen; he then entered Boulez's master class at the Music Academy in Basel. Yet Eloy was never content to remain within the European serialist orbit. A professorship at the University of California, Berkeley during the late 1960s opened his ears to Eastern aesthetics - to the vast, unhurried perception of time in Asian musical traditions. From that point forward, his trajectory diverged sharply from his contemporaries, carrying him toward India, Japan, and a singular practice in which the boundaries between Occident and Orient dissolved into sound itself. After the 135-minute electronic meditation of Shânti (1972-74), realized in Cologne, Eloy traveled to Tokyo. There, working inside the NHK Denshi Ongaku Studio, he produced Gaku-No-Michi - a composition of staggering ambition, structured in four linked parts. The first, "Tokyo", draws on the raw acoustic fabric of the city - subway announcements, factory hum, political speeches broadcast from loudspeakers in public squares - and subjects it to a slow, spiraling metamorphosis, pulling the concrete toward the abstract. "Fushiki-e", the longest section at nearly 80 minutes, reverses the trajectory: electronically generated material absorbs fragments of Gagaku court music, Nô theater, and Shômyô Buddhist chant, drifting toward a sustained "sound of immobilization" - an immense organ point of contemplative stillness. "Banbutsu no Ryûdô" works an endlessly metamorphosing weft of daily and extraordinary sound, where a nationalistic speech dissolves into the buzzing of insects, where the hollow strike of a bamboo Shishi Odoshi against stone emerges only after long electronic transformation. "Kaiso", the final movement, condenses reminiscences of all that preceded, built around the annual commemorative ceremony of Hiroshima, leading through gravity and lament toward an infinitely sustained tone of peace. What distinguishes Gaku-No-Michi from so much electroacoustic work of its era is the sheer physical presence of its sound world. Eloy does not merely manipulate material - he inhabits it. The timbral palette is extraordinarily rich: electronically fabricated Tibetan bells more haunting than their acoustic counterparts, iridescent spirals that diffract into divergent lines before converging into vast harmonic masses, crackling meteorite trails, low-pitched resonances swept by winds both violent and majestic. The experience of duration is central to the work's design. Four hours is not a provocation but a necessity - the time required for the listener's perception to shift, for ordinary awareness of passing minutes to give way to something closer to immersion, to what Eloy described as a "psychophysical acoustic" encounter with sound. This 4CD set on Hors Territories represents the first complete publication of the work in its digitalized and revised version, dedicated to the memory of Wataru Uenami. Packaged in a 10-panel digipak with a 16-page booklet in French and English, it is an essential document - not only for admirers of Eloy, but for anyone drawn to the outer reaches of what composed sound can achieve. A bridge between worlds, between concrete and abstract, between the noise of the living city and the stillness at the heart of contemplation. CD 1: “Pachinko” introduces “Tokyo” in a deliberately stiff, regular, almost mechanical and untranscended way while the big spiral of long successive waves, which further develops through Tokyo, becomes more and more varied in its material ending in the surpassing and searched-for transubstantiation taking place throughout the fi nal part. CD 2: The second disc, “Fushiki-e”, takes us (through varied, complex, contrasted and sometimes violent sound episodes) towards the four “stages of contemplation” including the last one, “Mokuso”, which represents the ultimate stage of the contemplative. It is the longest part of the whole piece, lasting almost 80 minutes. CD 3: “Banbutsu no Ryûdô” is a boundless continuous “weft” travelling so to say through all sorts of daily or exceptional « sound scenes » continually metamorphosing, going from political speeches to a Shishi Odoshi, transformed for a long time well before its pure, direct appearance. CD 4: “Kaiso “ is a moment of gravity innervated and built around the annual commemorative ceremony of Hiroshima, which however leads us beyond the evoked drama to a place of surpassing with peace through the « Han » sound, extending the work to infinity…”
Packaged in a 6 panel digipak. Includes a 16 page booklet in French & English. A massive, four side-long drone-epic masterpiece “Shânti” (1972-73) for electronic and concrete sounds, in a spectacular double CD digipack issue. A hundred-and-thirty-five minute piece of "meditation music" for a four-track magnetic tape by Jean-Claude Eloy, produced in the Electronic Studio of the Radio of Cologne “The term “meditation music” triggered many conflicting comments including positive ones (“... let us say that Shanti belongs to those very rare works that change you after listening to them. You are not exactly the same before and after.” - Gerard Mannoni, Le Quotidien de Paris, 1974). Others, wondering at the strong sound presence of the piece, consider such aspect as hardly helpful to their own meditation... Let us be clear: “what meditates” here (”that” who meditates) is the composer. He is the one who takes you on his journey and guides you through his work like in a classic or romantic symphony. As a listener you are invited to follow “his” meditation... The composition is the meditation.”
Modern Obscure Music presents The Bubble of Love, a new collaborative album by Pedro Vian together with Ustad Nawab Khan and Naved Nawab Khan — the 9th and 10th generation of a distinguished santoor lineage from Rajasthan, India. Recorded during an intense week of sessions at Pedro Vian’s studio in Barcelona, the album captures a rare and concentrated encounter between traditions, generations, and sonic languages. Ustad Nawab Khan, a 9th-generation master of the santoor and founder of Raaga Science, has devoted his life to exploring the emotional and psychological dimensions of Indian raaga music. His philosophy, “Raag se Ras utpan” — the creation of emotional states through specific raagas — forms a conceptual backbone for the project. Carrying the lineage forward, Naved Nawab Khan represents the 10th generation, bringing a contemporary global awareness while remaining deeply rooted in classical tradition. The Bubble of Love unfolds through four meditations that create a dialogue between ancient tonal systems and modern electronic exploration. In three of the four pieces, the chromatic subtleties and traditional scales of the santoor intertwine with Pedro Vian’s unexpected synthesizers and electronic textures. These compositions form a bridge between Occidental and Oriental musical worlds, where resonance becomes a shared language. In the fourth and final meditation, the collaboration shifts toward a more experimental dimension. While maintaining the same instrumental foundation — santoor and electronics — Pedro Vian explores alternative notes and scale structures, expanding the harmonic field. This movement reflects both understanding and incomprehension, alignment and tension between cultures. Rather than resolving differences, the music inhabits them, transforming contrast into a space of discovery. Released on Modern Obscure Music, The Bubble of Love is not merely a fusion record. It is a concentrated meeting point — lineage and futurism, discipline and experimentation — crystallized in a week of deep listening and creative exchange within an intimate studio environment. At moments, the record subtly echoes earlier attempts to translate ancient traditions through emerging technologies. It recalls the spirit of experimentation found in projects where Moog synthesis sought to interpret the tonal worlds of classical instruments — from the dialogues between Ravi Shankar and Philip Glass, to the exploratory journeys of Ariel Kalma, whose music continues to resonate powerfully in the very walls where this album was recorded. In this broader historical context, The Bubble of Love also resonates with the pioneering electronic explorations documented in The NID Tapes — the collection of early Indian electronic works recorded between 1969 and 1972 at the National Institute of Design in Ahmedabad. Founded with the support of composer David Tudor, who installed a Moog modular system in 1969, the NID studio became a radical space of post-independence experimentation, where composers such as Gita Sarabhai, I.S. Mathur, Atul Desai, S.C. Sharma and Jinraj Joshipura explored analogue synthesis, tape collage, voice and field recording — forging a meeting point between Western and Indian avant-garde traditions. Uncovered and restored through the long-term research of British artist Paul Purgas, and later presented alongside the publication Subcontinental Synthesis: Electronic Music at the National Institute of Design, India 1969–1972, The NID Tapes revealed a visionary chapter in South Asia’s sonic imagination — one where electronic instruments did not replace tradition, but refracted it into new forms. While separated by decades and geography, The Bubble of Love inhabits a similar philosophical terrain: not the fusion of opposites, but the coexistence of lineages — where electronic sound becomes not an imposition, but a listening device. A way of approaching tradition with curiosity rather than control. In this sense, the album stands both as a continuation and a renewal — a contemporary meditation on the enduring dialogue between heritage and experimentation, between memory and future sound.
Swiss unarchivers WRWTFWW give vinyl wings to a cult, 1999 Japan suite of jazz-spurred techno and shine-eyed electronica balanced between Warp’s AI comps and A.R.T.’s future jazz styles A lot of Japan-o-philes will be made-up to see this one on wax after more than a quarter century as a CD only curio and, since ’22, on download formats. All the material is duly given room to breath over 2LP, spinning the ‘Bug in the Bassbin’-era Carl Craig vibes of Missing Project’s ‘Poisson D’avril (Da’ Future Given a Deep Soul Mix)’, thru it soaring ‘Galaxy Dub’, via chunky house wigglers from Virgo, a slow-rolling groove by Tensor, early Black Dog feels in Penance’s ‘Cure of Soul (Fossil Mix), and low-slung trip by Led-M.
あまりにも嬉しい〈Efficient Space〉からの奇跡のリプレス！オーストラリアに沸く現代ニューエイジの屈指の泉、Andras Fox = Andrew Wilsonが描くやすらぎ盤の第2章...
本作はAndrew "Wilson" 1人だけでなく、Not Not Funからデビューしたヴェイパーウェイヴ & AORの哀愁インスト紳士、あのEleventeen Eston = John "Tanner"とのプロジェクトです! メルボルンとパースの海辺や夕陽、都市の街なみをバックに想い想いのダンスでアンビエントなたけを演奏してきた彼ら。今作はその想い想いな部分が小さく小さく、空気やムードなレベルにまでおだやかに、しかしこれまでになく色濃い境地にまで達してます。Tannerのクラリネット、Wilsonのシンセが舞うA1 "Sun Room"からしてどうしましょう...
グラフィックと音楽が同じ土台でむすびつく、オーストラリアならではのアートワークもすばらしい。Emotional RescueやPalto Flats、Music From Memoryがそうしたように、数十年たっても語り継がれてほしいアンビエントの傑作です。
Hi-energy electronic dance music from Northern Ghana, created by farmers turned musicians working out of DIY rural studios. Relentless percussion, trance loops, heavy autotune and slinky VST synths. Sourced from locally-released VCDs circulating the markets of Dagbon and entirely unavailable outside the region until now. Studio Simpa collects tracks from the past decade of the neo-traditional Dagomba dance genre, modernized traditional percussion dance - produced by Mohamed “Ebony” Fuseini, recording drums on his phone and recreating the sound of traditional music via FL Studio. Collaborating with “Gawani”, flashy singers from the surrounding villages and local VCD producers, Ebony created hyper-electronic versions of simpa for the local video market, complete with suggestive videos of women shaking their hips - light cultural transgression in the predominantly Muslim Dagomba North. The compilation showcases the top artists of the scene - Dickson Gawani, Bala Zaaku, Yaa Naara and others - across a range of style and subject, from political commentary to warrior clan rhythms. Includes extensive liner notes by Morgan Greenstreet with artist interviews, cultural history, and song translations.
Damian Dalla Torre returns with People Pleaser, a record shaped by movement, collaboration and an ever-deepening relationship with sound as environment. The Leipzig-based multi-instrumentalist, composer and producer first found wide attention with his 2022 debut Happy Floating, and his subsequent album I Can Feel My Dreams was named the #1 Contemporary Album of 2024 by The Guardian, an accolade that broadened his audience and deepened confidence in his evolving voice. That second album, written between Europe and South America, opened unexpected doors and took Dalla Torre to stages across New York, Japan and Italy. “When you release music, it’s very intimate,” he reflects. “You show your emotions pretty raw. I was kind of scared. But getting so much positive feedback gave me a lot of self-confidence to try out more.” People Pleaser begins in that quiet shift of confidence. The title stayed with him for months before he committed to it. “It was a working title for a long time,” he says. “I didn’t actually think I would use it. But this term also felt somehow relevant in connection with the phase of self-negotiation during the development process. Some aspects are related to pressure, others are positive.” The ambiguity felt right. Rather than presenting it as a statement, Dalla Torre leaves it open, an invitation rather than a confession. At the centre of People Pleaser is collaboration. Guitarist Bertram Burkert, whose playing stretches from classical delicacy to electric abstraction, joined Dalla Torre in the studio for an intensive three-day session, recording a wide palette of textures that would become the backbone of the album. Vocalist Laura Zöschg, a key live collaborator, harpist Babett Niclas, organist Felix Römer, tape experimentalist Markus Rom, marimba and vibraphonist Volker Heuken and Japanese artist Manami Kakudo also contribute, creating a sound that feels intimate yet expansive.
Initially conceived as a short-run cassette for Altered States Tapes, YL Hooi’s nameless collection of textural apparitions oscillate between icy DIY minimalism, FX-drenched atmospherics and nang chamber dub. A ghost-like transmission, Hooi's voice serves to anchor an array of sonic abstractions and impressionistic melodic motifs as a sense of purgatorial ambience dominates throughout. Co-produced with alleged fellow Kallista Kult member Tarquin Manek (LST, M. Quake), Untitled’s ultimate sensation is its halfway state, as if caught between worlds. The album's final form speaks of its origins, recorded intermittently over a two year period (2017-2019). The extended time passage seeps into the song structures, spiralling and mutating from the same centre - the elegiac pulse of opener 'Title' presages the hymnal lilt of 'Straight Thru', before birthing the inverted bossa nova of 'W/O Love'. The result is a constantly shifting tableaux of shared liminal spaces. These songs seemingly emerge in plumes of smoke, magician's tricks conjured from the ether. It's a vision that ossifies at Untitled's midpoint with a cover of Love Joys' 'Stranger', the lovers rock original morphed into the transportive intimacy of Hooi's own hazy inner space, a totem of the LP’s amorphous and ultimately sensuous qualities. The sound from both down under and way out there in subspace, Untitled is an inspired masterstroke of experimental mystics. This 2021 Efficient Space edition is remastered and robed in new artwork that honours the Melbourne-based earth dragon’s Chinese and Russian heritage.
Evidence has traveled the world, released a string of acclaimed albums with Dilated Peoples and as a solo artist, has become a respected producer crafting beats for Kanye West, Beastie Boys and Linkin Park among others. For his part, Alchemist has become one of rap’s triple threats, producing for Snoop Dogg, Eminem, Nas and many more. Alchemist is also an accomplished rapper and Eminem’s touring DJ. While they were building their respective careers, Evidence and Alchemist had worked together regularly collaborating on Dilated Peoples albums, Evidence’s solo material and Alchemist’s releases. As the pair continued collaborating, they began labeling themselves as Step Brothers when they would record, as noted on Evidence’s The Layover EP. The pair then decided it was time to record an album together. Now as the Step Brothers, Evidence and Alchemist deliver another stellar musical achievement, Lord Steppington, which delivers lyric-driven, punchline-heavy and intricate rhymes. Lord Steppington boasts the best of the duo peppered with frequent collaborators and friends, including Action Bronson, Roc Marciano, Domo Genesis,The Whooliganz, Styles P, Fashawn, Rakaa, Blu and Oh No.
Julia Holter always knew there were multiple forms her song “Materia” could take. The tune’s dynamic, Hildegard von Bingen-inspired melody and dense modal chords stood on their own without a complex arrangement on her wondrous 2024 album Something in the Room She Moves, but she felt a lingering desire to expand the texture and stretch out the harmony. Though she could hear the potential orchestration in her head, Something was already abundant with layers of sound by the time she finished it. She stuck with the original form of “Materia,” then, her cresting voice and blue Wurlitzer hosting games of harmonic hide-and-seek above subtle electronics. But on the new Materia, a kind of companion LP or sequel to Something, Holter has realized not one but two distinct versions of the song. “Materia 2” is a hallucinatory dream of drum machine, fretless bass, and clarinet, Holter’s voice spiraling through the ether alongside that of Jessika Kenney. She reconsiders the lyrics, too, novel fragments of surrealistic images reinforcing the original’s link between spirit and body, between love and blood. And on “Materia 3,” Holter literally slows down the take from Something. (It’s intended to be experienced as a “bonus track” in an homage to the CD era of her youth.) The change not only emphasizes the unpredictable glory of the harmonies within but also reiterates the song’s emotional sophistication, the sense that it’s about learning how to live. Materia is only seven tracks long, but Holter works in nearly that many modes here. There is the slowed “Materia” and the version reimagined for two voices, of course, but there are also two tracks that spooled out of the DAW project files and full band she built for Something. There are two astounding improvisations: one where she manipulates her voice so that each word seems to contain a symphony and another that is one of Materia’s most spellbinding and emotional pieces, “My Twin,” from which Holter lifted a riff to build the song “Fantasy.” These seven songs show that Holter is among her generation’s most open writers of art-pop, moving among ideas and idioms with exploratory aplomb. Materia is a kind of playground for Holter, where each distinct scene steadily coheres into a moving whole.
Japanese Edition with Obi. The album is one of the most influential albums of the post-rock, electronica, and “acoustic school” that followed.
Dedicated to the memory of Sean Edward Stewart (6.2.81 - 18.3.10) Produced by HTRK Mixed by Nigel Yang Mastered by Denis Blackham at Skye Cover wave image by Trent Mitchell Polaroid by Eulalie Fumond Halperin-Katz, Paris 2009 Sleeve design by JCS Thanks: Mark, Gloria, Tia, Andrea, Conrad, Jeremy, Max, Julia, Andrew ℗ 2011 Blast First Petite (UK) | Mistletone (AU) | Ghostly International (US)
アルバムについて Following the jazzy library vibes of 2023’s collaborative Dolphin LP with Greg Foat and Moses Boyd, the venetian maestro Gigi Masin returns to the ambience for which he is renowned, with Movement - his first solo full-length since 2020’s Calypso, and his Sacred Bones Records debut. Fuelled by creative reinvention and rhythmic motion, he moves seamlessly between melancholy electronic notes, technoid robotics, groovy liminal cloudscapes, and fathoms-deep ambient aquatics. Since early beginnings in obscurity, his 1986 debut album Wind slowly built an organic following on late night radio, later bolstered when “Clouds” was sampled by artists like Björk, Post Malone, and more. He now counts Oneohtrix Point Never, Devendra Banhart, Caroline Polachek, and the late Kenny Wheeler as fans. The new album Movement reflects on Masin’s place within the pantheon of ambient masters, his ongoing artistic ambitions, and his aspirations for a scene which he’s seen grow exponentially from humble beginnings. The LP is also an ode to literal movement, both in nature, and in human physical expressions to sound. Masin strived to make ambient music for movement, not in the standard dance music sense, but “dynamic music, with a beating heart full of love.” Reconfiguring ambient’s association with solitary listening and cold academia, Gigi went outwards, channeling something somatic that connects with the body, not just the mind. “Bed on Mars” sets the titular tone for Masin’s renewed curiosity, with cosmic atmospherics evoking the sensation of waking up on a new planet unafraid, whilst the poignant synthesized trumpet and suspended liminal limbo of “Lost” feels like floating adrift in an unknown sea. Delving further into off-centre beats is the celestial techno funk of “Deception Dance,” which sounds like Sun Electric jamming with Carl Craig and Kraftwerk. The bright beaming light of “Golden” radiates warmth, sounding like the bossa nova brother of Göttsching’s Balearic classic E2 E4. Despite the passing of his wife after a long illness, and losing his musical archive in a flood, Gigi remains pure-at-heart and positive, pouring his soul into the pursuit of beauty. The latest in a slow starting but steadily building career, Movement sees Masin continue to secure his seat at the table of true ambient greats.
In the mid-1970s, a force of nature swept across the continental United States, cutting across all strata of race and class, rooting in our minds, our homes, our culture. It wasn’t The Exorcist, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, or even bell-bottoms, but instead a book called The Secret Life of Plants. The work of occultist/former OSS agent Peter Tompkins and former CIA agent/dowsing enthusiast Christopher Bird, the books shot up the bestseller charts and spread like kudzu across the landscape, becoming a phenomenon. Seemingly overnight, the indoor plant business was in full bloom and photosynthetic eukaryotes of every genus were hanging off walls, lording over bookshelves, and basking on sunny window ledges. The science behind Secret Life was specious: plants can hear our prayers, they’re lie detectors, they’re telepathic, able to predict natural disasters and receive signals from distant galaxies. But that didn’t stop millions from buying and nurturing their new plants.
Perhaps the craziest claim of the book was that plants also dug music. And whether you purchased a snake plant, asparagus fern, peace lily, or what have you from Mother Earth on Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles (or bought a Simmons mattress from Sears), you also took home Plantasia, an album recorded especially for them. Subtitled “warm earth music for plants…and the people that love them,” it was full of bucolic, charming, stoner-friendly, decidedly unscientific tunes enacted on the new-fangled device called the Moog. Plants date back from the dawn of time, but apparently they loved the Moog, never mind that the synthesizer had been on the market for just a few years. Most of all, the plants loved the ditties made by composer Mort Garson.
Few characters in early electronic music can be both fearless pioneers and cheesy trend-chasers, but Garson embraced both extremes, and has been unheralded as a result. When one writer rhetorically asked: “How was Garson’s music so ubiquitous while the man remained so under the radar?” the answer was simple. Well before Brian Eno did it, Garson was making discreet music, both the man and his music as inconspicuous as a Chlorophytum comosum. Julliard-educated and active as a session player in the post-war era, Garson wrote lounge hits, scored plush arrangements for Doris Day, and garlanded weeping countrypolitan strings around Glen Campbell’s “By the Time I Get to Phoenix.” He could render the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel alike into easy listening and also dreamed up his own ditties. “An idear” as Garson himself would drawl it out. “I live with it, I walk it, I sing it.”
But as his daughter Day Darmet recalls: “When my dad found the synthesizer, he realized he didn’t want to do pop music anymore.” Garson encountered Robert Moog and his new device at the Audio Engineering Society’s West Coast convention in 1967 and immediately began tinkering with the device. With the Moog, those idears could be transformed. “He constantly had a song he was humming,” Darmet says. “At the table he was constantly tapping.” Which is to say that Mort pulled his melodies out of thin air, just like any household plant would.
The Plantae kingdom grew to its height by 1976, from DC Comics’ mossy superhero Swamp Thing to Stevie Wonder’s own herbal meditation, Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants. Nefarious manifestations of human-plant interaction also abounded, be it the grotesque pods in Invasion of the Body Snatchers or the pothead paranoia of the US Government spraying Mexican marijuana fields with the herbicide paraquat (which led to the rise in homegrown pot by the 1980s). And then there’s the warm, leafy embrace of Plantasia itself.
“My mom had a lot of plants,” Darmet says. “She didn’t believe in organized religion, she believed the earth was the best thing in the whole world. Whatever created us was incredible.” And she also knew when her husband had a good song, shouting from another room when she heard him humming a good idear. Novel as it might seem, Plantasia is simply full of good tunes.
Garson may have given the album away to new plant and bed owners, but a decade later a new generation could hear his music in another surreptitious way. Millions of kids bought The Legend of Zelda for their Nintendo Entertainment System back in 1986 and one distinct 8-bit tune bears more than a passing resemblance to album highlight “Concerto for Philodendron and Pothos.” Garson was never properly credited for it, but he nevertheless subliminally slipped into a new generations’ head, helping kids and plants alike grow.
Hearing Plantasia in the 21st century, it seems less an ode to our photosynthesizing friends by Garson and more an homage to his wife, the one with the green thumb that made everything flower around him. “My dad would be totally pleased to know that people are really interested in this music that had no popularity at the time,” Darmet says of Plantasia’s new renaissance. “He would be fascinated by the fact that people are finally understanding and appreciating this part of his musical career that he got no admiration for back then.” Garson seems to be everywhere again, even if he’s not really noticed, just like a houseplant.
-Andy Beta
Tirez Tirez’s Story of the Year documents a key transitional period as bandleader Mikel Rouse moved from Kansas City’s underground scene to downtown New York. Formed in the mid-1970s, Tirez Tirez blended new wave, minimalism and experimental pop, earning early attention while opening for Talking Heads and gaining support from figures including David Byrne.Originally released on Les Disques du Crépuscule, Story of the Year combines earlier Tirez Tirez material with later sessions recorded in New York and Brussels. The album captures Rouse’s early system-based approach, using layered rhythms and phased repetition that would later inform his development of totalism. Positioned between post-punk and contemporary composition, it catches a band in transition and an artist on the verge of a new direction.
From his early releases as Lusine onward, Jeff McIlwain’s electronic explorations make up one of the more diverse discographies of the past decade and a half. Effortlessly blurring the lines between techno, electro-pop and experimental composition, the Texas-raised/Seattle-based producer’s arrangements are meticulously constructed, but also filled with emotion and soul. With an introspective turn that’s hinted at in the record title, Lusine’s fourth album for Ghostly sees McIlwain diffusing the pop-leanings of 2013’s The Waiting Room with opaque, brush-stroked melodies washing over these new buoyant productions. “I suppose the concept behind Sensorimotor pulls from a special kind of double meaning of the word,” McIlwain reveals. “The literal, to me, is the integration of your senses with actions, like with birds and how they move so fluidly in flocks. It’s just fascinating how their brains are able to comprehend such quick actions collectively at once.” “The symbolic is a bit harder to put into words,” he adds. “I guess it’s just the concept of figuring out how much control you have over your artistic output—what types of restrictions you should place on it versus how much of it just involves instinct and intuitiveness.” Indeed, Sensorimotor is a visceral album, with gorgeous opener “Canopy” slowly building into an empyrean cloud of music box chimes and an amorphous thrum. The following “Ticking Hands” is just as beguiling yet also more formed, with the processed melancholy vocals of McIlwain and his wife Sarah filtered into a chilling lament that unfolds over the song’s light skitters and Kraftwerkian pulse. “Sarah and I wrote this song (“Ticking Hands”) as a kind of catharsis for the time we spend apart when I’m touring,” McIlwain explains. “It’s about the idea of being somewhere and wishing your other half was there to experience those moments.” Sensorimotor finds other past Lusine collaborators returning as well, with longtime friend Benoît Pioulard’s narcotic croon looped into a swirling arpeggio during “Witness.” Vilja Larjosto also makes two appearances, with her sun-kissed vocal melodies spliced and splayed across the steady pulsing bass and fluorescent synth pads of “Just a Cloud,” and later on “Won’t Forget,” delivering a breathy processed melody atop a jaunty shuffle of cut-up woodwind instruments and keys. Working with an arsenal that includes an MPC1000, a borrowed Prophet 5, hand percussion, glockenspiel, as well as field recordings and samples of live instruments, McIlwain’s productions often merge the digital world with the real world. Yet from the fluttering Terry Riley-esque samples of woodwinds in “Chatter” to the epic, widescreen synths of “The Lift,” Sensorimotor is surprisingly cohesive throughout. Its ebb and flow forms a musical narrative that’s as much a Lusine album as it is a soundtrack for the listener’s own imagination.
Connecters Vol. 1: Original Recordings, 1992–1999 marks the first public release by Larrison, the recording alias of Midwestern visual artist and musician Larrison Seidle. Composing, programming, and recording entirely on a Casio CZ-5000 during the halcyon days of early '90s homespun exploration and experimentation, Larrison inhabited a dreamworld of his invention, soundtracked by space age pop vignettes speckling with hypnotic, ebullient layered synthesizer melodies. Unfolding across 26 tracks, all newly restored and mastered from the original sources, Connecters Vol. 1 reinvents itself, song by song, transcending time and defying the fated obscurity of this brilliant, discreet music made three decades ago.
With Réminiscences (2017–2019), Jean-Claude Éloy embarks on an ambitious journey through memory, transformation, and pure listening. This vast electroacoustic cycle—comprising Incantation, Confrontation, Contemplation, and Oppression-Libération—draws deeply from the sound world of his seminal work Yo-In. Éloy recycles and reworks electroacoustic materials originally created at the Institute of Sonology (Utrecht, 1979/1980) and incorporates an extraordinary archive of percussion samples recorded at his request by Japanese percussionist Sumire Yoshihara at NHK’s Electronic Music Studio in Tokyo, as well as contributions from Gaston Sylvestre and Michael Ranta. Unlike the original 1980 version—conceived as a sound theater for an imaginary ritual and realized with the participation of Michael W. Ranta—Réminiscences is conceived as a purely electroacoustic experience, liberated from the constraints of live performance. Éloy focuses on the most distinctive sources: boat sirens, natural phenomena (volcanoes, wind, rain, waves), African bird calls, industrial noises, and a wide palette of metallic, wooden, and skin percussion. The result is a celebration of sound itself—an acoustic ritual where each work explores a specific theme through the metamorphosis of its materials. Éloy’s intent is to draw the listener into a heightened state of auditory perception, encouraging a deep concentration on the sonic phenomena at the heart of the music. Réminiscences stands as a testament to his lifelong exploration of the power of listening and the transformative potential of electroacoustic art. Produced at Studio Eve-Défense, the composer’s home studio, and presented in a 5-panel digipak with a 24-page booklet, this release is both a culmination and a renewal of Éloy’s creative universe.
Subtitled: Primordial Vibration / Sound ceremonial with a contemplative character. Composed in 1983-1986. Sound ceremonial with a contemplative character for two voices of Japanese Buddhist monks (traditional Shômyô techniques - traditional temple chanting - in a larger, modern and creative form), three Japanese Gagaku instrumentalists (traditional court music in a modern and creative form), one percussionist (with a percussion instrument orchestra) and electro-acoustic (fixed interactive sounds). Electronic studio of the Sweelinck Conservatorium, Amsterdam (1984-86). With Ebihara Kôshin (Tendai sect): solo voice, Arai Kôjun (Shingon sect): solo voice, Yaotani Satoru: Ô-Hichiriki solo, Shiba Sukeyasu : solo Ryûteki, Miyata Mayumi: Shô solo, Ô-Shô, Alto-Sheng, Michael Ranta : solo percussions, Jean-Claude Eloy, electro-acoustic (sound projection, general coordination, mixing). Studio recording made during the Donaueschingen festival 1990 (Donaueschinger Musiktage) by the SWF (Südwestfunk), Baden-Baden. First World publication. Presented in a small box of 3 x CDs with 60 pages booklet.