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Akashaplexia is the culmination of Merzbow and John Wiese’s decades-long partnership, offering over three hours of new music across four CDs. Recorded together in Tokyo, the album balances Merzbow’s psychedelic intensity and Wiese’s meticulous sonic architecture, presenting a vast and intricately detailed landscape of noise, improvisation, and unpredictable dynamic shifts.
Akashaplexia stands as the first full-length studio collaboration between Merzbow and John Wiese, captured in December 2024 at Sound Studio Noah, Tokyo. This box set - designed by John Wiese and elegantly housed in a casewrap slipcase - is remarkable in both ambition and presentation, packing more than three hours of newly forged material on four separate discs. The album’s creation is rooted in a history that stretches over 25 years, encompassing live sets and mail collaborations that have shaped a deep mutual vocabulary between the artists. From Smegma to Sissy Spacek, Wiese has paired with Merzbow through varied musical guises. Both artists maintain core positions within experimental sound and improvisation. Merzbow continually evolves: from his early days of acoustic tape work and improvisatory noise, through the extremes of the 1990s, into an era marked by digital sound and a blend of crude metal scrapings with heady psychedelia. Wiese, for his part, navigates the terrain between rigorous composition and volatile concrète techniques, mixing electronic surges with refined tape collage, and driving performances that stretch the boundaries of sonic drama.
On Akashaplexia, Merzbow’s layered, dynamic noise architecture collides and interlocks with Wiese’s textural sophistication and firey manipulation. The result is a rich landscape where raw, energetic blasts are counterbalanced by moments of deliberate compositional control and intricate collage. Tracks move fluidly between abrasive crescendo and atmospheric detail, giving listeners a chance to experience both artists’ strengths in full scope. Thresholds of sound are tested and extended, expectations upended, and each piece invites attention to both the smallest detail and the overall immersive force of the album. This set marks a new pinnacle for both Merzbow and John Wiese, and for the wider world of experimental music. Akashaplexia is not only about noise but the construction and transformation of sound itself - where raw intuition and calculated artistry become indistinguishable, and the music, in all its extremity, reveals new terrain.
“All possible processes. All channels open. Twenty-four hour alert." This Heat’s eponymous debut album, also known by fans as the 'blue and yellow', is a masterpiece of experimentation. This Heat's exploratory practice was based on extended collective improvisation that incorporated not just guitar and drums, but also viola, melodica, organ, household objects, and broken toys. They used tape machines to stretch the fabric of time and creative mic placement to warp space. They were fuelled not just by formal restlessness but also by rage at consumer society. Although widely considered to be Post-Punk’s finest, This Heat had actually begun performing at the start of London’s punk era. They developed new strange and volatile strains of avant-garde music that time has proved to be hugely influential, a blueprint for much that would follow. Featuring material recorded as early as their first public performance on 13th February 1976 and compositions that appear on the 1977 BBC Peel Sessions, their debut album was finally released in 1979.
Rabit takes his DJ Screw worship to heavily absorbing trip hop levels on a magnum opus of codeine-soaked tape loops and creeping vapours, including a guest spot from Lolina. By any measure it’s his strongest solo LP - huge RIYL Tricky, BoC, Croww, The Caretaker, Andy Stott, Basinski, Lynch & Badalamenti. In the decade since a debut album on influential witch-house label Tri Angle, Rabit has become a singular figure at the intersection of US rap, weightless grime and experimental electronic music, defining his sound on a string of crooked albums, DJ Screw-indebted mixtapes, and jams with everyone from Chino Amobi to Croww, besides production work for Björk and Boy Harsher. Perhaps notable by his absence in recent years, the Texan producer has clearly spent his time well in the studio, refining and adapting his process and distilling thoughts to analog tape loops for ‘Stranger in a Strange Land’; a heavily immersive half hour of sublimated, super groggy pressure that we’ve spent months wrapped up in and can 100% confirm its sandman potency. Logically, he derives from a formula of DJ Screw x Basinski x ‘Old Tapes’-era BoC something that transcends the sum of its parts, yielding a real go-to album primed for wake ’n bake times or, conversely, the far ends of the night - basically liminal music for heavy lids, carefully sequenced in a way that quietly displays all his stripes and unfolds its function with uncanny efficacy. Feels like a spoiler to say, but the closing ‘Ghost’ piece of chopped ’n screwed Badalamenti vibes, slowing and dusting a snippet of ‘Twin Peaks’-type intrigue & stuff, is arguably his finest moment in 14 years of releases, and the perfectly memorable kiss-off or denouement to an album that remains lodged in mind long after it’s finished. No doubt, it’s one of the year’s great albums so far.
Treasured slow motion trance rustlers Full Circle rack up a decade of remixes for the likes of Vox Populi!, 10LEC6, Tapan, and Die Orangen, plus a trove of unreleased goodies, on this limited edition mixtape, further to their much-adored albums and mixes for Good Morning Tapes and Offen Music. The eternal sunrise of late ’80s / early ’90s Goa dance & European proto-trance guides Alexis Le Tan & Joakim’s cult duo on their by-now trademarked style of chopped & screwed x Mediterranean drug chug hypno-bullets, pulling a broad range of source material into their own world of hazed offbeat grooves and arps with a rare je ne sais quoi that’s made their catalogue a proper cult property, fulfilling a need for this type of aerobic mysticism on modern dancefloors. As with their slew of Good Morning Tapes mixes and LPs it’s all arranged with a slick, sick, effortless aerodynamic, glyding between the likes of their subcontinental-slanted rework of fellow French psych-o-nauts Vox Populi!, and the remix for Die Orangen that really placed them on the map back in 2019. It’s never hurried, always zoned-in, flowing with a careful attention to the good of your trip and heavy as you like. The frisson is real!
Saphileaum has spent the past decade in passage between notable houses of atmospheric sorcery - Mule Musiq, Not Not Fun, Slow Life, Constellation Tatsu - and of course Good Morning Tapes, who now host their 3rd meeting, ‘Heavenly Hills’. A definitive chapter in his ten year saga, it is flush with symphonic strings and sky born keys, breezily urged by percussion that straddles chill out and folk zones. That said there’s also a Balearic - or should that be Black Sea? - appeal to its title tune, that lingers in the glistening wake of ‘Your Grace’, to the shimmering breaks of a parting piece ‘Alarko (Cosmic Eagle)’, falling into the space between Boards of Canada's cult-inspired hauntological nostalgia and Shackleton's hallowed ethno-dub. “The tracks in the album were written with the inspiration of the kingdom of Shambhala in the Himalayas. I'm deeply fascinated and touched by it. Even the album title, holds the idea of its Heavenly nature and the tracks are like individual, elemental parts of it. The album is not a journey into Shambhala, but rather a play and a dance with its energy, image and presence in my world. Alarko (Cosmic Eagle) is dedicated to my grandfather, Temur Tsiklauri, and I dedicate the whole album to my country Georgia, which I deeply love.”
‘Dimension Intrusion’ was the first full-length studio album by Richie Hawtin, who was 22 years old at the time and living in Windsor, Canada. It was first released in June 1993 under the F.U.S.E. name on Hawtin’s own Plus 8 Records imprint and again as the second release of Warp Records seminal ‘Artificial Intelligence’ series.
The album compiled previously released F.U.S.E. EPs from Plus 8 complemented with new music specially recorded for this release. It would be a fundamental album for the young producer, who was experimenting with different themes and techniques to find his very own sound. Largely inspired by sci-fi movies he used a collection of synthesizers and drum machines, playing with their electronic yet warm sound effects and in turn discovering some of his favorite instruments.
The tracks on ‘Dimension Intrusion’ range from club focused techno to soundtrack ambience and can be seen retrospectively as experiments leading to what would soon become Hawtin’s trademark acid laced Plastikman sound.
It was on this album that he first collaborated with his brother, Matthew Hawtin, presenting an original painting completed in 1992 as the album artwork. In fact the album title was derived from this painting’s title ‘Dimension Intrusion’, demonstrating the reciprocal inspiration shared between the brothers. The acrylic painting oscillates between the one and two-dimensional. The composition of geometrical beams in bold primary colors and sharp lines evokes electrically charged movement and progression in and out of different dimensions. The visual tension corresponds with the energetic rhythms of the music, furthermore, the abstract painting and techno music share machine-like precision whilst producing a sensual and emotionally triggering experience.
Dimension Intrusion’ is an iconic album in the history of electronic music that sets Richie Hawtin on a path of exploration and interest in the connection of audio and visual expression.
Infamously the first artist signed to Warp that used guitars, Seefeel return with their first full-length album in fifteen years – Sol.Hz - a beautiful, hazy and blissed out collection of fractured melodies and vaporous textures.
In some ways, this can be regarded as Seefeel’s ‘dub’ album – the deceptively cloud-like arrangements of Mark Clifford are somewhat ambient adjacent at low volume, but blasting out of a proper sound system, the cavernous bass undertow and skilful employment of effects are more apparent, messing with the listener’s perception of time and audio placement. As always with Seefeel though, it never drifts too far into cold experimentalism or synthetic texture, the heavily manipulated vocals of Sarah Peacock lending the tracks a vital human element, with processed guitar loops allowing slivers of melody to drift through the trails of delay.
Stylistically, it builds on their 2024 mini-album Squared Roots, in the way that the material has been microscopically dissected and reversioned until it reaches the perfect iteration, shape perhaps being the wrong word for a group who blur the lines between solidity and space to such a radical degree. The much-reappropriated line from The Communist Manifesto, “all that is solid melts into air”, could be used as shorthand to describe the experience of listening to a Seefeel record. The album title Sol.Hz can be translated literally as sun plus electricity, although the exact interpretation is ambiguous and left open to debate, just like Marx’s oft-quoted line.
Aphex Twin's masterpiece “Windowlicker” was released by Warp in 1999.
Carol Maia & Jeremy Gustin’s haunting collaborative album is the result of a long distance partnership during which tracks were traded back and forth across thousands of miles, Jeremy working from his home studio in Brooklyn and Carol from hers in Rio De Janeiro. Later they enlisted support from a number of key players in the Rio scene, Frederico Heliodoro, Paulo Emmery, Ricardo Dias Gomes, and from Brooklyn’s musical community, Will Graefe and Ryan Dugre, to shape this understated masterpiece of sophisticated global pop and quiet experimentalism. It's hard to describe what Carol, Jeremy and their guests have achieved on 'it's nice to see a lake in your eyes', a kind of pop music that stands outside of time and is neither Brazilian, American or of any other recognisable place. Maybe it's risen out of the lake they imagined into being? Maybe it's formed like rain in the thousands of miles of air between Rio and New York? Whatever happened was certainly alchemical as you will hear. Carol told me her writing on this record was greatly influenced by her reading of Marcelo Ariel's poetry book "A água veio do sol, disse o breu" so maybe the best thing to do to describe this music is to let you read one of his poems: A luz do ser é como a água também veio do Sol onde todos os planetas querem entrar Dentro do Sol O ser é imóvel como a gratuidade de um êxtase parecido com a respiração Fora do Sol o ser é móvel Tempo eternidade e tempo cronológico (Translation) The light of being is like water it also came from the Sun where all the planets want to enter Within the Sun Being is immobile like the gratuitousness of an ecstasy similar to breathing Outside the Sun Being is mobile Time eternal and chronological time
"The late 60's in Brasil produced an explosion of creativity that is still reverberating throughout the workd... and Os Mutantes (The Mutants) were the most outrageous band of that period. Their creative cannibalism produced psychedelic gems unlike anything else, and they sound as relevant today as anything happening anywhere. They were exactly what their name implies- a mutant genetic recombination of John Cage, The Beatles, and bossa nova. A creature that was too strange and beautiful to live for very long, but too strong to ever fade away. It lives again. Be prepared." - David Byrne
Recorded in Villa Sarkia (Sysmä, Finland) and Kisustudio, Vallila (Helsinki,Finland) during the years 2017-2020.
On Minimalistic ethio 80’s and 90’s from audiotapes የሐር ሽረሪት, DJ Mitmitta threads together lo‑fi synth jams and cassette‑era instrumentals from unsung Ethiopian bands, where battered Casios and drum machines sketch hypnotic, pastel‑toned echoes of wedding halls and roadside bars.Minimalistic ethio 80’s and 90’s from audiotapes የሐር ሽረሪት is a love letter to a very specific corner of Ethiopian music history: the moments on old cassettes when the singer leaves the room and the backing band just keeps going. Curated by DJ Mitmitta, the compilation gathers a “lovely bunch” of mostly instrumental cuts from various groups working in the 1980s and early ’90s, all of them leaning on Casio keyboards, drum‑machines and cheap synthesized timbres to stretch a mood across the standard 60‑minute tape. Some of these tracks began life as filler - end‑of‑album jams laid down to round out running time - yet heard together they reveal a parallel universe of minimal, hypnotic ethio‑electronics that was hiding in plain sight on the B‑sides and fade‑outs of the cassette era.The focus is squarely on groove and atmosphere rather than virtuoso display. Simple pentatonic keyboard lines snake over rigid drum‑machine patterns; bass figures loop with small variations until they become a kind of trance; cheap synth brass and organ sounds approximate the colours of traditional ensembles in an unmistakably 80s palette. What might have been background in its original context moves to the foreground here, letting the listener hear how these bands translated classic Ethiopian modal language into a bare‑bones, garage‑electronic idiom. There’s a homespun futurism to it all: you can feel the constraints of the machines and the tape, but also the pleasure of musicians pushing those limits just enough to make the dancefloor—or the living room—sway.Mitmitta’s selection highlights a cast of names that deserve to be said out loud. Among the players whose tapes are tapped here are ይስሃቅ ባንጃው (Yishak Banjaw), ዘሪሁን ወዳጆ (Zerihun Wdajo), እልፍነሽ ቀኖ (Elfenesh Kano), ቴዎድሮስ መኮንን (Tewodros Mekonnen), ወሰንየለህ መብራቱ (Wesneylehe Meberatu), ስፈልግ አያሌው (Seflege Ayalew) and ታደሰ ላቀው (Tadsse Lakew) - artists better known, if at all, for vocal releases, but whose bands clearly relished the chance to stretch out when the mic was off. Here, their anonymous interludes become the main feature, revealing shared aesthetic threads: unhurried tempos, gently melancholic melodies, a fondness for repetition that never quite tips into monotony.The physical edition underlines the project’s tactile, cassette‑culture roots. Cover art comes from Skinny Digital, given grain and texture through risoprinting by If By Magic in Helsinki, Finland, while each copy is dubbed onto recycled tapes by Jouni “Kasettijeesus” Kontulainen. That choice isn’t just a retro affectation; it echoes the very conditions that produced the music in the first place, when blank cassettes were precious, nothing was wasted, and “extra” minutes became a playground for minimal synth experiments in an Ethiopian idiom. Spooling through these tracks now, you hear not only a treasure‑trove of lo‑fi ethio grooves, but the sound of time itself stretching and fraying on magnetic tape - a small, crackling portal back to another listening culture.
After their last album six years ago, "Primal Forms," the new album by Phantom Horse, finally arrives. The German duo of Ulf Schütte and Niklas Dommaschk have long established a reputation for expertly crafted, hypnotically slow-burning electronic music, and we do not hesitate to say that "Primal Forms" stands among the epitomes of their discography. The sequencing of "Primal Forms" cannot be underestimated. It is an album in the classic sense. It demands to be listened to in its entirety, which also points to a closer affinity with Krautrock. Likewise, a touch of dub is perceptible, wafting around the songs, which, as usual, bear clandestine titles. It is not unreasonable to see in these compact compositions a clear statement against multitasking. Phantom Horse are not trumpeters of dystopia. They present themselves resolutely, almost stoically, turned away from the world. This turning away is clearly a statement that can be contemplated in the Mariana Trench as well as in comet belts. In any case, it is best experienced in a space without any human beings. This does not mean that grumpy hermits are tinkering with synths behind closed shutters, armed with wooden walking sticks. This is still open minded music with a connection to current developments. The approach itself is what is audible, and with it, Phantom Horse proves once again that their main connection to time is timelessness. In an age of all-encompassing distraction on every sensory, thematic, and semantic level, Phantom Horse explores the possibilities of reduction, searching for simplified melodic arcs without resorting to the vocabulary of classical minimalism. The overall impression is more electronic; the slowly shifting, polyrhythmic compositions repeatedly lead to a peculiar danceability. However, these are perhaps the dances of mechanical birds, undeterred by anything.
The Buenos Aires–based producer’s second album on Umor Rex can be read on at least two levels. The most direct traces its origin to the influence of environmental music, as well as to some pioneers of electronic music. The album was recorded in a single session, making extensive use of loops that were later edited and condensed into the six pieces that make up Pequeño clima doméstico. This working method responds to a playful approach that runs through Entidad Animada’s musical intentions, which often start from a specific genre or aesthetic and then filter it through his own language. From a more conceptual perspective, the record proposes music as a tool capable of modifying the perception of a moment. Rather than closed songs, the album functions as a device that allows one to tune a state, transform a space, or alter a mood. In this sense, it engages with the idea of functional music not as a utilitarian background, but as a means to equalize time, slow the pace, and reconfigure the listener’s emotional climate.
Following Additive Inverse, Jim O’Rourke and Jos Smolders reconnect across a series of studio sessions spread over three years. Working independently, they build a fluid exchange of material shaped by shared interest in the spectral qualities of sound.O’Rourke initiates the process using his Kyma System, generating source material that Smolders reworks through granular techniques. The results unfold gradually, drifting from dense, enveloping passages into irregular rhythmic forms and more inward, sparse sections.Rather than settling into fixed structures, the pieces remain in motion, with textures shifting from soft and diffuse to brittle and tactile. It’s a patient, exploratory work that emphasises process, detail and subtle transformation over time.
Music From Memory are thrilled to announce the forthcoming release of ‘Pastoral Blend,’ a new album from the duo of N Kramer and Magnus Bang Olsen (The Zenmenn).
Recorded in Berlin between August 2023 and March 2024, ‘Pastoral Blend’ combines Kramer's improvisational process and mastery of contemporary production techniques with Bang Olsen’s emotive pedal steel guitar playing. The creative process was anchored in capturing various phrases and patterns from the instrument, which were then reshaped, reversed, and layered intricately. This meticulous approach allowed a foundational track to emerge, upon which further arrangements and developments were sculpted. This process, which builds on Kramer's earlier work as Habitat (with J. Foerster, released on Leaving Records), gives the music a gentle asynchronous flow that feels uniquely live and organic.
Merging the warmth and intimacy of instrumental Americana with the glitchy, textural processing reminiscent of early 2000s Max/MSP and influential artists such as Fennesz and Alva Noto, ‘Pastoral Blend’ is a textured drift between analog warmth and digital fragmentation, a delicate equilibrium that duo navigate with remarkable finesse and an air of effortless charm. With titles like ‘Harvest', ‘Agrarian Dawn’, ‘Grasslands’, and ‘Weathered’, Kramer and Bang Olsen evoke a musical vocabulary steeped in themes of landscape, memory, and tradition; a vocabulary that gently alludes to the more familiar and traditional musical structures lying beneath the rich layers of sound. Herein lies the essence of the 'Pastoral Blend’.
‘Pastoral Blend’ will be released on LP and digitally on July 4th 2025. Sleeve art and design by Michael Willis.
Following June's brilliant 'Rhythm Archives', Holy Tongue's Al Wootton continues his hot streak, landing on Sähkö with half an hour of hazed, immersive rhythmic experiments, tracking from vintage dub(step) to minimal techno and confidently striding thru percussive forms that echo from the Balkans to North Africa. RIYL Shackleton, Azu Tiwaline, Muslimgauze, T++, Deena Abdelwahed.
Ever since he dispatched with the Deadboy moniker a few years back and reached into dubbier, more percussive spaces, Wootton's been figuring out exactly where his dexterous productions fit in.He's been most at home on his own Trule imprint, operating at his own pace and shaping the aesthetics as he goes, and 'Rhythm Archives' felt like a mark in the sand, a record that matched his interest in vintage gear and classic production methods with his dedication to wide-eyed, punkish experimentation. 'CRUX', his first record for legendary Finnish label Sähkö, follows that lead, assembling four long percussive jams that sound as if they've toppled off the timeline - if someone told us it was material rescued from a forgotten reel-to-reel, we'd believe it.
There's an outline of dubstep visible in the background on opener 'Essene' that's enhanced by the Skull Disco-esque sub-undulations and wormhole-splitting tape echoes, but the hollow hand drum runs and hallucinatory effects shuttle the composition into darker, more reflective landscapes. Similarly, the busted drum machine intro of 'Per Incanto' might reference Sähkö royalty Mika Vainio and Hertsi, but the track veers leftwards, muddling the mix with psychedelic African Head Charge-style reverberations and trapped, timestretched string loops. It's gear that's intended for deep, intentional listening; the tracks don't contain too much melodic content by design - Wootton's rhythms are layered and hypnotic, and anything else is there to reinforce the general spirit.
Just check 'Cloister', the EP's low-key stand-out, where the lead line is literally just tuned feedback, placed to disorient even the most abstinent listener, or 'Armen', that distorts its sputtering Bruce Haack-in-dub atmosphere with ghosted groans and faint remnants of a trip-hop undercurrent that never fully reached optimal pressure. If you've ingested all the psilocybin from Shackleton's recent run, this is yr next drop.
“No, without listening at doors, the ear captures noises here and there and unexpected sounds without choice, but remains attentive to the messages of each one picked up over the years. It gathers surprises and impressions, bringing them together in a simple mix. In waking up these ear memories again, which were mostly recorded on magnetic tapes, I am very happy about the collaboration of Eiko Ishibashi and Jim O'Rourke in playing on this mix tape.” Brunhild Ferrari
On the third day at Betty’s, Chris Rosenau woke up with a hangover. The night before, Nick Sanborn had played an all-electronics duo set with GRRL in the basement of a Durham club called The Fruit, so Rosenau—his friend for two decades, occasional collaborator for half that span—had tagged along. They were, they half-joke, the two oldest people in the club, so they went at least a little bit hard. Flip this record over, and there’s Rosenau that night, vodka and soda (with limes, please) in hand and looking delightfully impish. The next morning, in the middle of making their second record together, they were a little slow to wake, even slower to fully rise. In October 2017, Rosenau had flown from Wisconsin to North Carolina to spend a weekend recording with Sanborn in his little home studio. After years of knowing one another, their collaboration seemed inevitable but also accidental, a music-festival lark that had immediate chemistry. As they were rehearsing with the windows and doors open in those first perfect days of Southern autumn, they realized they were actually already making a record. They kept the working mixes and titles from that weekend, as well as the bird songs and traffic sounds that drifted into the microphones. The result was 2019’s Bluebird, a little five-track wonder that made you feel like you were sitting in the living room between the two, smiling as they found their wordless rapport. Two years later, as soon as Sanborn had set up the basics at Betty’s, his residential studio in the woods near Durham, Rosenau returned. They had fun during round two, but the sessions were neither as carefree as that first attempt nor more focused in a way that felt compelling and new. The pair decided to shelve those pieces for then and try again when the time seemed right. (They have, by the way, returned to those tracks fondly; expect to hear them in the future.) Then there was a pandemic. There were tours. There were other records. There was life at large. By the time Rosenau ventured back to Betty’s to try again, in February 2023, four years had flashed past. Both Sanborn and Rosenau came prepared this time by, well, un-preparing. Rosenau borrowed an unconventional guitar tuning he’d never tried (DAEAC#D) from a friend. And Sanborn dismantled his live Sylvan Esso rig, rearranged it, and added new bits, hoping to eschew any muscle memory for a real-time exchange with Rosenau. They instantly knew it was working, with none of the past’s second-guessing in tow. On that first day, a Thursday, they made “Ghost Sub” and “Harm.” On that second day, they had a false start with a piece called “Kay,” Sanborn’s synths not quite fitting beneath Rosenau’s riff, before moving on to make “Deltas.” (Once again to the cover: That’s the chord structure alongside Sanborn’s setup, superimposed on Rosenau’s face.) Back to that third day. When the pair finally got back to bleary-eyed work, they decided to give “Kay” one more go. Sanborn set the electronics aside and sat down at the piano. There was a false start, preserved here, but what followed was a sublime aubade, like waking up tired only to be stunned and stirred by the light suddenly outside. It is the sound of stirring to life and loving it there, and it is the little jewel at the center of the six songs they recorded that weekend, the six songs presented here in the exact order they made them. They finished “Two” just before Rosenau split for the airport on Sunday afternoon; it is a long goodbye, sweet and sentimental and sad, a last talk from two friends who have enjoyed their time together. At the end of “Gentleguy,” the first track on Bluebird, Rosenau, after a long pause, says, “I think that’s pretty good.” His voice is pitched up by a trace of uncertainty, as if “think” and “pretty” are the most important bits of that sentence. When “Deltas” wobbles to its beautiful end toward the middle of Two, Rosenau comes in again, his voice almost boisterous: “That was…” The tape cuts, but you don’t need to hear what he says to know what he says. That was good, perfect, the thing we were looking for, just right, pal. This is the way Two feels start to finish—two friends, firm on their footing with one another, digging into their beautiful exchange. Grayson Haver Currin Bar-K Ranch, Colorado October 2025
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)
Personal Computer Music, 1997-2022 is the culmination of Chapter Music’s ongoing reissue series for Jeremy Dower.
"Reclusive Melbourne electronic figure Jeremy Dower announces a quarter century-spanning compilation of previously unreleased music, split into halves to showcase his unpronounceable 90s ambient techno project Tetrphnm, as well as the wistful faux-jazz recordings made subsequently under his own name.
Inspired at first by austere German techno such as Monolake and Mouse on Mars, Jeremy’s sound world grew to take in influences as various as The Sea and Cake, Joao Gilberto, Jaki Liebezeit and Alain Goraguer. But Jeremy worked through these touchstones all alone on the other side of the world, improvising systems of “subtractive composition” via cheap 90s sound cards, 12 bit samplers and banked noise gates. His music evolved in a parallel but separate world to genres later called IDM or Microhouse, but really it sounds like nothing but Jeremy Dower – magically inventive, touching and personal. Efficient Space comped a Tetrphnm track on their much-loved 2018 compilation of 90s Australian electronica 3AM Spares. But Personal Computer Music, 1997-2022 is your first chance to explore Jeremy Dower’s compelling musical history with the depth it deserves."