MUSIC

As far as we know, or at least can discern from those letters and records published after his tragically early death at the age of 40, the author Franz Kafka had two great love affairs. The second, with journalist and translator Milena Jesenská, has been widely celebrated in the decades since the collected, one-sided Letters to Milena was compiled and published. In it, we see what must be the total store of his warmth and passion – everything lacking in his disorienting, menacing fictions. The Milena letters, strange and hot and highly questionable as they are, remain a source of fascination and inspiration for Kafka fanatics, erotomaniacs and historians alike.

Unfortunately, their intellectually salacious reputation means those Letters far overshadow an earlier, thicker, darker volume penned by Franz K to his first great love and one-time fiancée, Felice Bauer, a relative of his lifelong editor Max Brod. While Kafka’s real-life story is one of brutal sexual failure and alienation before, during and after these two longer-term relationships, he managed a depth of written intimacy with both of these women most accurately described as harrowing. This tendency to expose himself most in moments of bitter melancholy is far more apparent and striking in the collected Letters to Felice.

This cold zoetrope, which conceals and reveals at accelerated frame-rates, eventually making a complex picture from an endless sequencing of small repetitive gestures, is the scaffold supporting Aris Kindt, the ongoing two-piece ‘post-structuralist pop’ project from Francis Harris and Gabe Hedrick. With Now Claims My Timid Heart, Harris and Hedrick continue the experiment started on Swann and Odette, crafting closed systems that promote a hushed correspondence between their sonic (Basic Channel, drone metal) and literary influences (Kafka, Sebald, Pynchon).

Their commitment to this insular, architectural thesis resolves itself yet again with a record that manages to be simultaneously alienating and deeply human. This is largely due to the novel and particular ways the band achieves its trademark sound: For Timid Heart (their first record since 2017 as well as their first release on NYC’s Quiet Time Tapes), Harris eliminated much of music’s normal dependence on physical space, instead creating hermetically sealed sonic ‘rooms’ where the songs can live by sending samples and loops through convolution reverb. Each of the eight tracks on Timid Heart is fundamentally, thus, a field recording from an inaccessible world.

Nowhere is this more apparent than on ‘Letters to Felice,’ which contains some of the album’s most Kafkaesque, dystopian atonality, as well as the most obvious influence of storied producer and engineer Phil Weinrobe (Adrienne Lenker, Big Thief), who oversaw mixing for the record. This is about as upbeat as Aris Kindt gets; listening closely and taking into consideration the Rembrandt painting that gave the band its name, one can only hear the ravings of the human heart in a biomechanical sense. Not the stuff of love letters, but the operating table; not throbbing with lust, but electricity. It is the sort of music that begs the listener to remain at a slight remove for their own safety, to avoid going out in the way that desire, once sated, also ceases to be.

Now Claims My Timid Heart is, in this way, both a continuation of and an advancement upon Swann’s speculative emotional landscape; it maintains the band’s mystic sense of intimacy while simultaneously moving it in a more interior, cautiously analytic direction. Like viewing the Aris Kindt of Rembrandt’s masterpiece, or the vulnerabilities of Kafka on the private page, Timid Heart feels at times like getting a peek into an autopsy in progress. Simultaneously raw and clinical, it pulses inside the listener, encouraging retreat – if only into oneself.

Ambre Ciel is a composer and singer who hails from Montreal, Canada and is a purveyor of dreamy, expansive, spacious music that draws influence from contemporary classical influenced artists, as well as the impressionist world and American minimalists.

Ambre who sings in both English and her native French, hails from a family of singers and artists, “I started my journey learning violin at six and began experimenting with pedal effects and looping melodies later on”. University followed with a focus on composition and recording. “That’s when I started exploring composing and songwriting more deeply—both the world of sounds in itself and songs built mostly with layers of violin and voice. It was also during this time that I returned to my ‘first’ instrument, the piano, which opened more harmonic possibilities.”

Her debut album still, there is the sea, represents a beginning, a first and imperfect attempt to create this other world that was living in her mind. She has crafted a beautifully refined album making a lot of space for strings arrangements and other acoustic instruments, as well as her own beautiful voice.

studio mule is proud to announce the latest release from one of japan’s most respected producers and musicians, kuniyuki takahashi.

this new single was created with the atmosphere of our listening bar studio mule in mind, and showcases kuniyuki’s unmatched ability to bridge dance music with sophisticated musical expression.

the a-side, “open window,” is a modern classical piece inspired by the light and breeze flowing into his sapporo studio—an uplifting, deeply moving composition. on the b-side, “tobira” offers a dreamlike journey of ethnic new-age jazz, evoking the sensation of stepping into a new world.

kuniyuki is a rare artist who has continued to push boundaries across genres, and this release is no exception—a future classic in the making. the artwork has been designed by yoshirotten, a leading figure in tokyo’s contemporary art scene.

with this release, studio mule delivers an inspired response to the timeless legacy of ecm, while continuing to explore new musical horizons.

Time and duration are core themes in the work of both William Basinski and Janek Schaefer, and this long-distance collaboration took a suitably long gestation of eight years from start to finish. In that time, our collective perception of time has at times become disorienting. “ . . . on reflection ” remodels that instability as an exquisite work of art – one that is unmoored by time or space. Limitation breeds creativity, revealed as an expression of minimalism and close focus. Deploying a delicate piano passage from their collective archive, Basinski and Schaefer weave and reweave in numerous ways, forging an iridescent flurry of flickering melodies. The sounds of various birds heard from late night windows on tour can occasionally be heard throughout, ricocheting off mirrored facades, reflecting on themselves as they continually reshape their own environments with song. “ . . . on reflection ” looks backwards, a bustling revelry of positive emotions heard through the aging mirrors of memory. It is a celebratory meditation where sound shimmers through time like the light of the sea’s waves glistening as it folds and unfolds upon itself. Created 2014-2022 between L.A. & London. Mixed at Narnia, Walton-on-Thames.

Four pieces by Estonian composer Arvo Pärt, a pioneer of “holy minimalism.” The album centers around a never-before-released rendition of “Silentium,” the second movement of Pärt’s most famous concerto, Tabula Rasa, performed by Boston-based chamber orchestra A Far Cry. The group plays “Silentium” at nearly half the speed of the best-known version, released on ECM in 1984. The piece, known for its healing properties for the dying and often used in palliative care facilities (one patient famously called it “angel music”), is breathtaking at half speed, seemingly stilling time itself.

The album compiles some of the most stunning renditions of Pärt’s music ever recorded. “Vater Unser (Arr. for trombone & string ensemble)” is somehow warm and austere at once. A miniature epic. Pianist Marcel Worm’s solo version of “Variationen zur Gesundung von Arinuschka” is as beautiful as anything we’ve ever heard. “Fratres for Strings and Percussion” is one of Arvo Pärt’s most celebrated works. The Hungarian State Opera Orchestra’s version is iconic, filled with emotional playing right on the verge of overly romantic, but never tipping over.

Pärt’s approach to both music and life is as sparse as the compositions he creates. He once said, “I have nothing to say… Music says what I need to say. And it is dangerous to say anything, because if I’ve said it already in words there might be nothing left for my music.” Silentium continues Mississippi Records’ fascination with this great contemporary composer. 

Deeply tied to the composer’s own life, the narrative of Lacrimosa invites reflection in the face of loss. This sonic work draws inspiration from Alice Coltrane’s spiritual Eternity (1976) as well as the traditional structure of the Requiem, a mass for the dead. One of its sections, the Dies Irae, evokes Judgment Day and concludes with the Lacrimosa (literally, “full of tears”), depicting the weeping of souls in search of salvation.

In Lacrimosa, Low Jack transforms autobiographical elements into a messianic, polyglot form, unfolding across eight movements that chart the storms and serenity of grief. The piece unfolds from dawn to dusk, as the eyes open and then close. An initiatory solar cycle, from which one returns like Dante in his Divine Comedy, transcendent yet grief-stricken by the loss of a guiding presence.

Low Jack crafts one of his most intimate compositions, weaving together musical archetypes and universal narrative structures, drawing from both classical lyrical music and pop standards.

The Danish/Norwegian duo of Ida Urd and Ingri Høyland believe that music is an extension of one’s immediate sensory environment. Duvet, their collaborative full-length debut, explores the way that creating sounds together is intertwined with various quotidian actions: establishing surroundings, rearranging furniture, moving towards the light, collecting flowers or other objects for aesthetic and sensuous impulses. Through a quiet and attentive process, music becomes a way of nurturing space: a soft architecture for play, writing, care, or simply rest.

Sonically, Duvet feels like an extension of Høyland’s last album, 2023’s Ode to Stone, which also featured Urd along with ambient musician Sofie Birch and visual artist Lea Guldditte Hestelund. But where that album, created in response to an open call for work themed around Denmark’s national parks, suggested rolling landscapes and endless horizons, Duvet turns inward, countering chill winds with glowing warmth. Its eight tracks seek a balance between abstraction and melody, intention and happenstance.

“We had a truly inspiring and rewarding process working with Birk Gjerlufsen Nielsen from Vanessa Amara, who co-produced and mixed the album with us,” Ingri adds. “He approached the material with great care and sensitivity, while also bringing his own distinct presence and creativity into the sound.”

Høyland and Urd both studied at the Rhythmic Music Conservatory in Copenhagen, which has turned out many acclaimed artists over the past few years, including Erica de Casier, Astrid Sonne, and Smerz. Over many years, the two composers have developed a collaborative method based on connection and trust. A practice, they write, “where composing, or rather suggesting, sounds and melodies for one another is a way of carefully talking, mending emotions and obstacles. Saying yes to one another. The compositional space becomes a nest for entangling whatever emotions, thoughts, or barriers one of the composers brings to the given day or moment.”

Quiet and contemplative, Duvet is simple on the surface but rich in timbral, textural, and emotional complexity. Høyland and Urd sourced their sounds from an array of instruments and techniques—electronic devices, modules, pedals, and also electroacoustic treatments of various wind instruments. Mixing primarily through analog tape units added further mystery and depth, weaving together wordless voices and unknown sounds—breathing, rustling, perhaps the coppery gleam of Urd’s electric bass—into a dynamic matrix. Like a nest, pull one twig and the whole thing unravels.

In the winter of 2023, Ingri Høyland and Ida Urd retreated to a summer house along the coast to create the album. Picture the scene: an abiding quiet all around. Gardens carpeted by snow; beach grass silvery against the silvery sky; a tendril of smoke rising from the chimney. Not another soul in earshot. This sanctuary was the perfect setting to yield this meditation on shelter, trust, and communication. The two composers hope the album can be a similar space for others—a temporary space of residence, it can represent a summerhouse, a cabin in the woods, your favorite bench or wherever you need to go. “The album also works really well when picking out apples in the supermarket” Urd laughs.

A new longform commissioned work for any ensemble of four similar instruments. The definitive string quartet version of 'Long Gradus' is available as a 2LP and CD, and the collection of all four arrangements (strings, woodwinds, brass & organ, choir & electronics) is presented as the 'Long Gradus: Arrangements' 4CD set.

'Long Gradus' began in 2020 when Sarah Davachi was selected to participate in Quatuor Bozzini’s Composer’s Kitchen residency, which was to be a joint production with Gaudeamus Muziekweek in the Netherlands. With the postponement of the residency to the following year, the composer was given the opportunity to take a step back and look at the piece over a much longer period of time than would have ordinarily been possible. The resulting longform composition in four parts, written in its initial form for string quartet, was developed as an iteration of an ongoing preoccupation with chordal suspension and cadential structure. In this context, horizontal shifts in pitch material and texture occur on a very gradual scale, allowing the listener's perceptions to settle on the spatial experience of harmony. A system of septimal just intonation helps to further the production of a consonant acoustic environment. 'Long Gradus' uses a formalized articulation of time-bracket notation alongside unfixed indications of pitch, texture, and voicing that allow the players some discretion in determining the shape of the piece. A sense of pacing that is markedly different from that of mensural notation emerges accordingly, while the open structure of the composition results in each performance having a unique and unpredictable configuration.

The piece may be arranged in a quartet format for any instrumentation that can alter its intonation with some degree of accuracy or produce a natural seventh harmonic. Substitution of the string quartet with other instruments as desired or imagined, both acoustic and electronic, is entirely acceptable and indeed encouraged. To this end, Davachi has also offered the 'Long Gradus: Arrangements' 4CD set, which includes the string quartet version as well as arrangements for woodwinds, brass and organ, and choir and electronics. A 'gradus' is a sort of handbook meant to aid in learning a difficult practice; in this case, 'Long Gradus' is designed to considerably slow the cognitive movements of both listener and player, and to focus their attention on the relationships between moments. A rich harmonic landscape that is constantly shifting and which changes with each engagement is the listener’s return. For the player, 'Long Gradus' is an invitation to practice active listening and to immerse oneself in the stillness of psychoacoustic space and time.

Davachi comments: “I owe a huge debt of gratitude to Quatuor Bozzini for the opportunity to go through this process together, which is exceedingly uncommon in the context of chamber music. Typically, when writing for an ensemble or orchestra, the composer is given very few, if any, occasions to actually adjust their work in a meaningful way outside of perhaps one or two brief rehearsals of an essentially final score. It is extremely rare and an enormous luxury to begin with simple sketches or ideas and to actually construct a piece over a period of several months or more from a place of sonic assurance – that is, being able to listen and to explore and to continually fine tune in response to the sound itself, in conjunction with the performers. Part of the reason that my earliest compositional efforts arose within the domain of electroacoustic and acousmatic music is because of the control that it offered, to intuit sound in real time rather than through the indirect interpretation of future sound in the form of a score. Even now, when I compose work for chamber ensembles, I typically always start from a recorded version or from a demo – from the sound itself – and then work backwards to generate the score that will result in that music. It seems to be a vestige of conservatory thinking to view music performance, even in relation to new music, as a kind of reading of notes on the page that simply results in things just falling into place as expected. But, when the music goes beyond what’s on the page to include a dialogue with the acoustic space of the performance, and to require a certain patience and concentration on part of the performers, there needs to be a different approach; the Composer’s Kitchen residency offered that respect and curiosity.” 

Léo Dupleix returns to Black Truffle with Round Sky, a graceful continuation of his exploration into just intonation following Resonant Trees. Performed by Asterales — a quartet comprising Dupleix (analogue synthesizer, harpsichord, spinet), Jon Heilbron (double bass), Rebecca Lane (quarter-tone flute) and Frederik Rasten (guitars) — the album offers three distinct yet connected compositions marked by poise and harmonic clarity.

Side one’s ‘Poème d’air’ unfolds as a slow-moving study of low frequencies and harmonic resonance, its steady cycles of bass and synthesizer chords gradually illuminated by flute and guitar. The second side introduces two shorter works: ‘Ghosts’, where harpsichord patterns expand and dissolve amid a haze of bowed strings and sustained tones; and the title piece ‘Round Sky’, written in the countryside and performed as a duo for spinet and guitar with soft, wordless vocals. Here, Dupleix’s music reaches a state of quiet radiance — methodical in structure yet open to pure, unguarded beauty.

Heith is the alias of Milan-based artist and musician Daniele Guerrini who crafts a mesmerising and ritualistic subterranean soundscape, a resonant and eclectic collage of distinct sonic elements: from celestial percussion intertwined with jarring, mechanical oscillations to haunting vocals atop murky dubbed-out beats.Exploring the textures of consciousness through research into the ritual animism, he kept an omnivorous and universalist approach to cultural and sonic influence. This is central to X, wheel, Heith’s debut album and first release on PAN. It’s a deep dive into his creative and spiritual practice, one where art and life are inextricable. The Liars Tell..., on the other hand, feels like a kind of respite, a moment of meditation and pause from the fatigue of dimension-hopping. As if the traveller dismounted their carriage and, standing puzzled on a crossroad, listened to the echoes of distant places. Occupying a liminal space and letting thousand of contradictory tales form the lyrics to one unfathomable song.

Terre Thaemlitz and Zeitkratzer, two noted and highly-respected names in experimental music. This release finds the Zeit guys meeting Thaemlitz on Terre’s terms, adapting and performing pieces from Deproduction with acoustic chamber instruments. Recorded live in Berlin last year, spreading over two CDs.視聴-Admit It's Killing You (And Leave) (Sound/Reading for Gay Porn) (Live Version)
視聴-Names Have Been Changed (Sound/Reading for Incest Porn) (Live Version)

Latency presents the first-ever arrangements of iconic Ethiopian composer Emahoy Tsege Mariam Gebru’s music for piano and strings, honoring her desire to broaden the interpretation of her work beyond the piano.

Led by pianist, composer, and Emahoy’s friend Maya Dunietz, a nine-piece string ensemble performed her compositions during two tribute concerts at the Bourse de Commerce in Paris, in April 2024. This album celebrates the centenary of Emahoy’s birth and commemorates the first anniversary of her passing.

The album marks the culmination of a journey that began nearly two decades ago, in 2005. While browsing a London record store, pianist and composer Maya Dunietz and conductor Ilan Volkov discovered a CD by Emahoy Tsege Mariam Gebru, released as part of the acclaimed ‘Éthiopiques’ series. Intrigued, they sought out the esteemed musician, eventually locating her in a small monastery in Jerusalem. Their initial meeting blossomed into a deep, lengthy conversation. Emahoy recounted her life in the monastery and the challenges of making music in that setting. They delved into her music, discussing it in great detail. When they asked Emahoy about notation, she invited them to read her notebook, which contained compositions written that very morning. Maya and Ilan played some on the piano. At that moment, Emahoy began to trust them. Before leaving, Maya wrote her phone number in Emahoy’s notebook and invited her to call if she ever wanted or needed anything.

A few years later, the call came: Emahoy invited Maya to the monastery, handing her a couple of wrinkled old Air Ethiopia plastic bags filled with hundreds of her composition manuscripts. She asked Maya to help create a book of her piano compositions, making them accessible to people around the world. Faced with such a monumental undertaking, Maya partnered with the Jerusalem Season of Culture to embark on this ambitious project. This collaboration resulted in the publication of a book of sheet music and a collection of essays in 2013, as well as numerous concerts performed worldwide. These concerts, along with Maya’s work on Emahoy’s music, grew from a deep bond of love and mutual respect between the two women.

During one of their many meetings, Emahoy mentioned her dream of arranging her songs for orchestral instruments. She remarked that it was too late for her, but, with her trademark smile and a wink, suggested: «Maybe you could do it?» For Maya, this tremendous compliment became the catalyst for all the string arrangements she would create for Emahoy’s beautiful music—arrangements now collected in this album after years of collaboration and discussions between Maya and the record label Latency.

This album celebrates the centenary of Emahoy Tsege Mariam Gebru’s birth and commemorates the first anniversary of her passing. All compositions were recorded during two tribute performances at the Bourse de Commerce in Paris, held in April 2024 in her memory.

On the 6th of October 2023, the release date of her third solo album ‘Ghosts’, Hania Rani organised a special album release concert with a string ensemble in a very unique location - Witold Lutosławski's Concert Studio at the Polish Radio in Warsaw. “Over the years, the spaces of Polish Radio became an important part of my life - both privately and professionally. I visited it for the first time as a student of Chopin University of Music and came back to make my first recordings in late 2018, just before the release of the debut album ‘Esja’. Since then I have been a regular guest.” The building is located in the Mokotów district in Warsaw and has served generations of musicians and sound engineers for decades. For Hania it is a home from home; a beloved recording studio but something more important and resonant too. Nostalgia does more than just present a memorable concert; it celebrates a space and an idea as through the mediums of photography and recorded sound. Hania creates something profound and enlightening. “Some months after this special concert in Studio S1 I came back to the chambers of Polish Radio. This time not as a musician, but as an observer. It was one of the coldest Mondays of January and Warsaw was adorned with fresh, plush snow. The building seemed completely empty, so I was able to navigate freely with my camera from space to space without interruption. I relished each object and each room waiting patiently to be consumed by a film roll. The obscure lighting was putting things in a subtle movement, the strong white beams were making them still again” Through Nostalgia, Hania presents the studios in her own perspective, as somewhere unique and unknown. A place of work, but something more. A place of ghosts and hidden meanings, of inspiration and mystery; The deluxe LP comes with a 16-page booklet featuring Hania’s unique analogue photos, along with her thoughts on the recording process, studios, and the compositions themselves. The CD includes these photos in a beautifully glued-in 12-page booklet.

Originally released in 1995 as the seventh entry in New York label Instinct Records’ Ambient series, Terre Thaemlitz’s landmark work Soil returns in a deluxe 30th anniversary 3LP edition. Far from a nostalgic reissue, this masterpiece resurfaces as a warning flare, illuminating the musical and political tensions of the post-1990s era. Eschewing MIDI synths and samplers in favor of computer-based synthesis, Thaemlitz set out to dismantle the supposed neutrality of ambient music. Across just intonation, cut-ups, drill sergeant vocal fragments, and sensually charged solo piano, the album traverses forms and aesthetics that resonate with later generations such as Sarah Davachi and Kara-Lis Coverdale. One can also glimpse the seeds of themes more fully developed on 2017’s Deproduction—critiques of patriarchy and the violence embedded in social structures. A monumental document of critical sound art, Soil remains piercingly relevant today.

Minecraft - Volume Alpha is the work of German composer and musician Daniel Rosenfeld. Using C418 as his moniker, Rosenfeld crafted the sweeping soundtrack and vibrant sound design which helped breathe life into Minecraft's voxel-based universe. Fans and critics were universally enamored with his beatless, nuanced electronic pieces upon release. Popular gaming site Kotaku named it among The Best Game Music of 2011, calling the music "remarkably soothing," and The Guardian has compared Rosenfeld's delicate piano and sparse ambient motifs to legendary artists Erik Satie and Brian Eno. In an interview feature with C418, Polygon distilled Volume Alpha to its essence: "It's not bound by the retro aesthetic of Minecraft's graphics. It transcends them. The album is an attempt to uplift the combined game/music experience into the sublime."

The self-titled album by Spool, the collaborative project of Berlin-based sound artist and ambient composer Florian T M Zeisig—known for his deeply moving Music For Parents, dedicated to his insomniac parents—and performer/artist Angel Paradise, has arrived via Somewhere Press. Glassy, delicate particles of sound drift like snowflakes through a quiet winter night, casting a gentle, ethereal glow. Layers of piano, field recordings, and microscopic synth textures unfold into a sound world suspended between memory and dream. Warm, intimate drones align with the rhythm of breath, while faint melodies linger like whispered thoughts. At times naïve, at times reverent in their embrace of emptiness, these eight tracks resonate with a profound introspection. A crystalline embodiment of contemporary ambient aesthetics—where silence and tenderness converge.

Soft piano notes kiss trippy electronic tones: “Kossaiko”, the only collaborative record that japanese piano player Saiko Tsukamoto and globally known electronic producer Kuniyuki Takahashi ever produced, is an unmissable profound soft classic music burner.

Together they composed and produced an eight-chapter strong deeply absorbing narrative, whose enthralling story arc dives profound into authentic drama zones, that sound like they jumped right out of a Claude Sautet movie.

Originally released in 2007 as cd only, the perfectly put together longplayer now enters the world for the first time in a vinyl edition that is tragically hip. deeply starry-eyed composi-tions full of minimalistic piano melodies that creep, twist, and dance around unobtrusive electronic notes who never call the tune, but always elevate the spectacle into higher elec-tronic spheres.

In the center of each between five- and nine-minutes long composition is the piano play of Saiko, gently hitting the keys, giving space to each note to vibrate in an endless “Pauline Oli-Veros” way, drifting until the very last sound vanish. around them, Kuniyuki plays his charming electronic tricks, opening the space for tones that sometimes pulsate, sometimes flow the ambient way.

Furthermore, occasionally a guitar notes pop up or accordion melodies cover the sorcery with a severely romantic veil.

Modern classical music, that has no fear of electronic meltdowns, that embraces digital tones while staying organic in its very inner circle.

A wise man once said: when words leave off, music begins. Those who fall for the eight poems of Saikoss will lose their speech and in return get pleased all agitations of their soul.

The latest album from Horse Vision, the experimental indie rock unit based in Stockholm and crafting music across Europe, now arrives on vinyl. Positioned at the intersection of pop/indie sensibilities and dreamy electronic ambient, the record quietly dwells on themes of “everyday fluctuations and the slippage of memory and emotion.” Its intimate, introspective sound—shaped by post-rock and emo influences—feels attuned to the stillness before dawn or the moments when city lights continue to flicker. A graceful work where rich imagery emerges through resonance and ambiguity, filling the quiet spaces within the listener.

Misha Hollenbach, a Melbourne, Australia-based DJ who has previously released excellent mixtapes on Good Morning Tapes, is part of the fashion, art, and design label/publisher P.A.M., which he co-founded with his wife and creative partner, Shauna Toohey, He is also a member of P.A.M, a fashion, art, and design label/publisher co-founded with his wife and creative partner, Shauna Toohey.

One of the universal experiences of life on Earth is staring, neck craned, at the cosmos. The vastness of one’s internal life meets the vastness of space, and in that moment those perspectives fuse in a state of wonder and curiosity. Space As An Instrument, the new album by French artist and musician Félicia Atkinson, invites listeners to explore the phantasmic landscapes created in such transformative encounters, when the mind is open and receptive to its environment. Like being absorbed by the immensity of the night sky, this music dilates the imagination and helps us to sit comfortably in the mystery of the ineffable. We are guided through Space As An Instrument by the piano, its a linear story told through restrained, iterative melodies that become entwined with the sounds at the music’s margins - a wisp of electronics, a pinprick of an enunciated consonant. They were recorded on Atkinson’s phone, which was placed next to the keys, or behind her, with the sound of the room bleeding through to give a sense of the place and time of the encounter. She describes these sessions as meetings where she and the piano commune to co-create these spiraling phrases and vaporous dissonances moment by moment. Complicating this dynamic is the presence of digital pianos, which exist in the surreal space of diodes and LED displays. They act as avatars of their three-dimensional counterparts: nowhere and everywhere simultaneously. Still, the inhabited world of people, water, and wind can be heard throughout Space As An Instrument. Often these recordings are integrated into the backdrop of electronics, or reduced to the sound of movements whose physical forms are obscured: the microphone straining against a forceful gust on “Sorry,” arhythmic footsteps traversing an invisible terrain on “Pensées Magiques.” These field recordings take us to the brink of synesthetic experience, allowing us to glimpse with our ear the topography of the imagination. But Atkinson’s music resists any kind of singular perspective on the scene, or any distinct conclusion. “It doesn’t explain anything,” she says, “but it translates the way I perceive it, somehow.” Atkinson is a polymath by nature, engrossed in a variety of daily artistic practices that nourish one another. In her garden, she performs the slow work of cross-species relationship building, cultivating an ideal space for introspection and further creation; many of the album’s vocal and electronic elements were recorded there. Poetry, which she prizes for its capacity to render the everyday tools of meaning-making more enigmatic, becomes folded into the music as well. She paints as often as time allows. One personal limitation Atkinson finds in painting, the rendering of perspective, has become one of her music’s defining characteristics. The vantage point of the listener is slippery and undefined, with sounds at once appearing gigantic and minuscule, distant and immediate. This phenomena is central to “Thinking Iceberg,” a 13-minute piece that was whittled down from an hour and a half performance, who remain only a ghostly presence on the album’s recording. Atkinson wrote the piece in response to Olivier Remaud’s book Thinking Like An Iceberg, in which the philosopher assigns agency to these massive, endangered objects and imagines how they might perceive their millenia-long relationship to humans. Stoic synthesizer tones percolate while water flows just out of the immediate frame with a disarming clarity and presence. As the piece crests, Atkinson’s whispered voice emerges softly, placed right against the listener’s left ear, contrasting with the billowing mass of sound that otherwise dominates. We emerge with a glimmer of awareness of how immensity and delicacy can coexist as time and humanity extract their toll. Félicia Atkinson says her music exists “on the verge of understanding and not understanding,” which often precludes such literal interpretations. But in that nebulous space there is humility and openness, and perhaps enough empathy to understand the consciousness of a massive, frozen chunk of water. With the listener’s perspective diffused into many different vantage points, how might that, too, become a vehicle for the development of compassion? As we listen, we encounter the wisdom that there is meaning not just in the experience of the sublime, that radical juxtaposition of limitlessness and intimacy, but also in the continuum of countless individuals that have taken the same journey.

California’s Nico Georis has always straddled (or, rather, negotiated) multiple dimensions. As a child, Georis flitted between the rigors of classical training and DIY experimentation—studying under a disciple of Franz Lizst (a mentorship that would enshrine the piano as his primary instrument), then squirreling away to the basement of his childhood home, strewn as it was with his father’s instruments and home-audio equipment, to play and record freely. Despite his evident virtuosity as a trained pianist, Georis has, across numerous projects, stints, incarnations, and chapters, persisted in this gentle and exploratory approach to music-making. Foregoing the pursuit of technical mastery and acclaim within the confines of the contemporary classical world, he has dedicated his talents to songcraft, broadly-defined — channeling unseen (or inaugurating altogether new) worlds through melody and repetition. Conceived after an isolating, five-year struggle with a severe case of Lyme disease, Cloud Suites (out June 9th on Leaving Records) documents Georis’s initial return to experimental ambient keyboard compositions. Conceptually, there is little ambiguity here: the songs—the “suites”—are clouds, or, rather, reflections of clouds, each named after a particular formation. Track titles range from the meteorologically specific to the expressive: “Cumuloids,” “Sundog,” and “Soft Yellow Gazers.” Georis composed the suites in real-time, peering out the windows of his Big Sur cabin-home/recording studio (dubbed The Sky Shed), responding improvisationally to render specific clouds as music—in effect to pluck them from the sky. Georis has referred to this process as a kind of musical game, and, indeed, its end product conveys the recurring and joyful revelations of play. But for a project born of levity and improvisation, Cloud Suites’ path to realization has been winding—harrowing, even. Over three years in the making, the recording process was beset by all manner of technological and environmental setbacks, ranging from broken equipment to a mudslide that tore through the Sky Shed. Nevertheless, even as other projects saw fruition (see 2022’s beautifully elegiac Desert Mirror) the Cloud Suites continued to gestate. When circumstances finally aligned, Georis entered the studio with a rag-tag collection of tape recordings. Performing over these Cloud demos, Georis would eventually weave these initial recordings into finished tracks, an analogue collage/cut-up approach recalling his childhood basement experiments, and his long-time affinity for Dub. Morphing seamlessly across eleven tracks, Cloud Suites functions wonderfully as a record (that is to say, as a discrete release—a standalone musical artifact), but one also senses the limitlessness of the project. Having stumbled, largely by accident, upon this inviting dimension (at once bracingly psychedelic and achingly nostalgic), Georis may not wish to close the door behind him. Or maybe it isn’t his door to close.

Recommended for fans of modern classical music like Another Timbre and Elsewhere! Okkyung Lee is a Korean cellist and improviser who has collaborated with Christian Marclay, Steve Beresford, Phil Minton and many other big names. is out now on Shelter Press! It's from a rather unexpected label. A dreamy chamber music ensemble featuring Okkyung Lee (cello), Eivind Opsvik (bass), Maeve Gilchrist (harp) and Jacob Sacks (piano). The avalanche of sentimental melodies and gentle, melancholic touches, wrapped in a myriad of aspects from chamber to spiritual jazz and folk music, also evoke the beauty of the pull and the aesthetics of "pause" that are common to Japanese environmental music/ambient music by Satoshi Ashikawa and Hiroshi Yoshimura. Mastered and cut by Rashad Becker at Dubplates & Mastering.

Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith, Emile Mosseri, and Ghostly will be making a donation from today’s Bandcamp Friday sales of their collaborative album, I Could Be Your Dog/I Could Be Your Moon to support reproductive rights via Noise For Now. "His music filled me with the urge to connect with the world," Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith says of Emile Mosseri. She first heard his work while watching the 2019 film The Last Black Man In San Francisco; just minutes in, she paused it to look up who did the score and wrote to him immediately. "I love Emile's ability to create melodies that feel magically scenic and familiar like they are reminding you of the innocence of loving life.” Those talents saw recognition in 2020 with an Oscar nomination for Mosseri’s original score to the film Minari. He was already a fan of Smith’s and became increasingly intrigued by her impressionistic process as they started to talk. "The music feels so spiritual and alive and made from the earth," Mosseri says. "I think of her as the great conductor, summoning musical poetry from her orchestra of machines." I Could Be Your Dog / I Could Be Your Moon, their two-part collaborative album, introduces an uncanny fusion of their sonics. Constructed using synthesizer, piano, electronics, and voice, this soft-focus dream world is lush, evocative, and fleeting. It finds two composers tuning their respective styles inward as an ode to mutual inspiration, a celebration of the human spirit and its will to surrender to the currents of life. Early into their correspondence, Smith and Mosseri realized they were neighbors in Los Angeles and met up for a few hikes. Their conversations led to a musical exchange over email. The exercise became a sketch, the start of their first song together, "Log In Your Fire,” with Mosseri finding flourishes in Smith’s cathartic synth lines to intonate and harmonize alongside. Lyrically, it's a beautiful, open-ended sentiment. "Being a log in someone's fire, to me, means letting go, and surrendering to that feeling," says Mosseri. From there, the pair composed a series of musical foundations, trading files from afar, nurturing the eventual expansion as the remote days of 2020 set in. Smith likens the collaborative experience to the exciting uncertainty of starting a garden, "doing what I can to facilitate growth while enjoying the process of being surprised by what will actually grow." In the summer of 2021, the duo finished work on the sequel, I Could Be Your Moon, expanding their musical language as the first part reached its September release. Songs from these more recent exchanges find them even more synced, forging into percussive and harmonic experiments, leaning further into their “unused musical muscles,” as Smith and Mosseri put it. A unified vocal presence emerged. “As the friendship grew I think we both learned how to support each other more and musically that was communicated through singing together,” adds Smith. Now taken as a full album set, I Could Be Your Dog / I Could Be Your Moon moves fluidly from track to track, panning through textural vignettes. Two roughly 17-minute halves, the set evokes the bittersweet sense of something too bright or rare to last, a short-lived glimpse into a golden hour. "Moon In Your Eye" sends a choral refrain skyward; we stay behind, watching it haze away in the heavens. "Brush" bubbles with Smith's characteristic wonder and curiosity, expressed in a flutter of horn-like sounds, leading into the album's central expression, its titular track. Above pulsing harmonies, in his tender falsetto, Mosseri repeats variations of the mantra, "I don't want to feel / lost anymore /I can’t make you what I am." He says the idea they are reaching for is more abstract and universal, "It could mean I could be your friend / buddy, I could be someone / something else, I could transform, I could be your companion, etc. What I like about it is it could change based on what that means to you, or what the word dog means to you." The orchestral march of 'oohs and ahhs' on "Blink Twice” could register as both triumphant and tragic. "Moonweed," strays closer to the latter, with low and slow piano keys guiding the alien hums of a starlit goodbye. I Could Be Your Moon, the second installment and side B of the record, opens with the striking “Green To You.” Depicting a dream or a need for renewal — to be new in the eyes of another, all excitement of seeing and being seen as imagined, idealized versions of ourselves — the song unveils the duo’s newly fused voice. “I only want to be green to you,” they sing, as an organ phrase swirls underneath. There’s a wistful sense that bleeds into instrumental “Amber” and continues across “Standing In Your Light,” a piano ballad-turned-mini-symphony that traces over feelings of remorse (“I was distracted / overreacted… come to your senses”). “Shim Sham” starts woozily in anticipation before flipping on a drum break, becoming the collection’s energetic apex; their hums dance with the beat, wordless yet undoubtedly expressive. Once introduced, the percussion stays and syncopates for “Golden Cow,” another radiant duet that reads like a playful plea, or a reminder to their creative selves (“slow down / be careful now / you’ve done this one before”). The record ends inside “Radio Replacement,” a swan song in the lineage of somber album outros; lyrically they reflect on past loves and the passage of time, personifying the music (“I would really love to be / your favorite melody / for a while”). There is a dreamy, elemental intention to this music, which Smith and Mosseri say came naturally, as they both embraced intuitive interplay throughout their creative back-and-forth. The stylistic threads of each composer are recognizable yet become more ambiguous as the album progresses, sewn into a singular vision. "I'm so grateful that my musical ideas could dance with hers with some grace and harmony," says Mosseri. Smith adds that this experience helped her "remember that music can be a connecting layer of friendship, especially in a time when the usual ways were out of reach."

From Recital:

"Recital is joyed to publish the newest record by Canadian composer Sarah Davachi. Currently working on her PhD in Musicology at UCLA, her trajectory has been unorthodox. Hailing from Calgary, Alberta, which, if you've never been there, doesn't really scream "Avant-Garde" (Calgary is the rodeo capital of the world). From a young age, Sarah was a driven pianist (and figure-skater, although that's a story for a different time). It is important and interesting that she chose to study esoteric music; as Sarah could have easily been a cowgirl or a concert pianist had her ingrained love of synthesis and sonic phenomenology not taken the wheel.

Sarah is a considered person. I find few people that have the diligence and resolve to take their time with music... especially in a live context. I respect that about her. The first time I saw Sarah perform, I presumptuously told her that her music reminded me of my favorite Mirror albums (the exceptional project of Andrew Chalk and Christoph Heemann). Sarah was not familiar with Mirror, so the compliment was initially lost on her. Years back I was in the same situation when a review compared my music to Andrew Chalk, who was unknown to me at the time. So I felt a kinship in our magnetic drift towards unspoken and clustered beauty.

Let Night Come On Bells End The Day follows the release of her "sound-wheel" LP All My Circles Run, which examines the isolation of different instruments. Let Night Come On..., recorded mainly with a Mellotron and electronic organ, feels like a return to the nest. Burrowed in the studio, Davachi was the only performer on this album. She both splays her compositional architecture and re-contextualizes the essence of her early output. She chiseled careful and shadowed hymns; anchors of emotion.

Two pillars of this album are "Mordents", which to my ears drops hints of her love for Progressive rock music - and "Buhrstone," comparable to a sombre funeral march of piano and flutes. These two examine punctuations of early music, gently plucking melodies and movements. The three other compositions are tonal works, blowing slow jets of lapping harmonics.

Writing this description now, I find it hard to separate "At Hand" from filmmaker Paul Clipson, who made a melancholic film for this piece of Sarah's. A fitting title for Sarah and Paul's relationship - frequently working in orbit of each other, meticulous and tactile. I cherish this track as a memory of Paul.

This is a lovely album to fill an evening living room with. A blanket, a cup of wine, a dim bulb, a wide window."