MUSIC

"Here In, Absence" ("Here, In Absence" for the book) is the result of the dialogue between the Finnish photographer Mikael Siirilä and the music artists The Humble Bee & Offthesky initiated by IIKKI, between March 2023 and January 2024.

Being somewhere, while being somewhere else
A place I look for in other places
A moment on repeat
I made this music as a way to hug myself

All music performed and written by Ulla E. Straus

It Could Have Been A Beautiful by Aiko Takahashi In Wishlist view supported by Evangelos Evangelinos thumbnail joshua pearson thumbnail weichezaeune thumbnail 直之 関 thumbnail julien thumbnail Günther W. Albrecht thumbnail taphead thumbnail J. Di Fraya thumbnail Stephen Lee thumbnail hippiejohnny80 thumbnail wonung thumbnail J Glenn Taylor thumbnail Grumpy Bob thumbnail Mark Robinson thumbnail Jeffrey Capshew thumbnail sleight1217 thumbnail mahaprana thumbnail nate scheible thumbnail konejomusic thumbnail Stefan Nieuwenhuis thumbnail Scott Moore thumbnail nick0137 thumbnail Carly thumbnail Peter Duimelinks thumbnail Joe Rice thumbnail joalla thumbnail N.Shibata thumbnail 𓂀_The_Bandcamper_Whose_Name_Is_A_Symbol thumbnail Samuel McKahey thumbnail Paul King thumbnail kgkgkg thumbnail Burton Thomas thumbnail Mike Jedlicka thumbnail CaptainShwah thumbnail Dominik Böhmer thumbnail Katsuhiko Nojiri thumbnail Andy Maurer thumbnail telegrau thumbnail TheSlowMusicMovement thumbnail benoit richard thumbnail peppe trotta thumbnail Seb Chan thumbnail Headphone Commute thumbnail Sasha Frere-Jones thumbnail Juniperus Kaizuka thumbnail E-Lodie thumbnail Alex Ruder / Hush Hush Records thumbnail francis beaubois thumbnail toneshift thumbnail answer-beat thumbnail Tatti Persson thumbnail Joshua Minsoo Kim thumbnail Peter van Cooten thumbnail vouvounix thumbnail boates thumbnail wolfsdorf thumbnail luceman thumbnail Normando thumbnail spongewhale thumbnail Tim Newman thumbnail nzmn10293 thumbnail richmann thumbnail dan ichinose thumbnail scbl thumbnail t.amano thumbnail essentialyes thumbnail guillermoescudero thumbnail dbp thumbnail It Could Have Been A Beautiful Evening 00:00 / 06:31 Streaming + Download Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. €7 EUR or more Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album package image package image package image package image ---------------------------------------- • Glass Mastered CD • Selective UV varnish • Hand numbered / Limited edition to 200 copies, first and only edition (no re-press) ---------------------------------------- Includes unlimited streaming of It Could Have Been A Beautiful via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. ships out within 3 days edition of 200 €12 EUR or more Record/Vinyl + Digital Album package image package image package image package image ---------------------------------------- • Cutting lacquer • 12’’ yellow transparent vinyl • Selective UV varnish • Matt laminated outer sleeve on 300 gm paper, black inner with empty hole • Hand numbered / Limited edition to 300 copies, first and only edition (no re-press) ---------------------------------------- Includes unlimited streaming of It Could Have Been A Beautiful via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. ships out within 3 days edition of 300 €21 EUR or more Book/Magazine + Digital Album package image package image package image package image package image ---------------------------------------- • Hardcover book, 96 pages, 24 cm x 24 cm, 68 photos • Limited edition to 500 copies, first and only edition (no re-print) • Printed on Munken Print White 115g/m2 • Logo, slot and circle embossed • Selective UV varnish • Hand-numbered, hand-stamped ---------------------------------------- - DIGITAL DOWNLOAD INCLUDED ---------------------------------------- MORE PHOTOS/INFOS: www.iikki-books.com/iikki-022-it-could-have-been... more ships out within 3 days edition of 500 €48 EUR or more Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album package image package image package image package image package image ---------------------------------------- • Hardcover book, 96 pages, 24 cm x 24 cm, 68 photos • Limited edition to 500 copies, first and only edition (no re-print) • Printed on Munken Print White 115g/m2 • Logo, slot and circle embossed • Selective UV varnish • Hand-numbered, hand-stamped ---------------------------------------- • Glass Mastered CD • Selective UV varnish • Hand numbered / Limited edition to 200 copies, first and only edition... more ships out within 3 days edition of 200 €60 EUR or more Record/Vinyl + Digital Album package image package image package image package image package image ---------------------------------------- • Hardcover book, 96 pages, 24 cm x 24 cm, 68 photos • Limited edition to 500 copies, first and only edition (no re-print) • Printed on Munken Print White 115g/m2 • Logo, slot and circle embossed • Selective UV varnish • Hand-numbered, hand-stamped ---------------------------------------- • Cutting lacquer • 12’’ yellow transparent vinyl • Selective UV varnish • Matt laminated outer sleeve on 300 gm paper, black... more ships out within 3 days edition of 300 €69 EUR or more Full Digital Discography 22 releases Get all 22 IIKKI releases available on Bandcamp and save 60%. Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of It Could Have Been A Beautiful, Kurayami, Shadow's Praise, Our Recently Acquired Knowledge, Rustine, Queen Of Nowhere, In Vivo, Même Soleil, and 14 more. €61.60 EUR or more (60% OFF) 1. It Could Have Been A Beautiful Afternoon 16:30 2. It Could Have Been A Beautiful Evening 06:31 3. It Could Have Been A Beautiful Night 14:58 4. It Could Have Been A Beautiful Morning 19:46 about ___________________________________________________ • more INFOS/PHOTOS : www.iikki-books.com/iikki-022-it-could-have-been-a-beautiful • NOTE: track: "03 - It Could Have Been A Beautiful Night" is available only for the CD/Digital version. ___________________________________________________ "It Could Have Been A Beautiful" is the result of the dialogue between Aiko Takahashi (music) and the French photographer Edouard Elias initiated by IIKKI, between September 2022 and September 2023. the complete project works in two physical imprints: a book and a disc (vinyl/cd) it should be experienced in different ways : the book read alone the disc listened to alone the book and the disc read and listened to together.

It Could Have Been A Beautiful by Aiko Takahashi In Wishlist view supported by Evangelos Evangelinos thumbnail joshua pearson thumbnail weichezaeune thumbnail 直之 関 thumbnail julien thumbnail Günther W. Albrecht thumbnail taphead thumbnail J. Di Fraya thumbnail Stephen Lee thumbnail hippiejohnny80 thumbnail wonung thumbnail J Glenn Taylor thumbnail Grumpy Bob thumbnail Mark Robinson thumbnail Jeffrey Capshew thumbnail sleight1217 thumbnail mahaprana thumbnail nate scheible thumbnail konejomusic thumbnail Stefan Nieuwenhuis thumbnail Scott Moore thumbnail nick0137 thumbnail Carly thumbnail Peter Duimelinks thumbnail Joe Rice thumbnail joalla thumbnail N.Shibata thumbnail 𓂀_The_Bandcamper_Whose_Name_Is_A_Symbol thumbnail Samuel McKahey thumbnail Paul King thumbnail kgkgkg thumbnail Burton Thomas thumbnail Mike Jedlicka thumbnail CaptainShwah thumbnail Dominik Böhmer thumbnail Katsuhiko Nojiri thumbnail Andy Maurer thumbnail telegrau thumbnail TheSlowMusicMovement thumbnail benoit richard thumbnail peppe trotta thumbnail Seb Chan thumbnail Headphone Commute thumbnail Sasha Frere-Jones thumbnail Juniperus Kaizuka thumbnail E-Lodie thumbnail Alex Ruder / Hush Hush Records thumbnail francis beaubois thumbnail toneshift thumbnail answer-beat thumbnail Tatti Persson thumbnail Joshua Minsoo Kim thumbnail Peter van Cooten thumbnail vouvounix thumbnail boates thumbnail wolfsdorf thumbnail luceman thumbnail Normando thumbnail spongewhale thumbnail Tim Newman thumbnail nzmn10293 thumbnail richmann thumbnail dan ichinose thumbnail scbl thumbnail t.amano thumbnail essentialyes thumbnail guillermoescudero thumbnail dbp thumbnail It Could Have Been A Beautiful Evening 00:00 / 06:31 Streaming + Download Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. €7 EUR or more Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album package image package image package image package image ---------------------------------------- • Glass Mastered CD • Selective UV varnish • Hand numbered / Limited edition to 200 copies, first and only edition (no re-press) ---------------------------------------- Includes unlimited streaming of It Could Have Been A Beautiful via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. ships out within 3 days edition of 200 €12 EUR or more Record/Vinyl + Digital Album package image package image package image package image ---------------------------------------- • Cutting lacquer • 12’’ yellow transparent vinyl • Selective UV varnish • Matt laminated outer sleeve on 300 gm paper, black inner with empty hole • Hand numbered / Limited edition to 300 copies, first and only edition (no re-press) ---------------------------------------- Includes unlimited streaming of It Could Have Been A Beautiful via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. ships out within 3 days edition of 300 €21 EUR or more Book/Magazine + Digital Album package image package image package image package image package image ---------------------------------------- • Hardcover book, 96 pages, 24 cm x 24 cm, 68 photos • Limited edition to 500 copies, first and only edition (no re-print) • Printed on Munken Print White 115g/m2 • Logo, slot and circle embossed • Selective UV varnish • Hand-numbered, hand-stamped ---------------------------------------- - DIGITAL DOWNLOAD INCLUDED ---------------------------------------- MORE PHOTOS/INFOS: www.iikki-books.com/iikki-022-it-could-have-been... more ships out within 3 days edition of 500 €48 EUR or more Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album package image package image package image package image package image ---------------------------------------- • Hardcover book, 96 pages, 24 cm x 24 cm, 68 photos • Limited edition to 500 copies, first and only edition (no re-print) • Printed on Munken Print White 115g/m2 • Logo, slot and circle embossed • Selective UV varnish • Hand-numbered, hand-stamped ---------------------------------------- • Glass Mastered CD • Selective UV varnish • Hand numbered / Limited edition to 200 copies, first and only edition... more ships out within 3 days edition of 200 €60 EUR or more Record/Vinyl + Digital Album package image package image package image package image package image ---------------------------------------- • Hardcover book, 96 pages, 24 cm x 24 cm, 68 photos • Limited edition to 500 copies, first and only edition (no re-print) • Printed on Munken Print White 115g/m2 • Logo, slot and circle embossed • Selective UV varnish • Hand-numbered, hand-stamped ---------------------------------------- • Cutting lacquer • 12’’ yellow transparent vinyl • Selective UV varnish • Matt laminated outer sleeve on 300 gm paper, black... more ships out within 3 days edition of 300 €69 EUR or more Full Digital Discography 22 releases Get all 22 IIKKI releases available on Bandcamp and save 60%. Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of It Could Have Been A Beautiful, Kurayami, Shadow's Praise, Our Recently Acquired Knowledge, Rustine, Queen Of Nowhere, In Vivo, Même Soleil, and 14 more. €61.60 EUR or more (60% OFF) 1. It Could Have Been A Beautiful Afternoon 16:30 2. It Could Have Been A Beautiful Evening 06:31 3. It Could Have Been A Beautiful Night 14:58 4. It Could Have Been A Beautiful Morning 19:46 about ___________________________________________________ • more INFOS/PHOTOS : www.iikki-books.com/iikki-022-it-could-have-been-a-beautiful • NOTE: track: "03 - It Could Have Been A Beautiful Night" is available only for the CD/Digital version. ___________________________________________________ "It Could Have Been A Beautiful" is the result of the dialogue between Aiko Takahashi (music) and the French photographer Edouard Elias initiated by IIKKI, between September 2022 and September 2023. the complete project works in two physical imprints: a book and a disc (vinyl/cd) it should be experienced in different ways : the book read alone the disc listened to alone the book and the disc read and listened to together.

With a strong interest in geology and biology, Takahashi started imagining the landscape and life of the Earth in prehistoric times based on fossils and illustrated books, later used as inspiration for his compositions. At first sight, these images make it easy to envision the ecosystems and environments of prehistoric Earth as so distinct from those of today that they could almost be seen as different planets. Living through the pandemic, when Takahashi first started composing the songs, made him rethink his initial thoughts. “The Palaeozoic era was a time of extinction, of prosperity and decline. When I think ab out these facts from geology, they are quite spectacular. But I felt that this cycle is still happening today, b ut on a different scale. If you think about the time before Covid-19, people were very active and free to move around. It was with this in mind that I set about writing the music, imagining what it would be like to overcome the social upheaval of Covid-19." It's the similarities between his initial analogy and the new pandemic reality that ultimately formed the main context for Paleozoic. This led Takahashi to make an album which sonically reflected the sequence of Paleozoic: starting from a time when life flourished in the sea ,before the arrival of life on land, to the gradual arrival of plants and insects on land and the end of an era due to change. In order to create a more vivid representation of the life force and grandeur of nature, Takahashi decided to forgo his signature lo-fi production style of using GarageBand on his Iphone. For this, he enlisted the help of sound engineer, producer and Atoris bandmate Kohei Oyamada with the mix and arrangements, resulting in a highly evocative, expansive sound palette. “With his techno sensibility and sound engineering skills, he was able to bring me closer to the sound I've been chasing, which is full of mystery, life and images of a wild and simple time. This record is the first step in my work with him and the foundation for further progress." The result is a fascinating journey through imaginary landscapes infused with great dramatic affect and an acute sense for details across sweeping drones and electronic glistens.

The musical partnership of Joseph Shabason and Nicholas Krgovich orbits around a shared center of earnestness, slice-of-life poeticism, and the subtle everyday banality that becomes beautiful, even absurd, under their slight redirection. Where 2020’s Philadelphia placed domestic interiors under a microscope, documenting the indoor minutiae society was forced to examine mid-pandemic, At Scaramouche steps out into the sunlight squinting groggily and happily at the new day ahead-- and particularly the night that follows. One evening after a recording session and some aimless ambling that included a visit to the house where the 1974 movie “Black Christmas” was filmed, Krgovich and fellow vocalist Chris A. Cummings found themselves misplaced at the Toronto restaurant from which At Scaramouche takes its name, gawking with amusement at its concocted air of luxury. “The layout hinted at its MCM glory, and there was a panoramic view of the city,” Krgovich illustrates, “but it was full mid 2000s, dated Sex In The City re-run decor, ‘opulence’ for rich people with bad taste. I loved it! Chris loved it!”. On At Scaramouche, Krgovich and Shabason demonstrate a mutually uncanny ability to transmute this kind of cultural wariness into amused majesty, poking fun and bowing in reverence all at once. Their spotless smooth-jazz tonality, lyrical literalism, and even cover artist Jake Longstreth’s humorously sober depiction of an actual old Taco Bell building all point to the duo’s low-key-gonzo subversion of Adult Contemporary tropes into something unexpectedly transcendent. The first glassy keyboard hits of “Soli” indicate this sentiment before Krgovich even steps forward as the album’s host, and when he does, he immediately gets to work setting the scene of a weary parking lot stroll on a cool, street-lit evening after work-- just one of so many unremarkable moments that become utopic under Krgovich’s poetic care. “Clocking out at five PM, don’t give it another thought, feel the evening coming in,” he sings. “When it’s dark before supper, and the rain on the house… happy for no reason.” Glimmering pianos and brushy percussion calmly converse with fretless bass as a diffuse light spreads across this little world that’s being created. But where the duo’s previous effort Philadelphia would’ve camped permanently in the stillness, At Scaramouche lunges into the upbeat stroller “In the Middle of the Day”. Though no less exemplary of the album’s quiet everyday magic, it sets a brisker pace with its head-nodding drum break and coolly interjecting bassline. Other moments on the album reiterate the spryness, like the nearly-erratic “Soli II”, and the lively pop centerpiece “I Am So Happy With My Little Dog”. On the latter, Krgovich leads a tight-knit ensemble that comes as close to krautrock here as they ever might, where a driving drumbeat politely urges the elements forward; trumpet harmonies, chanting vocals, and bubbling synths, all crowned by a chorus-laden, perfectly askew solo from guitarist Thom Gill . “This record was very much a band effort. Me and Nick were at the helm but we called on the amazing crew of musicians that I play with here in Toronto to really help flesh things out,” Shabason emphasizes. “The last record was a real exercise in minimalism and quietness, and to me this record feels much more robust, and occasionally bombastic by comparison.” Joseph Shabason grew up in small-town Ontario, throwing punk and emo shows in garages and church basements as an alternative to “playing hockey or doing drugs,” as he states it. At the same time Nicholas Krgovich was 4,000 kilometers away in Vancouver, BC living the kind of suburban life that can, by necessity, imbue someone with romanticism toward the things downtown-dwellers might not bat an eye at, like the fluorescent glow of commercial lighting after-hours, or the overlooked poignancy of a rundown strip mall, and all the many thousands of tiny commonplace miracles that At Scaramouche is made of. “Childhood McDonald’s gone, there used to be some woods there,” Krgovich hums prosaically over a bed of soft drum machine and Dorothea Paas’s soft supporting vocals. “The cemetery was small,” he elaborates while noticing just how farz and how fast the past has receded, “now the high rises around the mall that aren’t done yet…” Where much nostalgia can slip down the slopes into something melancholy that puts the past on an impossible pedestal, album-ender “Drinks at Scaramouche” proves that Krgovich is just as in love with the present, allowing history and future to bring out the sacred in one another. “Finding all the little blips, in-betweens, now with deepening meaning,” he sings, “what little light goes slow, heartening to know that nothing really goes away.” Like so much that Shabason & Krgovich put their fingerprints on, At Scaramouche presents a familiar palette with just enough inflected weirdness to prompt double takes, turning folk art into outsider art with an almost imperceptible sleight of hand.

The musical partnership of Joseph Shabason and Nicholas Krgovich orbits around a shared center of earnestness, slice-of-life poeticism, and the subtle everyday banality that becomes beautiful, even absurd, under their slight redirection. Where 2020’s Philadelphia placed domestic interiors under a microscope, documenting the indoor minutiae society was forced to examine mid-pandemic, At Scaramouche steps out into the sunlight squinting groggily and happily at the new day ahead-- and particularly the night that follows. One evening after a recording session and some aimless ambling that included a visit to the house where the 1974 movie “Black Christmas” was filmed, Krgovich and fellow vocalist Chris A. Cummings found themselves misplaced at the Toronto restaurant from which At Scaramouche takes its name, gawking with amusement at its concocted air of luxury. “The layout hinted at its MCM glory, and there was a panoramic view of the city,” Krgovich illustrates, “but it was full mid 2000s, dated Sex In The City re-run decor, ‘opulence’ for rich people with bad taste. I loved it! Chris loved it!”. On At Scaramouche, Krgovich and Shabason demonstrate a mutually uncanny ability to transmute this kind of cultural wariness into amused majesty, poking fun and bowing in reverence all at once. Their spotless smooth-jazz tonality, lyrical literalism, and even cover artist Jake Longstreth’s humorously sober depiction of an actual old Taco Bell building all point to the duo’s low-key-gonzo subversion of Adult Contemporary tropes into something unexpectedly transcendent. The first glassy keyboard hits of “Soli” indicate this sentiment before Krgovich even steps forward as the album’s host, and when he does, he immediately gets to work setting the scene of a weary parking lot stroll on a cool, street-lit evening after work-- just one of so many unremarkable moments that become utopic under Krgovich’s poetic care. “Clocking out at five PM, don’t give it another thought, feel the evening coming in,” he sings. “When it’s dark before supper, and the rain on the house… happy for no reason.” Glimmering pianos and brushy percussion calmly converse with fretless bass as a diffuse light spreads across this little world that’s being created. But where the duo’s previous effort Philadelphia would’ve camped permanently in the stillness, At Scaramouche lunges into the upbeat stroller “In the Middle of the Day”. Though no less exemplary of the album’s quiet everyday magic, it sets a brisker pace with its head-nodding drum break and coolly interjecting bassline. Other moments on the album reiterate the spryness, like the nearly-erratic “Soli II”, and the lively pop centerpiece “I Am So Happy With My Little Dog”. On the latter, Krgovich leads a tight-knit ensemble that comes as close to krautrock here as they ever might, where a driving drumbeat politely urges the elements forward; trumpet harmonies, chanting vocals, and bubbling synths, all crowned by a chorus-laden, perfectly askew solo from guitarist Thom Gill . “This record was very much a band effort. Me and Nick were at the helm but we called on the amazing crew of musicians that I play with here in Toronto to really help flesh things out,” Shabason emphasizes. “The last record was a real exercise in minimalism and quietness, and to me this record feels much more robust, and occasionally bombastic by comparison.” Joseph Shabason grew up in small-town Ontario, throwing punk and emo shows in garages and church basements as an alternative to “playing hockey or doing drugs,” as he states it. At the same time Nicholas Krgovich was 4,000 kilometers away in Vancouver, BC living the kind of suburban life that can, by necessity, imbue someone with romanticism toward the things downtown-dwellers might not bat an eye at, like the fluorescent glow of commercial lighting after-hours, or the overlooked poignancy of a rundown strip mall, and all the many thousands of tiny commonplace miracles that At Scaramouche is made of. “Childhood McDonald’s gone, there used to be some woods there,” Krgovich hums prosaically over a bed of soft drum machine and Dorothea Paas’s soft supporting vocals. “The cemetery was small,” he elaborates while noticing just how farz and how fast the past has receded, “now the high rises around the mall that aren’t done yet…” Where much nostalgia can slip down the slopes into something melancholy that puts the past on an impossible pedestal, album-ender “Drinks at Scaramouche” proves that Krgovich is just as in love with the present, allowing history and future to bring out the sacred in one another. “Finding all the little blips, in-betweens, now with deepening meaning,” he sings, “what little light goes slow, heartening to know that nothing really goes away.” Like so much that Shabason & Krgovich put their fingerprints on, At Scaramouche presents a familiar palette with just enough inflected weirdness to prompt double takes, turning folk art into outsider art with an almost imperceptible sleight of hand.

Joseph Shabason, Matthew Sage, and Nicholas Krgovich form a pretty perfect triangle, musically and geographically. Based out of Toronto, Colorado, and Vancouver respectively, the three convened at Sage’s converted barn studio at the foot of the Rockies to diagram their kindred ability to extract grandeur from the most passable of life’s daily details. On his own, saxophonist Joseph Shabason warps late 80s adult-contemporary and smooth jazz aesthetics into tidepools of fourth-worldly sound design that are infinitely more self-aware and emotionally honest than any of their distant reference points. M. Sage, in a parallel sense, blends his skills as an instrumentalist with synthesis and field recordings to create auditory reflections of the natural world that are as whimsical as they are profound. Sitting cozily between these two heartfelt experimentalists is singer Nicholas Krgovich, whose observational slice-of-life poetics paint a relatable face onto his collaborators’ calm expressionism, both guiding and highlighting its deep sense of affect. The resulting album, prosaically titled Shabason, Krgovich, Sage warmly invites sound artist Matthew Sage into the world of wry and melancholy micro-miracles that Shabason and Krgovich established on 2020’s Philadelphia, and 2022’s At Scaramouche. Album opener “Gloria” is a perfectly balanced representation of the trio’s individual abilities. Sage’s slowed and watery zither bleeds in from the edges of the canvas, laying ground for breathy woodwinds and harmonica that pantomime a distant locomotive. Speaking directly to the sonics at play, Krgovich melodically narrates, “Penny, did you hear that train whistle? Theo, did you hear that owl hoo?”. Even from this first moment, the intimate dynamic is so palpable that the listener falls unwittingly into the backstory of Shabason, Krgovich, Sage. “After connecting with Nick and Jos through DMs since 2020, it felt like a fun experience awaited us as potential collaborators,” Sage recounts. “I had built my barn studio, and I think it looked appealing to them to make an adventure out of coming to the Wild West to make music with me.” After spending the majority of a decade immersed in Chicago’s legacy of jazz and experimental electronic music, Matthew Sage moved back to his home state of Colorado to raise a child in a more casually agrarian atmosphere, and to work in the kind of setting that led to his 2023 album for RVNG, Paradise Crick. It was here at the cusp of the Rocky Mountains that the initial push of Shabason, Sage, Krgovich began, in person. Making sense of the trek, Shabason adds “I have realized that making music with people who live very far away is a real possibility. As long as we can get into one space together for a short amount of time, the collaborative magic that is needed to make a record is totally possible.” The three artists’ fingerprints are equally visible across the album. There is soft textural detritus floating freely in the air, punctuated by glassy electric keys and rubberized basslines. The sparseness in the placement of all the elements leaves them subject to ghostly visitations from a whispery saxophone, and a gentle guitar that peers around the corners of Krgovich’s free-verse musings. The album’s midpoint “Don” passes overhead like pollen on the breeze, constantly drifting out and back across pockets of completely empty space. “Old Man Song” turns a rare B-side by Low into an even gentler end-of-life reflection that is sweetened by Krgovich’s falsetto during the track’s wordless chorus. As nebulous as that may seem on paper, the hidden songcraft slowly surfaces over the course of each piece, exemplified by the closing track “Bridget”. There are plenty of other moments of the album that bear discernible rhythms below the fogline, but it’s here that they rise up into a full-on groove under Krgovich’s lyrical fourth wall breaks in which he details everything from Joseph’s studio habits to seeing “Cats” at the theater with his sister. Despite the song’s relative density and pop sensibility, a careful use of space still reigns supreme. On the eleven-minute “Raul”, Krgovich comes close to unintentionally codifying this approach as he sings “The container shrinks, and shrinks again, with every day, the relief that comes from not wanting more...” Truly, the most abundant virtue on Shabason, Krgovich, Sage is patience. The trio interacts without interrupting one another, contently waiting their turns, all locked onto the same distant point on the horizon yet unconcerned with when they might actually arrive. The groundwork laid by Shabason & Krgovich on their previous joint offerings is omnipresent, but it’s amplified by the joy Sage must have felt shepherding them to his idyllic and intimate new homebase. Prior to meeting up with Sage, the pair’s music often dealt with the beauty of The Great Indoors, but their new host and collaborator has smartly refocused their lenses on the small wonders of wilder localzes. Like magic, Shabason, Sage, and Krgovich have not just musically photographed their surroundings, they’ve managed to reproduce them exactly. The sharp open air, the quiet thrill of an escaped routine, the self-reflective thought-loops during a twilit moment at the edge of a field, all of it’s here on Shabason, Krgovich, Sage. Through the trio’s skillful ease, the listener is there, too.

Joseph Shabason, Matthew Sage, and Nicholas Krgovich form a pretty perfect triangle, musically and geographically. Based out of Toronto, Colorado, and Vancouver respectively, the three convened at Sage’s converted barn studio at the foot of the Rockies to diagram their kindred ability to extract grandeur from the most passable of life’s daily details. On his own, saxophonist Joseph Shabason warps late 80s adult-contemporary and smooth jazz aesthetics into tidepools of fourth-worldly sound design that are infinitely more self-aware and emotionally honest than any of their distant reference points. M. Sage, in a parallel sense, blends his skills as an instrumentalist with synthesis and field recordings to create auditory reflections of the natural world that are as whimsical as they are profound. Sitting cozily between these two heartfelt experimentalists is singer Nicholas Krgovich, whose observational slice-of-life poetics paint a relatable face onto his collaborators’ calm expressionism, both guiding and highlighting its deep sense of affect. The resulting album, prosaically titled Shabason, Krgovich, Sage warmly invites sound artist Matthew Sage into the world of wry and melancholy micro-miracles that Shabason and Krgovich established on 2020’s Philadelphia, and 2022’s At Scaramouche. Album opener “Gloria” is a perfectly balanced representation of the trio’s individual abilities. Sage’s slowed and watery zither bleeds in from the edges of the canvas, laying ground for breathy woodwinds and harmonica that pantomime a distant locomotive. Speaking directly to the sonics at play, Krgovich melodically narrates, “Penny, did you hear that train whistle? Theo, did you hear that owl hoo?”. Even from this first moment, the intimate dynamic is so palpable that the listener falls unwittingly into the backstory of Shabason, Krgovich, Sage. “After connecting with Nick and Jos through DMs since 2020, it felt like a fun experience awaited us as potential collaborators,” Sage recounts. “I had built my barn studio, and I think it looked appealing to them to make an adventure out of coming to the Wild West to make music with me.” After spending the majority of a decade immersed in Chicago’s legacy of jazz and experimental electronic music, Matthew Sage moved back to his home state of Colorado to raise a child in a more casually agrarian atmosphere, and to work in the kind of setting that led to his 2023 album for RVNG, Paradise Crick. It was here at the cusp of the Rocky Mountains that the initial push of Shabason, Sage, Krgovich began, in person. Making sense of the trek, Shabason adds “I have realized that making music with people who live very far away is a real possibility. As long as we can get into one space together for a short amount of time, the collaborative magic that is needed to make a record is totally possible.” The three artists’ fingerprints are equally visible across the album. There is soft textural detritus floating freely in the air, punctuated by glassy electric keys and rubberized basslines. The sparseness in the placement of all the elements leaves them subject to ghostly visitations from a whispery saxophone, and a gentle guitar that peers around the corners of Krgovich’s free-verse musings. The album’s midpoint “Don” passes overhead like pollen on the breeze, constantly drifting out and back across pockets of completely empty space. “Old Man Song” turns a rare B-side by Low into an even gentler end-of-life reflection that is sweetened by Krgovich’s falsetto during the track’s wordless chorus. As nebulous as that may seem on paper, the hidden songcraft slowly surfaces over the course of each piece, exemplified by the closing track “Bridget”. There are plenty of other moments of the album that bear discernible rhythms below the fogline, but it’s here that they rise up into a full-on groove under Krgovich’s lyrical fourth wall breaks in which he details everything from Joseph’s studio habits to seeing “Cats” at the theater with his sister. Despite the song’s relative density and pop sensibility, a careful use of space still reigns supreme. On the eleven-minute “Raul”, Krgovich comes close to unintentionally codifying this approach as he sings “The container shrinks, and shrinks again, with every day, the relief that comes from not wanting more...” Truly, the most abundant virtue on Shabason, Krgovich, Sage is patience. The trio interacts without interrupting one another, contently waiting their turns, all locked onto the same distant point on the horizon yet unconcerned with when they might actually arrive. The groundwork laid by Shabason & Krgovich on their previous joint offerings is omnipresent, but it’s amplified by the joy Sage must have felt shepherding them to his idyllic and intimate new homebase. Prior to meeting up with Sage, the pair’s music often dealt with the beauty of The Great Indoors, but their new host and collaborator has smartly refocused their lenses on the small wonders of wilder localzes. Like magic, Shabason, Sage, and Krgovich have not just musically photographed their surroundings, they’ve managed to reproduce them exactly. The sharp open air, the quiet thrill of an escaped routine, the self-reflective thought-loops during a twilit moment at the edge of a field, all of it’s here on Shabason, Krgovich, Sage. Through the trio’s skillful ease, the listener is there, too.

Experiments In Psychoacoustics, Timbre & Minimalism: 2011-2021

Late Music and Disciples are pleased to present the first and second volumes in an archival series of selected electronic and acoustic works by Sarah Davachi, all previously unreleased in the vinyl format. Featuring (way) back catalogue material from various CDs, cassettes, and EPs; singles and original film scores; as well as miscellaneous live and studio recordings.

“Something for everyone”

Experiments In Psychoacoustics, Timbre & Minimalism: 2011-2021

Late Music and Disciples are pleased to present the first and second volumes in an archival series of selected electronic and acoustic works by Sarah Davachi, all previously unreleased in the vinyl format. Featuring (way) back catalogue material from various CDs, cassettes, and EPs; singles and original film scores; as well as miscellaneous live and studio recordings.

“Something for everyone”

Lerkenfeldt explores the hallucinatory nature of refraction alongside electroacoustic experiments in the storm water network on ‘Halos Of Perception’ (Shelter Press, 2023). Arrangement of new textures and web-like structure reveal another side to her immersive practice. With friends and guest artists eight works are remixed and represented as a suite for the drains ahead of her first European tour in 2024 on limited edition cassette.

Paige Emery is an ecological artist interweaving music, painting, and plants through healing rituals to explore ways of remembering the Earth. She catalyzes ritual to illuminate the way our practices co-write our cosmologies and to find cyclical resonances that bring us back home. Works such as sound pieces to guide ecological journeys, paintings alchemized with herbal concoctions, ecopoetic tea ceremonies, plant remedies, and starting mutual aid guerrilla gardens with her community are among the ways this practice manifests itself. Intercommunications follows a cyclical journey of healing with plants. The album was seeded from her ritual of singing to her plants every morning after she meditated with them. As an inquiry into communicating with the nonhuman, the songs grew through deconstruction of language layered with sounds of the environment, a communication shaped by honest forms of harmony and chaos, death and rebirth. Each song represents a different state of connecting with plants, while the album as a whole serves as an arc through a healing journey with their medicine - opening, sensing, letting, washing, waking, dancing, calling, following, swelling, enduring, decomposing, which in the end leads to another opening. These states of being sing along with the cycles of nature that we can continue to learn from.

Paige Emery is an ecological artist interweaving music, painting, and plants through healing rituals to explore ways of remembering the Earth. She catalyzes ritual to illuminate the way our practices co-write our cosmologies and to find cyclical resonances that bring us back home. Works such as sound pieces to guide ecological journeys, paintings alchemized with herbal concoctions, ecopoetic tea ceremonies, plant remedies, and starting mutual aid guerrilla gardens with her community are among the ways this practice manifests itself. Intercommunications follows a cyclical journey of healing with plants. The album was seeded from her ritual of singing to her plants every morning after she meditated with them. As an inquiry into communicating with the nonhuman, the songs grew through deconstruction of language layered with sounds of the environment, a communication shaped by honest forms of harmony and chaos, death and rebirth. Each song represents a different state of connecting with plants, while the album as a whole serves as an arc through a healing journey with their medicine - opening, sensing, letting, washing, waking, dancing, calling, following, swelling, enduring, decomposing, which in the end leads to another opening. These states of being sing along with the cycles of nature that we can continue to learn from.

Habitat (what we might now properly refer to as Habitat I) arrived, fully-formed, in 2021—the product of a conscientious, exploratory, and decidedly Covid-era collaboration between two Berlin-based experimental musicians: the composer N. (Niklas) Kramer, and percussionist, J. (Joda) Foerster. Inspired by the Italian architect, Ettore Sottsass, Habitat’s simple, albeit beguiling conceit (following in the footsteps of canonical ambient releases like Music for Airports and Plantasia) was that each track ought to represent a room in an imagined building. Taken quite literally, tracks like “Curved Hallway” guided the listener through a kind of psychogeographic labyrinth, at once welcoming and slightly uncanny. Habitat II operates on a similar premise. But if Habitat I charted the perplexing intricacies of an imagined, self-contained structure, Habitat II expands the conceptual realm. Think now, not only of rooms in a hypothetical home, but of the winding hallways and grounds of a mid-century structure—perhaps slightly past its prime, but not at all an inappropriate venue for a late-night soiree. How might these features be imagined, mapped, and rendered enticing for a listener? We begin, appropriately, with “Seating (Welcome),” which, in its fluttering, aetherial suite of static, winds, and percussive depths, gently hypnotizes in the vein of Terry Riley, beckoning our entry. The clarity here, the directional flow of air, recalls the dignity and gestural simplicity of the Bauhaus school. Of significant note is the Wasserspiel (track seven)—”water fixture” (loosely translated), like the sculpture by Lily Clark, which graces the record’s cover. In an album grounded by analogies, Wasserspiel constitutes an especially mimetic highlight: a cascading, shimmering, font of radiance that does not (to its strength) rely upon a sample or found-sound reference to running water. Instead we are left with the distinct impression of the glimmer of flowing liquid, and of the attendant, refractory evening sunlight. Indeed, fountains (the most common and domesticated form of Wasserspiele)—their simultaneous kitsch and abundance—may very well epitomize the kind of cultivated, sixties home-shopping catalog aesthetic that undergirds the Habitat series. These habitats, wherever they are, however they appear to you (and there is indeed ample room for interpretation)—we can all certainly agree that they are vaguely utopian and achingly nostalgic. Of their compositional process, Kramer and Foerster reference their mutual interest in improvisation, and, furthermore, a kind of “first thought best thought” approach to recording and indexing ideas. Relying primarily on a sampler with a 15 second limit, their process emphasizes the organic layering of asynchronous (though, crucially, harmonious — perhaps even “hospitable”) loops. Suffice it to say, many rooms have been lost to the aether, casualties of a mercurial recording process. Those rooms that remain in Habitat II have been cultivated, furnished, and decorated. And they eagerly await your entry.

Wind, the natural movement of air - is invisible but perceived through mediums: swaying branches, whistling pipes, blowing hair, clashing wind chimes. Filled with these daily associations with the wind it’s easy to overlook the beauty of the wind itself: an ethereal turbulence of air molecules with their own dynamics, wildly shifting direction and momentum. Celia Hollander’s album 2nd Draft, out November 10th on Leaving Records, is a tribute to the motion of making music: the invisible, forceful current that runs through humanity. In the way wind finds expression in the mediums of leaves, hair or dust, music is an unseeable current with its own energy that finds expression through resonant bodies, vibrating strings, trained fingers, colliding objects and more. 2nd Draft was recorded while Hollander was a composer in residence at the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center for the Arts in Nebraska City, NE in 2022. While working on multiple projects, she decided to improvise on their upright practice piano for an hour everyday. Writers refer to this type of practice as a “free write:” letting words from the unconscious torrentially fill a duration. Hollander compares these sessions to a sitting meditation: at best the hour soars by, and at worst it can feel like a tedious way to spend time. Once back in Los Angeles, she sifted through the recordings, chose excerpts and digitally marinated and simmered morsels of audio until achieving a desired texture, viscosity and aroma. Hollander considers all released music to be drafts: building from a previous piece and working towards something unknowable in the future. 2nd Draft is literally so: a sequel to DRAFT, the 2017 tape on Leaving Records under her bygone moniker $3.33. Both feature improvised piano, an exception to a more digital-composition based process heard in the rest of her discography. Like a draft of wind - a sudden gust, invisible but felt, something from the outside broken through to the inside - these piano free writes are meant to stir the external and the internal, ruffle the energy of a room, provide a refreshing breeze and surprise with spontaneity.

Delight, Arushi Jain’s follow-up to 2021’s seminal Under the Lilac Sky, out March 29 2024 on Leaving, carries, at its core, the simple proposition that delight is accessible and that the practice of cultivating it is a necessary endeavor. Weaving together emotions, imagery, and a sense of yearning for beauty, Jain aims to instill belief in the ever-present nature of delight, asserting the need to actively seek it when not readily found. The enhanced perception of this elusive emotion, Jain asserts, comes through extended observation of the present - the longer we look, the more we see - an idea that serves as a guide in her quest for delight. The introduction of cello, classical guitar, marimba, flute, and saxophone plus rich Indian classical vocals, all layered with modular synthesis, expands her sonic vocabulary to a lush textural landscape and signals new areas of creative focus. Jain, for the uninitiated, is a multi-hyphenate artist/musician (composer, vocalist, engineer, modular synthesist) . As has been widely noted, Arushi Jain deploys the sounds and aesthetics of contemporary experimental electronic music to channel, celebrate, iterate upon, and interrogate traditional Indian idioms. Under the Lilac Sky, her first LP (also released on Leaving), constituted an offering of sorts: a six-song suite intended to accompany the listener as they watched the sun’s setting. But while Jain’s last record was concerned with time, space, and our outer environment, Delight is reflective, occasionally approaching the autobiographical—simultaneously a record of an artist’s inward journey, and an invitation/roadmap for the listener to embark on their own search for delight. Each of Delight's nine tracks were inspired by Raga Bageshri (a raga being a melodic framework particular to Indian classical music). Bageshri is said to convey the feeling of waiting to reunite with one’s beloved. It possesses an innate longing, colored by potent fantasies of reunion. “Bageshri embodies the realization that you have unknowingly fallen deeply in love. It triggers within me immense devotion, juxtaposed with a poignant acknowledgement of suffering; for love as immense is often challenging to reciprocate”, Jain writes. “We come into this world alone, and we leave alone. Despite this knowledge, the human capacity for love is without reservation, which I find generous.” She sings of connection to a past and future self, and the creative practice (see the meditation on intimacy, “Our Touching Tongues”), but her longing feels more expansive. The beloved Jain invokes throughout Delight is not a lover, as Bageshri calls for, but delight itself. Stirred by Raag Bageshri during a creative fallow, Jain decamped to Long Island, where she composed and recorded the core of her new album. She assembled a makeshift studio in an empty house on the seaside, a house suffused with light and art and surrounded by wildlife. This ambience has clearly seeped into the album, drenched as it is in the warm sun as it is in the cold October rain. In her self imposed isolation, Jain experimented with vocal compositions, building songs out of short sung phrases. Jain ended her solitary writing by entering a previously unexplored territory of collaboration, working with acoustic instrumentalists to incorporate classical guitar, cello, marimba, flute, and saxophone into her sonic vocabulary. The result is a collection of songs that are often slower and sparer than those featured on Under the Lilac Sky, yet audibly richer, embracing the transcendental potential of repetition and the nuance of sampling live instruments on her synthesizer. Phrases, lyrics, and notes recur, but the feelings they evoke are consistently novel; Delight is diverse and fluid. Each song documents, by Jain’s own account, a tussle with the void, a journey into the unknown. She has opened an unmarked door and returned with small things that bring delight, precious and unexpected; we catch their glimmer in each recording. Indeed, Delight serves as an abject reminder that, through attention, openness, and practice, we are all capable of tapping into this necessary human sensation.

For his sophomore full-length album, LA-based Bassist/Producer/Composer Sam Wilkes is prompted with ten questions from Leaving Records community mentor & facilitator Carlos Niño.

捻くれ者のインダストリアル・テクノから退廃的なノイズ・ロックを交錯させながら、レイヴの解体を試みてきたテキサス拠点のCraig Clouseによる名プロジェクトShit & Shineによる2024年度最新アルバム『Joy Of Joys』が、フィレンツェ拠点のカルト・エクスペリメンタル・レーベル〈OOH-sounds〉よりアナログ・リリース！〈LAFMS〉の脱線的な前衛音楽から初期〈Mego〉のバッド・デジタリア、Wolf Eyesファミリーのノー・ブローな熱狂、〈Chocolate Monk〉のマイクロDIYのエトスまで、あらゆる文脈やジャンルの規律から一歩踏み出し、新たな音の軌跡を刻むS&Sのサウンドの美学とエッジが余す所なく詰め込まれた、アブストラクトかつ野性的な仕上がりの怪作！名手Giuseppe Ielasiの手によりマスタリング。限定200部。

Reiko Kudo first debuted on the Tokyo underground music scene in 1980 with NOISE, a duo which apart from herself under her then maiden name Reiko Omura on voice, guitar and trumpet featured Tori Kudo on organ. Their only album TENNO (1980 on Engel) is probably one of the most outstanding and uncompromising records of all time.

Like other pioneering female producers from Japan such as NON (of NON BAND), PHEW and HACO, who had all begun their startling careers in the early days of the japanese Punk era, Reiko Kudo can surely be regarded as one of the most unique, uncategorisable and daring voices in the entire field of electronic and experimental music ever.

RICE FIELD SLOWLY RIPING IN THE NIGHT was REIKO KUDO's second album under her own name. It features TORI KUDO (MAHER SHALAL HASH BAZ) and SAYA and TAKASHI UENO (TENNISCOATS) on various instruments. The recordings took place in 2000 at Reiko' s and Tori's house in the rural surroundings of Shikoku island.

All recorded music on this album sounds like it originates in a parallel dimension where time and key signatures simply don't exist, Some might describe this as outsider music, but this doesn't really begin to do justice to the quality of the tracks, there is nothing accidental or forced here, this is simply music created in a very different way. Yet again REIKO KUDO had conceived of something utterly beautiful.

"After producing the album "Souvenir de mauve" with Maher Shalal Hash Baz which we released on our label Majikick, the idea came to us, to release Reiko Kudo's work. For Reiko's work, we brought our recording equipment from Tokyo to Shikoku and recorded the entire album at her house.

The piano was positioned in a room with a high ceiling. We would set up our small recording equipment in the room and started to record. The basic tracks were recorded without any rehearsal and just a few overdubs were added on top of it. To have a distant sound on the recording, Tori played trumpet in the next room. The choir was standing outside the house, singing "Enya-totto, enya-totto" through the open window. It was early spring, I remember that it was still a bit cold and the members of the choir were freezing outside.

Reiko plays only at certain times of the day, so that we were able to complete only two or three recordings a day. Therefore we had plenty of free time. We went to a hot spring, to a cafe, or we tried pottery on a spinning wheel at Tori's workshop. It was a very rewarding time.

When this album was finished, we brought it to her to listen to. She said happily "I think this is the best work I have ever done." We felt that all our efforts were richly rewarded. Secretly, we thought the same, so we are delighted that this album will be re-issued." - Saya and Ueno (Tenniscoats), Tokyo 2018

For Anyone That Knows You, an album of mostly piano solos by Josiah Steinbrick, was recorded not for smoothness or posterity but to emphasize the piano as object, the person playing it, and the moment it sounds. On three of the pieces, the saxophone of Sam Gendel hovers over the piano like a faint change in the light, adding resonance and gentle reinforcement rather than counterpoint. Three others are delicate renditions: “Green Glass” interprets an untitled recording by Quechuan folk musicians Leandro Apaza Romas and Benjamin Clara Quispe; “Elyne Road” abbreviates one of Malian kora master Toumani Diabaté’s most tender compositions; and “Lullaby” is an arrangement of a traditional Creole song, originally recorded in 1954 by the Haitian-American guitarist Frantz Casseus.

Electronic Music from the Eighties and Nineties presents the soothing, hallucinatory side of Stone’s slow-evolving, time-bending composition. While we can’t always identify the source, we can hear that his sounds come from somewhere, and that there is a “correct” or “complete” version of them in theory; and so we can hear when they are being changed. What drives Stone’s music is the flow that he draws out of those differences: the way an Indonesian gamelan morphs into a chorus built from one female vocalist over the course of “Mae Yao”’s twenty-three minutes, the surprise emergence of a Mozart chorus out of the synths and skip-glitches of “Sonali,” or the slow, ambient evolution of “Banteay Srey”. “Woo Lae Oak,” issued in a single side edit for the first time, is an exception. Its samples – a tremolo string and a bottle being blown across the top like a flute - are simple in the extreme. Yet the Stone hallmark is clearly present, he locates the inherent emotional properties of the sounds – the tingling anticipation of the string and the calm nobility of the wind – and takes them into unexpected expressive territory.

Written and recorded with the goal of creating a one-movement suite in the least amount of time possible, "Succo di formiche" reflects the archetypal joy of music making, the spontaneous impulses underlying its formation, and a love of the record album form.

"Allégeance Volatile" and "Esquive" each tackle the same issue in their own way. Overcoming time: whether it be successive, additional, enumerative, or repetitive. However, there is nothing here about the ensuing nature of so-called "repetitive" music. These are types of high-end music. And it is more about insistence, the obstinacy of an individual who keeps knocking on a door that will never open. The rustic drumming of "Allégeance", talkative, acidulous, colorful, and over-articulated, with almost clownish desinences, eventually dies out in this very respite. The iterative and puffy shimmering of "Esquive" with its dull, thin and precise sounds, shifts and is engulfed into another sonic world -- which appears as a gaping and collapsed response to this prime insistency. This is, indeed, a "volatile allegiance" and "avoidance" from the sonic to the musical elements: the musical phenomenon anticipated and pursued as the non-sound of sound -- or, in other words, the void of sound. This seems to be the lesson of the concrete attitude in music. Such is the kind of questioning that stirs the composer. He returns with another title: "Contrée", which, once again, speaks of a counter-event. Here, the movement is broader, more generous, more confident. Time spreads and stretches out. What seems to be a landscape of entanglements, trajectories, influx, masses, and points emerges. "Something" rises and presents itself out of the sounds -- these escaping beings, these "relatively short combustion flames" (Schaeffer). The piece consists of five consecutive and uninterrupted parts: "Entrée" and "Stance I" -- "Véhémence De L'air" and "Stance II" -- "Grande Allure". It is the central section of an electroacoustic triptych with Sables (2011) as the first and Nil (2017) as the last. "Contrée" is dedicated to Philippe Mion, whose friendly ears have been entrusted with my music for so many years. Translations by Valérie Vivancos. Layout by Stephen O'Malley; Photos by Stéphane Ouzounoff and Bernard Bruges-Renard. Coordination GRM by François Bonnet. Executive Production by Peter Rehberg; Mastering by Mathias Durand; Cut by Rashad Becker at Dubplates & Mastering, Berlin, November 2018.