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Colemine is proud to present the newest 45 from Aaron Frazer's 'Into The Blue' LP. This one is a special one. Two cuts featuring the rhythm section of the legendary Cold Diamond & Mink, the backbone of the Finnish soul label Timmion. The A-side is a new cut, "It's A Shame". And it might be a shame this one didn't make the LP, cause it's a banger. Expertly chopped and arranged by Aaron and producer Alex Goose, the cut features tight drums, Aaron's trademark silky falsetto, and beautiful string arrangements. You'll be humming the hook for days to come. The B-side is the album closer on 'Into The Blue' and for good reason. Really feels like a sweet and soulful send off at the end of a movie. Lamenting the ups and downs of love, feeling foolish in the face of failure, but continuing to try nonetheless. Feels like a lost sample brought into the here and now expertly by Aaron and Goose.

Tennessee's Oliver James, a time-capsule of classic R&B sound, returns to the Colemine label with two new tunes pressed onto one must-have 45. The A-side features his first new track since 2022. '1-2-3' is an upbeat soul stomper à la Memphis and Stax. Nick DeVan and Vincent John (Eraserhood Sound) co-wrote the track; they finalized the instrumentals but were stumped on the lyrics. That's when James was called in, and he used his time working at a church to shape the lyrics that eventually became this number. The B-side was a collaborative effort with Nashville's gritty-funk ensemble The Gripsweats. It's an earnest song with lyrics inspired by James & DeVan's commiseration. "I'm no stranger to love that I used to know'," laments James; his favorite line of the song. Cushioned by lush string and horn arrangements, 'Nothing Is Forever' is a melancholy and heartfelt foil to the A.
Tennessee's Oliver James, a time-capsule of classic R&B sound, returns to the Colemine label with two new tunes pressed onto one must-have 45. The A-side features his first new track since 2022. '1-2-3' is an upbeat soul stomper à la Memphis and Stax. Nick DeVan and Vincent John (Eraserhood Sound) co-wrote the track; they finalized the instrumentals but were stumped on the lyrics. That's when James was called in, and he used his time working at a church to shape the lyrics that eventually became this number. The B-side was a collaborative effort with Nashville's gritty-funk ensemble The Gripsweats. It's an earnest song with lyrics inspired by James & DeVan's commiseration. "I'm no stranger to love that I used to know'," laments James; his favorite line of the song. Cushioned by lush string and horn arrangements, 'Nothing Is Forever' is a melancholy and heartfelt foil to the A.
Following the massive success of their sophomore album Fading Forward, Les Imprimés, by popular demand, press two standout tracks from the album on the coveted 7” format.The A side, “You & I,” is a feel-good, upbeat homage to the kind of love that endures “through the chaos and the blunders.” Punchy drums and keys create an undeniable two-stepper for frontman Morten Martens’ vocals to float above. Dreamers dream and dancers dance as Martens paints a picture of a devoted, understanding love that few are lucky enough to find. On the B side, Les Imprimés offer their take on the classic slow jam. “Miss The Days” unfolds gradually, with slow pulsing drums and building instrumentation that evoke longing and nostalgia. Martens sings of simpler times impossible to forget—moments free of adult responsibilities, when “it was you and me, hand in hand, sometimes wasted…” Ama Li joins him on vocals, transforming the track into a killer modern take on the classic soul duet, a tune sure to resonate far and wide.


Simeon ten Holt's landmark minimalist opus Canto Ostinato has a known magnetism. The piece's captivating harmony and winding structure prove an adventurous enterprise for any like-minded players embarking down its path, and it was at this very threshold that Metropolis Ensemble's Andrew Cyr, musician/composer Erik Hall, and the members of Sandbox Percussion all found each other. Their ensuing undertaking marks a world-class collaboration that yields an expansive and beautifully detailed new presentation of ten Holt's iconic work. In 2023 the New York Times shined a light on Simeon ten Holt, the late Dutch composer mostly unknown to the American contemporary classical audience. Featured in the story was Erik Hall in his Michigan studio, whose enthrallment with Canto Ostinato had resulted in his acclaimed solo recording on the label Western Vinyl. Taking notice was Metropolis Ensemble artistic director/conductor Andrew Cyr. He promptly relayed the album to Sandbox Percussion—each of them GRAMMY-nominated ensembles sharing over a decade of work together—and invited Hall to join them in re-orchestrating the piece for an outdoor summer solstice performance at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Now jointly feeling the piece's pull, the team crafted a sweeping new large-ensemble arrangement over six months, bringing into its orbit The New School's Sandbox Percussion Summer Seminar, as well as composers David Leon, Ben Wallace, and Ledah Finck and the Bergamot Quartet. The result was a luminous adaptation of the score, complete with mallet percussion, woodwinds, strings, and piano, garnering a recommendation from NPR's Morning Edition and culminating in sunrise and sunset performances for an enchanted audience. The project's momentum carried straight into the studio, as a new recording became imperative—a permanent document of the team's collective ardor for the composition. Spearheaded by Metropolis Ensemble, produced by Cyr and Hall, and arranged by Hall, Leon, Wallace, and Sandbox Percussion’s Jonny Allen, the interpretation extracts and reframes every line, motif, and arpeggio from the original score, expanding ten Holt’s piano manuscript into a prismatic chamber array. Recorded by GRAMMY-winning audio engineer Mike Tierney, the performance was captured in New York, 2025. Sandbox Percussion's array of mallet instruments maintains a unified and gracefully athletic expression of the piece's duration, while David Leon's octet of woodwinds overlay a kaleidoscopic tapestry. Eighteen strings—led by award-winning violinist Kristin Lee—provide cinematic, otherworldly depth. And Erik Hall's concert grand piano threads through it all, a passionately reverent preservation of the piece's keyboard origins. Altogether, a breathtaking new form for Simeon ten Holt's already-monumental opus, each element serving the whole while driving towards a rapturous resolution. Canto Ostinato, long beloved in its native Netherlands, is still a flame just beginning to burn in the US; a world just beginning to be discovered. But its gravity is certain. And the cohort of Metropolis Ensemble, Erik Hall, and Sandbox Percussion is honored to bear the torch and help continue to draw listeners everywhere to Simeon ten Holt's masterpiece of minimalism.

Simeon ten Holt's landmark minimalist opus Canto Ostinato has a known magnetism. The piece's captivating harmony and winding structure prove an adventurous enterprise for any like-minded players embarking down its path, and it was at this very threshold that Metropolis Ensemble's Andrew Cyr, musician/composer Erik Hall, and the members of Sandbox Percussion all found each other. Their ensuing undertaking marks a world-class collaboration that yields an expansive and beautifully detailed new presentation of ten Holt's iconic work. In 2023 the New York Times shined a light on Simeon ten Holt, the late Dutch composer mostly unknown to the American contemporary classical audience. Featured in the story was Erik Hall in his Michigan studio, whose enthrallment with Canto Ostinato had resulted in his acclaimed solo recording on the label Western Vinyl. Taking notice was Metropolis Ensemble artistic director/conductor Andrew Cyr. He promptly relayed the album to Sandbox Percussion—each of them GRAMMY-nominated ensembles sharing over a decade of work together—and invited Hall to join them in re-orchestrating the piece for an outdoor summer solstice performance at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. Now jointly feeling the piece's pull, the team crafted a sweeping new large-ensemble arrangement over six months, bringing into its orbit The New School's Sandbox Percussion Summer Seminar, as well as composers David Leon, Ben Wallace, and Ledah Finck and the Bergamot Quartet. The result was a luminous adaptation of the score, complete with mallet percussion, woodwinds, strings, and piano, garnering a recommendation from NPR's Morning Edition and culminating in sunrise and sunset performances for an enchanted audience. The project's momentum carried straight into the studio, as a new recording became imperative—a permanent document of the team's collective ardor for the composition. Spearheaded by Metropolis Ensemble, produced by Cyr and Hall, and arranged by Hall, Leon, Wallace, and Sandbox Percussion’s Jonny Allen, the interpretation extracts and reframes every line, motif, and arpeggio from the original score, expanding ten Holt’s piano manuscript into a prismatic chamber array. Recorded by GRAMMY-winning audio engineer Mike Tierney, the performance was captured in New York, 2025. Sandbox Percussion's array of mallet instruments maintains a unified and gracefully athletic expression of the piece's duration, while David Leon's octet of woodwinds overlay a kaleidoscopic tapestry. Eighteen strings—led by award-winning violinist Kristin Lee—provide cinematic, otherworldly depth. And Erik Hall's concert grand piano threads through it all, a passionately reverent preservation of the piece's keyboard origins. Altogether, a breathtaking new form for Simeon ten Holt's already-monumental opus, each element serving the whole while driving towards a rapturous resolution. Canto Ostinato, long beloved in its native Netherlands, is still a flame just beginning to burn in the US; a world just beginning to be discovered. But its gravity is certain. And the cohort of Metropolis Ensemble, Erik Hall, and Sandbox Percussion is honored to bear the torch and help continue to draw listeners everywhere to Simeon ten Holt's masterpiece of minimalism.

There is a certain solace to be found in minimal music—a contemplative joy that emerges through sustained repetition and subtle variation. Solo Three, the slyly absorbing new album from Michigan-based composer and multi-instrumentalist Erik Hall, embodies that hypnotic charge while boldly reimagining a distinct selection of contemporary classical works.
Hall’s affinity for minimalism began decades ago, when as a jazz-studies drummer at the University of Michigan he first encountered Steve Reich’s Music for 18 Musicians. The piece altered his trajectory completely. Years later, amid a creative lull, he revisited that formative work by attempting a solo reconstruction. Working alone in his home studio, Hall painstakingly recreated Reich’s intricate, interlocking architecture—supplanting the piece’s orchestral palette with his own keyboards, guitars, and synths—and performing every part himself without loops, programming, or sequencers.
That recording, released on Western Vinyl in 2020, arrived during the fraught early months of lockdown and resonated deeply with listeners. Pitchfork praised it for making “a minimalist standard freshly thrilling to revisit,” and it won the 2021 Libera Award for Best Classical Record. Even Reich himself wrote to congratulate Hall, saying he had “reinvented the piece.”
Heartened, Hall next turned to Simeon ten Holt’s Canto Ostinato, a sprawling work of Dutch minimalism built on repetition and euphoric harmony. His 2023 interpretation was hailed by Bandcamp Daily as “mesmerizing as patterns emerge, coalesce, and retreat,” and the New York Times highlighted Hall in a feature on ten Holt’s growing influence. The project led to a years-long collaboration with New York’s Metropolis Ensemble and Sandbox Percussion, confirming Hall’s place as an inventive new voice bridging classical and contemporary practice.
With Solo Three, Hall brings this trilogy to a sweeping close. Instead of focusing on a single composition, he weaves together multiple works by several visionary composers: Glenn Branca, Charlemagne Palestine, Laurie Spiegel, and a return to Steve Reich. The result is a rich, varied homage to American minimalism—at once reverent and exploratory. Branca’s “The Temple of Venus Pt. 1” unfolds in oscillating organ and prepared piano; Palestine’s “Strumming Music” becomes a meditative blur of felted piano and guitar; Spiegel’s “A Folk Study” is recast with acoustic warmth in lieu of electronics; and Reich’s “Music for a Large Ensemble” closes the album with a 16-minute, kaleidoscopic rush of overlapping melodies and jubilant rhythmic patterns.
True to his method, Hall performs and records every part himself, layering instruments one by one like sonic bricks. The approach is deeply human and quietly defiant in an age of faceless automation. “It’s just so much more compelling to actually play every note,” Hall says. “Those micro-differences between takes create a sort of living, breathing magic.”
That living, breathing magic fills every corner of Solo Three. It’s both a reverent ode to the composers who shaped Hall’s musical identity and a vivid reminder that minimalism’s hypnotic beauty—its patience, precision, and quiet emotional power—still speaks urgently to the present moment.
- Zach Schonfeld

“How to begin? No beginning... never ending reverberation,” Antoine Beuger writes in the accompanying notes to Leo Svirsky’s River Without Banks. Dedicated to his first piano teacher Irena Orlov, River Without Banks is a mesmerizing, emotional collection of pieces that are simultaneously complex and fluid. The title River Without Banks comes from a chapter of musicologist Genrikh “Henry” Orlov’s profound work Tree of Music. In said chapter, Orlov traces the history of sacred music from the Western and Eastern tradition and how the forms (of the chant, raga etc.) sought to eliminate the division between the physical and the spiritual--the bank and the river.
Arranged for two pianos with accompaniment from strings, trumpet, and electronics, this is Svirsky’s first piece to approach the history of the piano and the possibilities of the recording studio, and his deepest dive yet into exploring the instability of listening and its transformation of musical semantics and affect. Like Wolfgang Voigt’s Gas project, Svirsky overlays romantic musical gestures to create a lush unfamiliarity. No sooner than each track begins the next moment unfurls beneath it, cascading time and blurring perception of past and present.
Akin to a multidimensional Rzewski thematic interpretation, Svirsky’s music defies genre-classification or classical ideology while its virtuosity clearly stems from somewhere from within disciplined traditions. Continuously revisiting, revising, and renewing its emotional core, River Without Banks is less an album of songs than songs of a singular, unlocatable album. Performed by the composer with assistance from Britton Powell, Max Eilbacher, Leila Bordreuil, Tim Byrnes, and recorded by Al Carlson.

Virga III is the third installment in Eluvium’s inspired experimental series – and the first in nearly five years. In unmistakable contrast to the dense, ominous sprawl of Virga II, the works that make up Virga III offer an almost divine reprieve. The nervous tension, loss of control, and patient recontextualization that inspires each volume of the Virga series manifests in unique ways. As composer and Eluvium architect, Matthew Robert Cooper describes, “While Virga I was brought to me by a temporarily evacuation from my house to my garage during a winter snowstorm – and Virga II by a phantasmal dream sequence during the height of a global pandemic – Virga III takes its inspiration from the worlds found in minor green spaces, culverts, and other miniature biological ecosystems operating within our daily deluge of cruel rhetoric, unspeakable violence, unending disruption and devastating disparity. A reflection on the micro and macro universes that surround us.” The songs on Virga III are composed and performed by Cooper, as always, but in the Virga universe, he essentially feels a unique collaboration within himself. As Cooper explains, “The Virga series affords me an opportunity to return to an older version of myself, but with a new level of understanding. Practicing more patience interacting with these built musical systems and recordings, I hesitantly duet with my past self in a new performance or manipulative layer, only after digesting the first for as long as possible, to a point of it conjuring new and uncharted feelings, in hopes of curating a sense of therapeutic self-awareness and discovery. A mixture of the exploratory mindset against a painterly emotional resonance, gradually unfurling itself unto itself.” The Virga III vinyl format is pressed onto crystal clear colored vinyl and housed in a full-color heavyweight old-style tip-on jacket. It is limited to a one-time pressing of 1,000 copies worldwide.

William Basinski's epochal four-album box of slowly decomposing memories gets its long-overdue deluxe reissue, with liner notes from Laurie Anderson and a fresh mastering job from Josh Bonati.
Undoubtedly one of the greatest "ambient" albums of our era, 'The Disintegration Loops' is an enduring aesthetic touchstone. It didn't exist in a vacuum when it appeared in the early '00s, as the dust settled after 9/11, but Basinski's prescient meditation on decay in the wake of tragedy felt like a musical mark in the sand - a body of work that changed the way we think about repetition and tape saturation. The story goes that the composer, who'd been recording loop-based, minimalist experiments since the '70s, inspired by Brian Eno's 'Discreet Music' and Steve Reich's 'It's Gonna Rain', was going through his archive of reel-to-reel tapes when he realized the ferrite was flaking away from the plastic. Not willing to give up on the material, he recorded the output, letting the tape head destroy his pieces irreparably and adding reverb to the output.
Now, this would have been good enough without the additional context, but Basinski finished 'Disintegration Loops' on the morning of September 11, 2001, and played the first piece to his friends as they sat on the roof of his apartment block, watching agape as events unfolded. He used the footage he shot at the time for the covers of each disc, and the suite's solemn, thoughtful decline served as the unofficial soundtrack of our collective grief, an unfussy reminder of tragedy that plays out its haunted remnants of the past until they die, quite literally. There's been plenty of music that's aped Basinski's method since, and we don't doubt there'll be plenty more, but there's nothing quite like the original, and this latest remaster is the definitive version.

Wanda Felicia’s stunning debut album on Timmion Records, Now Is The Time…, delivers a dynamic selection of soul that feels both timeless and refreshingly present. Backed by the analog grooves of Cold Diamond & Mink, Felicia brings forth a suite of stories sunk in vintage grooves but made just right for any time.
With roots in New York’s house and acid jazz scenes – and after spending decades away from the spotlight – Wanda resurfaces with a seasoned voice and spirit, ready to impress anybody with a beating heart. Each track on Now Is The Time… feels lived-in: from the shuffling bounce of “Stuck On You” to the blooming optimism of “Flowers in the Garden” and the introspective funky poetics of “Reflections of Love.”
Throughout the album, Felicia’s delivery is effortless, elevated by Cold Diamond & Mink’s rich but tightly knit palette of rhythm section and horn riffs. Together they create a rootsy soundscape that channels late 1960s to early 1970s soul with a modern touch. Whether you’re drawn in by the beat balladry of “All in the Game” or the southern soul of “Until You’re Mine,” this album creates its own space beyond trends – celebrating craft, emotion, and timeless groove.

Ted Lucas’ Images of Life is a retrospective tracing the full scope of the Detroit songwriter’s work, drawing on hundreds of hours of tapes preserved by Lucas himself. Spanning early band recordings through to previously unheard later material, it captures an artist constantly reshaping his sound. Disc one, Strange Mysterious Sounds (1965–1970), documents his time with The Spike Drivers, The Misty Wizards and The Horny Toads, moving from garage rock into psychedelia. Rainy Days (1970–1974) shifts to intimate, acoustic solo recordings in the vein of his OM album. The final disc, Impossible Love (1979), presents a long-lost second album, revealing a more polished, hook-driven approach without losing his distinctive voice. A deep and revealing archive of a singular talent.
This album was compiled from original sources that have been lovingly restored and mastered. It represents a mere fraction of Connie's recorded repertoire.



François J. Bonnet – Banshee
Banshee is an ear directed towards the edges of the old world, where these infinite fines terrae cut and fractalize into coasts, harbours, fjords, peninsulas and archipelagos. Drawing its raw material from recordings made in the Inner Hebrides, Banshee tightly weaves a fabric where the sonic avatars of fauna, flora and climate merge with the human presence, its tools and its culture. Thus, a small boat cleaving through a loch becomes the voice of the mountains and wilderness, and the howling of the wind on the moors becomes the lament of a Banshee, harbinger of death, messenger of the Other World.
Sarah Davachi – Basse Brevis
Co-commissioned by Radio France and INA grm, Basse Brevis by Canadian composer Sarah Davachi was premiered at the Présences 2024 festival, which was dedicated to Steve Reich. Drawing on her own minimalist approach, Sarah Davachi explores, with extreme care, the weavings and complex relationships between the timbral, spatial and durational components of music. Using developments that can be appreciated over time, the composer manages to create music that is extremely precise, subtle and lively. But what is striking, and particularly evident in Basse Brevis, is that such an approach, both abstract and restrained, is nonetheless at times utterly poignant. The work combines moments of formal exploration with moments of pure emotion in a perfectly mastered fashion, creating a gentle tension as it swings between two modes of listening that navigate indecisively within both instrumental and concrete approaches, tracing, in parallel, a diagonal of sound that unfolds around perception, sensation and feeling.
François J. BONNET « Banshee » (2024)
Music composed from materials collected on the Isles of Mull, Staffa and Skye, Inner Hebrides, August 2022
Mastered by Giuseppe Ielasi / Cut by Andreas Kauffelt at Schnittstelle
Photo by Didier Allard © INA / Sleeve design by Stephen O’Malley
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Sarah DAVACHI « Basse Brevis » (2023)
Performed (electric organ, synthesizer, Mellotron) and recorded by Sarah Davachi at home in Los Angeles, CA, USA
Mastered by Giuseppe Ielasi / Cut by Andreas Kauffelt at Schnittstelle
Photo by Sean McCann / Sleeve design by Stephen O’Malley

2025 edition. Kali Malone’s The Sacrificial Code is the 2019 breakthrough album of the acclaimed composer’s pipe organ pieces. Her temporally informed studies of harmonics and intonation breathed life into a suite of compositions which leaves the heart moved and mind still. This 2025 edition was mastered by Rashad Becker and features a new track Sacrificial Code III.
Pitchfork praised the album for its "time-stretching properties" and "clean minimalism". Resident Advisor described the album as an "exercise in concentration, restraint, and focus". Tiny Mix Tapes emphasized the "intensity and intimacy" of the album, pointing out how Malone's close miking technique brings out every textural detail of the organ, creating a highly focused and immersive listening experience.
48k/32bit master by Rashad Becker

To be an attentive listener to the world as it stands is to be saturated with language. Speech resounds through nearly every space that features human beings, whether unwanted or desired, mundane or profound. Words sit on the page and in the ear, proliferating endlessly. This superabundance has long been a point of fascination for composer and musician Ben Vida, but over the past several years it has led to a new method of music making that simultaneously exalts and interrogates the primacy of language in our sonic and cultural environments. Gently, playfully, Vida breaks down language’s hierarchy of meaning and sound until they exist in egalitarian harmony. Oblivion Seekers is Vida’s newest album in this mode of composition, following 2023’s collaboration with new music ensemble Yarn/Wire The Beat My Head Hit. Like its predecessor, the music’s focus is on coordinated duets of spoken word in a neutral tone, the variable cadences of the words in motion creating complex internal rhythmic structures. He is joined by the voices of Nina Dante, Christina Vantzou, John Also Bennett, and Félicia Atkinson, creating a singular tone that is neither theirs nor his, fluid in its gender presentation, accent, and diction. The instrumental compositions that form the album’s understory have the casual flow of dialogue, conversational but subdued, rarely the agent of change. Here, Vida likewise called upon an accomplished community of players to accompany him: Dante on harp, Bennett on bass flute, Matt Bauder and Will Epstein on saxophones, Henry Fraser on bass, Cleek Schrey on violin, and Booker Stardrum on percussion. These elements form lattice-like structures that the text darts in and around, often adhering to downbeats but otherwise moving freely within each lilting phrase. A tranquil, focused temperament persists, enhanced by the reserved cadence of the voices that makes it feel as if the music is one long mantra that never quite reaches back to its genesis point. The effect is entrancing, equally soporific and gripping, implying repetition without ever moving exactly the same way twice. The instrumentation on each of the album’s four pieces varies; “Be Yr Own Abyss” is defined by the wave-like counterpoint of saxophones, while the ambiguous chime of vibraphone floats over “Oblivion Seekers” and Fraser’s swelling bass provides the album’s sole dramatic entrance. The music shifts in the ear as the text constantly redefines and recontextualizes the composition’s form and movement, even as it remains consistent in its otherworldly glow. The text is often drawn from snippets of language that Vida encountered throughout his life as he was composing: overheard mumblings from the supermarket line, impactful phrases from a novel he was reading, impressions of the music that wouldn’t leave his turntable. Small details, otherwise insignificant, accumulate not to form a narrative, but an impression of the complex meaning-making process that happens as one lives day to day. Characters and scenes flicker in and out of the frame, and phrases that beg to be unpacked are allowed to glide by. In “Be Yr Own Abyss” something like a thesis appears without fanfare: “Her tongue was out to kill her / all hail this mental space / constructing ambiguity / and the endless stream.” On two separate occasions the listener is told that waves are heading our way. There are many predecessors to these types of novel confluences of music and speech. Vida’s love of Robert Ashley is well documented, but perhaps even more significant are Mark E. Smith and The Fall, Neil Tennant and the Pet Shop Boys’ spoken verses, the entire history of hip hop, Meredith Monk. The way the words are delivered matters just as much as the words themselves, revealing an intentionality and directness that Vida highlights and subverts with the text’s abstract construction patterns. On Oblivion Seekers, the omnidirectional din is the marble Vida chips away at to illuminate the way we process the vast strangeness of the world. Its triumph is that we lose none of the beautiful mystery of how these signs bridge our external and internal worlds.

Alex Zhang Hungtai stands in stillness on 'Dras', but it's the kind of stillness that contains entire ranges of possibility. Recorded in 2019 inside Montreal's Saint Joseph Oratory (right before a piano demolition, no less), these nine pieces sat dormant on his hard drive through pandemic years until something finally clicked. What emerges now feels like watching someone trace the contours of their own interior landscape, each melodic line a careful negotiation with the unconscious. This is only a saxophone record in the barest sense.
The terrain here is tactile and unforgiving. On the title track, difficult melodies get torn apart and molded into emotive drones, dissonance interlocking where tones cut paths through the senses with metallic sheen. "El Khela" refracts into spectral layers that pull with eternal gravity, while "Estado" finds solace inside its own haze, rhythms barely audible but guiding forward with their cadence smeared against grey walls. These are small moments that become cathartic sonic breaths, each one revealing new passages through psychic geography.
There's beauty encased in the subtle repetitions of opener "Erg,” and in the glowing progressions of "White Dwarf." Zhang's saxophone becomes a dowsing rod for the uncharted, with electricity running through the album's veins while his breath anchors everything to something wordlessly human. The digital manipulation applied to those church recordings doesn't obscure that human element of 'Dras'. It transforms the raw material into something that navigates between external space and internal landscape.
By the time closer "Mazil" arrives, Alex Zhang Hungtai lets his saxophone speak its full resonance. Low, guttural expressions open up like chasms beneath melodic constellations floating in thick gravity. There’s a finality here even though something in these passages feels weightless. This is music permeated with inner dialogue, a wordless spell dancing above the psychic abyss. Tonal sequences disintegrate into narcotized sonics, a sharp elegant edge that cuts without drawing blood. This lonely work of exploration becomes something communal. 'Dras' is a map for traversing the space between where we are and where we might go.
