anthéne (Brad Deschamps) returns to Home Normal for a stunning exploration of time and space. Home Normal don, Ian Hawgood teased the album a month before release on the excellent Moor Thoughts Podcast, saying of Brad “I can’t believe how good his output is… That kind of gorgeous, sort of magical, otherworldly melody gets me.”

It’s an apt description - time and space is almost 55 minutes of the most absorbing ambient music available. The album contains six long form pieces that slowly grow and evolve. As Brad explained in the album’s Bandcamp listening party, each track is constructed from guitar layers and played as live. This gives the pieces a wonderful organic evolution and shows the mastery Ian Hawgood spoke of - to create such detailed, well-controlled atmospheres in this way is a stunning feat. Coupled with beautiful tape saturation - occasionally pushing to the edge of breakup - and bass intensity, tracks reach a subtle grandiosity, particularly on album opener “born by the sea”.

The following track, “minds and bodies” starts with a gentle melody that almost sounds like a vocal line; it’s pretty, melancholic and utterly brilliant. These are tracks you can really luxuriate in, but still leave you wanting more. The excellent titles hint at themes throughout and the release notes share more - “time and space … opens into one of his most beautiful and gently affecting albums to date. Across its six expansive suites, delicate layers unfold, drifting between presence and absence, wonder and stillness, memory and atmosphere…”

The deep swelling chords of “in the wrong room” are joined by reversing notes that dance backwards and forwards in time and space. I could imagine it consoling deeply at one of life’s lowpoints or soundtracking ecstatic highs. This is followed by the longest track, at 11:48, “surrounding walls” which thrums with forward motion before opening up into something lighter and somehow even more cosmic. Like the tree in Benoît Pioulard’s beautiful cover photograph, the sense of deep time that humans struggle to comprehend really blossoms here. Some ideas seem immovable and ancient while others flit by in the blink of a tree's eye. The melancholy increases towards the end of time and space, which feels appropriate as I wish the album didn’t end at all.

The closing pair of “time and space” and “carry us away” are shimmering, aching, affecting brilliance. The former probably contains the most guitar-like guitar sound on the record and is paired with a slowly-evolving drone-like ambient texture to great effect. It chimes and flows right into your soul. I love a beautiful closing track and “carry us away” delivers in spades, it’s the perfect conclusion to the album. I could imagine walking home with a wistful smile after hearing it close a gig. This is a truly top-draw ambient album and another brilliant addition to the Home Normal collection. Despite its immediate power I find myself loving it more with each listen. It’s a wonderful experience that will accompany you on your journeys through time and space and may well take you somewhere you’ve never been before.

Links

anthéne

Bandcamp
Instagram

Home Normal

Bandcamp

Adding to the recent canon of exceptional collaborations on the indelible Home Normal label is the collaborative effort from The Green Kingdom (Mike Cottone) and Maps & Diagrams (Tim Diagram), collectively known herein as midorinozu, with their album titled “lost horizons” (out this September).

I’m not going to lie, this is a tough one to frame. How does one speak of the combination of two of the most recognizable ambient artists going back over a decade, and whilst both parties have celebrated catalogs, the sum of the parts is somehow soaring above each individual’s output? Not that Mike or Tim have any weak moments to speak of, but together they compliment each other so beautifully, and whole. Don’t believe me, just press play and let “radius-drifting” happen.

I can’t help but shake the feeling through the first half of the album that I’ve finally stumbled upon the long-awaited followup to The Dead Texan’s one-and-done Kranky release. Slow shapes unfurl, guitars drone out, pianos are ambling about the forefront, and in the distance; fields ground us in delicate, intimate moments of time. Now, this is no SotL-side-project-rip-off, this is just the closest common I can assimilate to describe the innate and unique beauty in this set of recordings.

Through the music, Mike and Tim unveil worlds so incredibly visual and terrestrial - nothing drones on in a manner to make you float off into space, left circling around in abstracts, however (much like Tim’s cover image) you’re lifted just above the mountain’s tops, and allowed to coast above pastoral landscapes, viewed on-high, in a tangible manner, that lets your feet gently hit the floor whenever you need to re-center. This is magical work. Compositions definitely border on the folk-bient side of things, but never get too country; they also equally ride the School-of-Eno-thing (drones and slow registers for background music) yet never fade into the background, per se.

This is, undeniably, two masters of their craft in a very symbiotic creative state; an intentional tension and release playing out. Across “lost horizon” nostalgia collides with dreams of the future; a healthy dose of tangible decay and afterthoughts brought to the table by Tim allows Mike to reciprocate through creating melodies that evoke future dreams and moments yet-to-come - it’s as though they manifest the future through informed inputs of the past - not an easy balance to strike, yet they’ve done so handily. “meridian echo” opens the second half of the album, and acts as a standout track in the set, sparking warm summer nights, beach bonfires, dare I say it…even ambient-adjacent FM radio? Or, Ambient-Yacht Rock? This composition is one that may turn the “no-drum” ambient purists off, but that’s to their own detriment. Between the opening LinnDrum percussions, deep, sultry bass synth a la Ken Ishii’s “Endless Season,” and the FM-based synths, all accented by these wonderfully delayed acoustic picks, plucks, and strikes throughout…I’m going to need a sunny day and access to a boat dock STAT. ‘Breezy’ might be an apropos, single-word descriptor, closely followed by ‘stunning,’ buffeted by ‘unexpected,’ then finally ‘wow.’ Yes. In a single word, “wow.”

After the sweet, mid-album departures of “meridian echo” we’re thrown deeper back into Mike and Tim's folk-bient pocket with “moon garden” - an interesting, and thought-worthy juxtaposition due to it’s abstract opening, given it follows such a sweet and, frankly, sultry piece of FM-ready-circa-1979 greatness. Through “moon garden” a bend-y, modern-leaning sub bass is revealed to inform you that you’re now VERY deep into this record, and it’s nowhere near done imprinting as of yet. Clocking in as the shortest composition of the set, running just over 4 minutes, it’s the perfect intermezzo to temper the ears and mind for the album’s final set - one that finds us deep within the ‘lost horizon’: things lost to time, seeing a new day, continuing to push ahead...Mike and Tim have tapped into a very special, very human moment across this entire album. Highly recommended (repeat) listening.

Reviewed by Ryan Watts (Akira Film Script)

Links

Lost Horizons Album

Home Normal Bandcamp

I’ve been following Greig’s music under the Moss Covered Technology moniker since his 2016 release Speicherbank, released on the now-defunct Eilean Recs. Since then, he has developed a consistent and impressive body of work, releasing music through some of the most respected labels in contemporary ambient music, including Dewtone, Polar Seas, Fluid Audio and Hibernate. Looking back across his catalogue, there is a clear evolution in Greig’s sound, with each release feeling like a more refined and fully realised vision of the emotive and thought-provoking soundscapes he seeks to create.

His ability to blend crisp electronic tones with deep, organic textures is what originally drew me to his music. This juxtaposition of sounds creates an immediate sense of intrigue, drawing the listener into a rich microcosm of sounds that seems to mimic the gradual, often imperceptible shifts found in nature. There is something incredibly tactile about the way Greig approaches sound; individual elements might initially appear small or insignificant, but given time they develop and interact with one another, gradually forming something much larger than the sum of their parts. This impressive refinement of a very specific sonic language demonstrates a real dedication to the pursuit of his creative practice.

His music, coupled with his beautiful photography of the often stark Devon landscapes, also reveals a very clear aesthetic that seems to beautifully encapsulate the intention behind his work. There is a sense of place running through both the music and imagery, a fascination with quiet environments, weather, decay and the subtle changes that take place around us when we allow ourselves the time to notice them.

His latest release, Memory Service, on his newly established Geological Editions imprint, is the first Moss Covered Technology instalment since 2023’s A Weather Internal, released by the wonderful Fluid Audio. Memory Service seems to take a slightly different approach to some of his previous releases. Rather than following a clearly defined narrative, the album feels much more open-ended, allowing the listener to find their own meaning within its richly diverse collection of tracks.

Without the pressure of a narrative to follow, the album opens up a deeply intimate listening experience. Slowly evolving loops of melodic fragments steadily give way to rich harmonic textures, while decayed sounds occupy a fragile space somewhere between beauty and destruction. Waves of emotive pads wash over the listener, often tinged with sadness, nostalgia and a quiet sense of hope for the future. Nothing is rushed. Everything is given the necessary space to breathe, creating compositions that reward deep and engaged listening.

Greig seems particularly reflective in his mood here, almost as though he is looking backwards through his own memories, revisiting their highs and lows and everything in between. There is a feeling that these pieces are less concerned with documenting a specific moment and more interested in the way memories themselves function: fragmented, unreliable and constantly shifting depending on where we are in the present.

One thing that really struck me about this album is the variety of compositional approaches Greig has taken. Each track seems to have been approached from a slightly different angle, creating an ever-changing landscape that moves between the unstable and unknown and the familiar and safe. This allows each composition to live and breathe within its own unique space, unclouded by what has come before it and unconcerned with what might come after it. In many ways, this feels much like the immediacy of life itself.

I’m always impressed by Greig’s ability to really carve out a sound. It is clear that an enormous amount of care goes into the sculpting and refining of each element he uses. Nothing feels overdone or cluttered; for a sound to earn its place within one of these compositions, it needs to be capable of holding its own. Each element feels meticulously placed, managing to do so much while remaining true to the minimal constraints Greig places upon his music.

It is within this space that the organic feeling of his music is allowed to grow. Tiny musical ideas are slowly nurtured from their beginnings until they develop into fully realised organisms, changing shape as they interact with the sounds around them. There is a patience to this process that feels increasingly rare. Rather than constantly introducing new ideas, Greig seems happy to allow existing ones to develop, decay and transform, giving the listener the opportunity to become absorbed in the smallest details.

The warmth and tonality of the album gives even its darker moments a sense of beauty and wonder, reminding us that not everything exists in simple oppositions. Life rarely feels entirely black or white; instead, it occupies the murky and often much more interesting space between the two. Memory Service seems comfortable existing within that uncertainty. Beauty and decay, warmth and coldness, familiarity and alienation all sit alongside one another without necessarily resolving their differences.

At times these sounds compete for your attention, while at others they seem to merge into a single, slowly shifting mass. With each listen, new perspectives seem to reveal themselves, allowing the album to feel strangely responsive to whatever emotional state you happen to be in when you hear it. I can imagine these compositions taking on entirely different meanings depending on the season, the weather or simply the circumstances of the listener. There is something wonderfully open about music that allows this kind of personal interpretation.

Pulsating synth lines provide the compositions with a subtle driving force, allowing moments to ebb and flow while melodic patterns emerge and dance in and out of focus. Soft waves of rich pad sounds gradually build around these central melodic structures before slowly decaying into something more textural and less immediately recognisable. The distinction between melody and texture begins to blur, with sounds that initially appear to have a clear purpose gradually becoming part of the wider sonic environment.

This is perhaps one of the album’s greatest strengths. Greig understands that a sound does not necessarily need to announce itself in order to be effective. Sometimes its role is simply to occupy a particular space, to add weight or atmosphere to what surrounds it. Over time, these small decisions accumulate, creating an album that feels carefully constructed without ever feeling overly constructed.

Memory Service feels like a natural progression for Moss Covered Technology while also representing a subtle shift in approach. It retains the qualities that have made Greig’s work so compelling to me—the meticulous sound design, restrained compositions, organic textures and deep sense of atmosphere—while allowing these elements to exist in a looser and more open-ended framework. Like the landscapes that accompany Greig’s work visually, Memory Service seems interested in the beauty that can be found in overlooked places: the weathered, the fragile, the decaying and the constantly changing.

Ultimately, this feels like an album about memory without ever needing to explicitly tell us what to remember. It leaves enough space for the listener to bring their own experiences into the music, allowing those memories to become part of the compositions themselves. Perhaps that is why it feels so different with each listen. The music remains largely the same, but we are not.

Memory Service is another impressive addition to the Moss Covered Technology catalogue and a compelling continuation of Greig’s ongoing exploration of texture, atmosphere and emotional space. It is an album that rewards patience, reflection and repeated listening, revealing something slightly different each time you return to it.



Reviewed by James Osland

Moss Covered Technology Bandcamp

Moss Covered Technology Instagram

Memory Service Album

What initially caught your attention about this record?

Full disclosure: I am a Whitelabrecs Subscriber on Bandcamp, so I trust that the label’s output will be items of quality and worth spending time with so that’s how I saw this record - turning up in my collection a short while ago. The cover artwork is stunning so I listened right away and found myself here, writing to tell you about the wonderful sounds contained within…

Were you familiar with music by this artist or label previously?

Yes, definitely Whitelabrecs (a most trusted outlet!) but not with the artist.

When do you find yourself listening to it most?

I’m listening to the entirety of the release for the first time as I write this, so when I will be listening to it most remains to be seen, but I was listening to the three sample tracks provided in Bandcamp prior to release coming out - mostly in the evening, after my day of work is complete and I reach something to help my mind slow down - these tracks are perfect for that!

What does it remind you of, or what does it make you think about?

The title “silent steps for a better way” immediately made me think of a walk in the woods, the kind where you concentrate on the sounds around you and try to walk as softly as possible so as not to disturb the pristine world you’ve entered - I always let the title of the record conjure a vision of what the artist may have intended, leaving the liner notes and descriptions for later. As I listen further, I would say that my initial impression of the title and sample tracks holds true for me - but I’ve expanded the location of that silent walk to be along a beach or shoreline at dawn (or dusk)...

Which track would you say is your favorite and why?

The track “16” is grabbing me in a most melancholy and familiar way, a glacially-paced journey which made me close my eyes and savour the depth of the track - 8+ minutes of warmth that brought me deep into my own thoughts which was nearly a meditation - tracks like that don’t come around often, I’ll be adding that one to a special playlist of tracks that send me to another realm…

Have you got any thoughts on the concept, artwork or any information you’d like to share from the liner notes?

The cover art (by George Korunov) is so gorgeous, so otherworldly while simultaneously feeling familiar - I can see what it is intended to be, but the treatment makes it appear to be a trove of treasure or some precious metallic interpretation of nature crafted by an artisan from another world. The liner notes tell a story of movement, of fluidity, of hope and change, but suggest the importance of desiring and practicing patience throughout those journeys to ensure you receive the maximum benefit.

Why should fans of Ambient Music spend time with this release?

This release will appeal to all segments of the Ambient spectrum, it’s incredibly well recorded and performed, the tracks are deep and meaningful - each telling a slow but important story that the listener will transform into their own silent journey. These tracks unfold slowly but that is the intention - take the time to listen deeply to each, you will be rewarded with a transformative experience!

Links

hershel

Instagram

Whitelabrecs

Bandcamp
Linktree
Substack

What initially caught your attention about this record?

Well, I guess it was Nigel Spencer, the Folk Police label owner who messaged me about his initial idea to release an album featuring reworks of Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeler. Nigel is an active member in our Inner Echo community, as well as a fellow writer here for Wall of Ambient. In our community we’re often doing collaborative projects, such as albums and charity fundraisers. So Nigel reached out to see if we might all get behind his idea to involve some artists among our community with this project. Of course, I was very keen to help - and it’s amazing to see so much quality music take shape from Nigel’s initial idea.

Were you familiar with music by this artist or label previously?

I’d say the majority of the artists involved are people whose music I’m familiar with. We have some artists who have released on Whitelabrecs, such as Akira Film Script, Dionisaf and Many Pretty Blooms. I know Bowing too, who lives down the road from me. Michael who runs the Stolace show. Then plenty of the Inner Echo crew who I chat with regularly such as Graham, Jim, David, Glenn and everyone else. There are one or two artists here though, whose aliases and work I was unfamiliar with, so this was a great opportunity to listen.

In terms of Folk Police, I’m not sure I can recall being aware of Nigel’s label back in the day during its original iteration. But I’ve known Nigel since he started picking up Whitelabrecs releases many years back, and we’ve chatted quite a bit since he joined Inner Echo. After ordering my CD copy of Silent Harvest volume 2, we even met in person in Manchester, to exchange CDs!

When do you find yourself listening to it most?

I’ve played this one in a few different environments now. I first listened when I was helping Nigel with the sequencing of the tracks, working out which running order felt the most logical. But that was a technical listen being truthful, despite being seriously impressed by the quality. Since then, after meeting Nigel in person, I agreed to share my thoughts on the album so I’ve been listening to it in full as a set, which is no mean feat given its length. So the environment had to be right for me to be able to give it my full attention. So, it’s not that glamorous… it soundtracked preparing and painting my garage doors. Horrible, messy work. But, a task long enough for me to need to leave some music on for a good while.

What does it remind you of, or what does it make you think about?

I think given the variety of artists involved here, there’s a range of sounds and ideas that take the original source material as a starting point and then head down various different routes. So from the off, Percolator’s opener reminded me a little of some of the more guitar-based pieces on Richard Skelton’s classic ‘Landings’. Then the compilation heads down many different avenues; at times I’m reminded of Global Communication - there’s even the essence of Ambient Techno in places. I know that sound’s an influence of Nigel’s and so it’s really fascinating to see a label push the boundaries like this, given that Folk music is its cornerstone. Some pieces take an almost apocalyptic stance as the guitar is warped into something otherworldly. All that said, it’s not the first time this community has amazed me by showing how despite their range of ideas, they can create something remarkably cohesive.

Which track would you say is your favourite and why?

That’s a tough one as I don’t think I could, or should, pick a favourite. But I will give a mention to a track I find myself checking the tracklist to see who it is… and that’s Down Barr Beacon’s ‘Salt Water Side’. I wasn’t aware until recently when we did another community project, that this is Phil Mercy’s solo alias. I knew Phil is also part of a band and we chatted over email before he joined us at the Still Point Ambient Festival. Not that I was there, sadly crying out due to a last minute illness… but anyhow, this album being more than a bit gargantuan, if you want something to wet your whistle - I recommend sticking this one on for starters.

Have you got any thoughts on the concept, artwork or any information you’d like to share from the liner notes?

Nigel’s done a great job on his branding for Folk Police and a cracking one on this album too. I’d already been impressed by the cover artwork, a photograph from Ian Sarjeant - but I was taken aback when Nigel handed me my copy, in the Gas Lab pub in Manchester, after aiding my choice of ale at the bar. The cover artwork and two discs sit within card sleeves and a transparent jacket. It’s a very well done DIY release - these things aren’t easy to pull off and tread the line between both quality and having a handmade feel.

In terms of the concept, it’s a fascinating starting point to take these old Folk recordings and allow these old tales to be retold, way over half a century later. It captures the spirit of Folk music perfectly - which after all, is about telling stories to pass down the generations. This album really pushes that into an interesting territory - traditional Folk songs often sound timeless, with a few acoustic strings and a voice arriving at a sound almost the same in the present as it did in the past. But here, through the eyes and ears of Ambient artists, the spirit is boiled down into an essence and then rebuilt into something new. It makes you wonder with the age of Electronic music now, constantly push boundaries, whether one might classify certain reflective, story-telling Electronic or Ambient records could be perceived as Folk?

*PS - if anyone sees the code below and wants to steal it, it’s unused… ;)
Although, maybe a little karma is due to you if you pay a little towards the digital download.

Why should fans of Ambient music spend time with this release?

There are lots of reasons - not least for the quality and to support the community. But I’d say most importantly it’s the cause. Silent Harvest Volume 2 has been raising money for a charity called ClientEarth.

The need to protect our environment is ever more pressing. You’ve only got to look at the extreme weather the world has faced this summer alone. We can all do our bit individually, making small changes. But a big challenge is where there businesses are conflicted between making money and protecting the planet. Real change to business practice can make a big difference, but where shareholders who pump big sums of cash into companies are concerned, it nearly always comes down to profit and loss. Regulation is being directed to firms to start to tackle this, and charities like ClientEarth exist to put pressure on businesses to make changes.

Whether regulation should come in heavy on the small guys just making art, that’s another story… (I’m looking at you PPWR!)

Links

Folk Police

Bandcamp
Instagram
Substack

What initially caught your attention about this record?

The sense of drama and the interesting combination of styles. The three main aspects of the record are classical/flamenco style acoustic guitar parts, beautiful chimey electric guitar and large, atmospheric, ambient drone sections. They come together in really interesting combinations to make something unique and very powerful.

Were you familiar with music by this artist or label previously?

I didn’t know the artist or label previously. I only heard about it because it was in the review list for Wall of Ambient and MTR label boss Ben asked if one of us would take a listen. As soon as I put it on I knew I was going to love it, so I’m grateful to learn about amazing music through Wall of Ambient!

When do you find yourself listening to it most?

This one definitely demands attention through its sheer power, emotion and contrasts. It benefits from being listened to loud so I would recommend listening to it whenever you can crank it up and shake the windows. There’s a great catharsis in the narrative of the album which is also very appealing to me at certain times and I’d recommend listening to the whole album if you can.

What does it remind you of, or what does it make you think about?

Some clean guitar sections remind me of Opeth’s Damnation and some of the louder parts on tracks like Echoing Monoliths and Where Stillness Breaks are almost reminiscent of Sunn O))). I’m tempted to call Notes on Drifting Shadows “post-metal”, though some research suggests that is already a genre. From the ambient sphere, these "heavy” sections are closer to Abul Mogard or KMRU and are perhaps more like those in tone - powerful and epic but less abrasive and less dark than the metal references above. The acoustic sections are all the more beautiful for what surrounds and interweaves them.

Which track would you say is your favourite and why?

Toccata Arpeggiata is a stunning unaccompanied acoustic guitar piece poised in the fulcrum of the album. A Slow Unfolding is the following climax and is such a brilliant combination of beauty and epicness that really shakes away any remaining cobwebs.

Have you got any thoughts on the concept, artwork or any information you’d like to share from the liner notes?

The album notes are three beautiful poetic paragraphs setting the scene for the album and begin “Raw tree branches stand stark before the sunrise as icicles caught napping in that glow begin to melt.” They present a beautiful perspective on the album and what is revealed as those icicles thaw. They also prime you for the expressive and artistic tone of the album.

Why should fans of Ambient music spend time with this release?

Guillaume Blache has created a unique ambient and experimental experience of great power and beauty. It would work brilliantly as a film score, though a film capable of matching this album would be an exceptional rarity. It’s a great piece of art with serious depth.

Links

Guillaume Blache

Bandcamp
Instagram

Machine Tribe Recordings (White)

Bandcamp

“a leaf that hasn’t yet decided where to fall” - what a stellar premise to open the mind up for what is waiting in Hiroaki Yamamoto’s debut full-length, and 7th instalment for the incredible Tone Studies series on Driftworks. It’s immediate from the first moments of album opener “Paths” that this is to be a very unhurried affair. The sense of a leaf floating on the wind is immediately indelible in the mind’s eye as the warm, lifted, undulating pad at the core of the introductory composition takes form, while sweeps of sonic fluctuations and slow LFOs create impressionistic, slow forming notes giving breath and life to the wind’s push and pull on the mental leaf.

A few compositions into the album, one can see why label-boss Andrew Heath roped this up into the Tone Studies series; a rich, almost palpable tone permeates the album across 9 beautifully executed drone-ambient pieces. This defining feature is strong in every sonic corner of every composition. It’s as though the album becomes a soundtrack for the leaf that is still yet to fall, as we journey along with it. All this floating-on-the-breeze and unhurried revealing would, on paper, be tantamount to calling the album “airy,” yet that does it no justice. These aren’t compositions that simply amble by, nor are happy to just float on the breeze, but instead they wrap around you, they hold you close, they lift you up, they offer comfort, they’re discernible, delineated, and definable, even in their slower pace of unfurling. These are cinematic, thought-provoking compositions, without a single throw-away moment across the entire set.

Could this all play out beautifully in the background of an airport? Yes. Could this be installment pieces for deep listening in art galleries? Yes. Could this be used as spa music to relax to while getting a massage? Yes. Could this be turned up in headphones while one meditates, or seeks reflection from within? Yes. It’s as though Yamamoto-san has checked all the necessary boxes of a great ambient outing, and no less one that wants to wrap itself around you, and bring you up on high with the leaf, as you too begin to ponder where you too would like to land.

An item of note across the album is the lengths for each composition. While Yamamoto-san could have let each track stretch out past the 6+ minute mark (and admittedly, I’m always on team ‘the longer the better for drone-based works’ in the ambient sphere), there’s a strong sense of purpose and intention in the sub-4-minute lengths across the album. Even the shortest composition on the album, “Empty” which clocks in just over 2 minutes, is anything but, well…empty. It makes use of every moment that it’s with you to express itself, and not a single note feels underused, or not fully explored - when each composition wraps, it’s without any waste or leftovers.

This is an album I’ve found myself returning to a lot of late, enjoying a calm, warm, sunny summer afternoon, late night overlooking our local pond, watching the summer storms roll through, effectively letting life be a continuous field recording while Yamamoto-san’s work plays the soundtrack to a multitude of my own special moments. I’d be hard pressed to say any one environment amplifies this versatile body of work more than another, and as such, I’ve begun to ask myself if I am now the leaf that’s unable to decide where to land? If one allows oneself to be consumed by all the noise and doom-scrolling of the world today, they’d miss out on their opportunity to find a sense of tranquility like the one Yamamoto-san has so perfectly captured on this album; one that everyone should take a moment to experience in the over-charged world of today. This is an album to disconnect to; to put the screens away for, take a moment to ponder that leaf that hasn’t decided yet where to land, and follow it. Highly recommended listening herein, folks.

Links

Hiroaki Yamamoto

Bandcamp
Instagram

Driftworks

Bandcamp
Instagram

Verano Oxidado by Miguel Otero & David Cordero is a phenomenal, 10-minute, 2-track EP, released on Noray Records. The first track “Sal” is a stunning, warm blanket of sound that instantly puts a smile on my face when I hear its gently swelling opening chords and burbling birds. These are complimented by a beautiful descending arpeggio which dances across the stereo field. The track builds through gentle addition of further layers and quiet, shimmering details until the ascending motif feels gently ecstatic. It’s an absolutely wonderful combination of musical ideas executed perfectly.

The second, “Hierro” is slightly more delicate and melancholic feeling - it is beautifully poised in its hazy atmosphere and place while still having a flow throughout its running time. Here the field recordings move us from birds to a shore, with waves lapping gently throughout. There’s a delightful call-and-response between the tracks as well as a strong sense of place, and summer heat - the slow flow of “Hierro” is a perfect follow-on to the heady heights of “Sal”.

The liner notes summarise the mood perfectly - “inspired by summers in southern Spain, the EP emerges from the observation of a place whose identity seems to fade with each passing season… that invite the listener to pause and hear what endures, even as everything around it continues to change.” The EP is simultaneously a beautiful quiet pause to sit and bask in and a work of great depth to potentially take you somewhere completely new. This is magnified by the two wonderful accompanying video pieces for each of the tracks available on David Cordero’s YouTube channel.

I highly recommend watching both - the visuals and audio cross-pollinate superbly and give extra perspectives to each. This is a collaboration of the highest order and is well worth its running time and many relistens.

Links

David Cordero

Bandcamp
Instagram

Miguel Otero

Bandcamp
Instagram

Noray Records

Bandcamp
Instagram

What initially caught your attention about this record?

I’ve followed Danny Clay’s music for many years now, so it’s the fact that I know he’ll make something impressive every time. Simply seeing the notification that he had a new record out, was enough to grab my attention.

Were you familiar with music by this artist or label previously?

Yes, I’ve been admiring Danny’s work since I released his collaborative EP with Quinn Walker back in 2011, on my old Audio Gourmet netlabel. Shortly after he was branching out with solo releases on the likes of Heat Death, Hibernate and Eilean. The latter was the predecessor to this label - IIKKI and I had the pleasure of releasing music on it myself a couple of times. So I’ve tracked the journey of Mathias Van Eecloo’s labels too. He has built up something incredible - from those foundations laid with Eilean, where he had a repeatable theme, consistency and surely, where he learnt how to juggle many different artists, releases and get all the logistics down. Nowadays, IIKKI and sister label Laaps are releasing a little less frequently, but the emphasis is on fine art packaging and absolute pristine quality. Surely, one of the best record labels out there these days.

When do you find yourself listening to it most?

I’ve been repeatedly sticking this album on whilst working, streaming it mostly. Because it is built around a recurring theme and structure, when it repeats on Spotify, I don’t really notice and so the album can loop through 2-3 times without me noticing in particular. It’s a pleasant space to inhabit. I’d add that as I write today, it’s done this again… looped through a couple of times. Because I’m sat on a train to Manchester which got delayed! I knew I’d missed my transfer and as I type now, I know that I’ll be late for my work meeting. This album has served as a slow and positive influence on a frustrating morning. It’s helped me to accept the situation and has taken away the stress.

What does it remind you of, or what does it make you think about?

The piano on this one has me thinking back to Budd’s in his collaboration with Brian Eno, Ambient 2: The Plateaux of Mirror. It must be the chorus or tape effect, but it definitely reminds me of that album. But, the strings that accompany it somehow feel a little more dry and present by comparison which is a nice contrast. You can feel both grounded where you are, and distant at the same time. The strings have me thinking a little about Christoph Berg’s Paraphrases - one of my all-time favourite records, so that’s no bad thing!

Which track would you say is your favourite and why?

In this case, this is even harder than normal…because the four parts across the 37 minute duration are essentially one composition, which ebbs and flows. So, I’m going to dodge this question!

Have you got any thoughts on the concept, artwork or any information you’d like to share from the liner notes?

I must admit, before writing this post, I hadn’t read the liner notes on the Bandcamp page. It’s not unusual for most IIKKI or Laaps releases to have minimal information on an album concept so incorrectly, I assumed this one would be based around the album title, artwork and the accompanying photography booklet only. But I now understand that this album is a dedication to the late Swedish photographer Gunnar Smoliansky. Danny tells us that his music is deeply connected to Smoliansky’s work. All IIKKI releases have a special deluxe edition which includes a booklet containing visual artwork and for this one, it’s fittingly a tribute to Gunnar’s photography. The Bandcamp page also includes a tribute by Jäger Márky Arén of the Gunnar Smoliansky Foundation.

Why should fans of Ambient music spend time with this release?

I think put simply, if you’ve ever enjoyed Budd and Eno’s Ambient 2: The Plateaux of Mirror (that’s most of you?) - then this one’s a must listen.

Links

Danny Clay

Bandcamp
Website

IIKKI

Bandcamp
Instagram

How do some ambient musicians manage to be so productive? Some produce so many albums, it's hard to keep up, making the whole process of music creation appear effortless. Trust me - it isn't! Akira Film Script, the project of American musician Ryan Watts, is one such producer, with recent releases on a wide diversity of labels including Whitelabrecs, Shimmering Moods, Off Record Label, SeeHear Recordings, Evergreen Music, Machine Tribe, reset networks, Rohs Records and others. Here he appears on the ever-expanding 'SITE' series on Driftworks, which is curated collaboratively with Audiobulb. And what an enjoyable addition to the catalogue this is.

I tend to associate Ryan's music with a rather restless sense of energy; often his work is densely layered and deeply textural. Here he's in a more reflective mood, which is even Eno-esque at times. The theme of the album is home - specifically his childhood home, and the inevitable feelings of nostalgia that this evokes. The basis of the compositions is a series of field recordings made in different rooms in this house, including the garage and back yard. These were recorded to cassette, to lend a little tape hiss - always a good starting point for ambient creations of this nature, and a nice way of adding another layer of nostalgia.

The tracks were then written, recorded and mixed on the OP-1 field, a versatile device beloved by many ambient producers. They were then assembled in a computer with no edits, thereby conserving the artefacts and errors intrinsic to the process. This consistency in instrumentation and approach across the eight tracks of the album provides a high degree of coherence; the result really is like visiting different rooms of the same house.

The sound of something akin to an electric piano takes centre stage throughout, with the field recordings typically dialled quite low in the mix, adding subtle elements to the overall flavour. These components are blended with synth-based textures and pads, some of which provide fairly thunderous (and very welcome) bass at times. The overall effect is languid and sometimes meandering; there is little sense of a clear structure or narrative journey. This is very impressionistic territory, perhaps evoking some of Ryuichi Sakamoto's piano work at times. There's a strong focus on melody, however - liquid figures of electric piano appear and disappear throughout, billowing like wind agitating the curtains of an otherwise empty room. The melodic richness is tempered, though, by occasional forays into atonality. This adds an unexpected edge to some of the pieces, creating a sense of tension. As a result this music is never bland, and always rewarding.

Is there a sense of journey or of forward motion as the album progresses? If present, it's hard to detect. Perhaps there's a tendency towards greater density, or murkiness, in the later tracks. Almost as if the listener is gradually being submerged. Yet the music always feels authentic, personal, straight from the heart. There is clearly a lot of emotion woven into these pieces, perhaps even a little sadness at a childhood disappearing in a rear-view mirror. If this more reflective approach represents a new departure for the composer, then it's a very welcome one - hopefully it's a territory that he'll continue to explore.

Links:

Akira Film Script

Bandcamp
Instagram

Driftworks

Bandcamp
Instagram
Website

There are records that quietly earn your attention.

Unna, the new collaborative EP from Michael A. Muller and Otto A. Totland, belongs firmly in this category. Across five concise pieces, the duo create a world of profound stillness where every note, every breath of ambience, and every lingering resonance feels deliberate.

The title, Unna - the Norwegian word for "away" - captures the spirit of the music perfectly. It speaks not only to the geographical distance between Muller in Los Angeles and Totland in Norway during the recording process, but also to the act of stepping away from distraction into a space of deep listening. That philosophy is woven into every second of the EP.

Totland's piano remains the emotional centre of the record. His playing is characteristically restrained, favouring fragile melodies that seem to emerge from silence rather than interrupt it. Muller responds not by embellishing the piano but by expanding its emotional landscape with subtle layers of double bass, Mellotron, Rhodes, glockenspiel, and field recordings. The result is less a conversation than a shared meditation.

The opening miniature, "Eterisk", acts as a gentle invitation before "Tredje" unfolds into one of the EP's richest moments, balancing melancholy with quiet optimism. "Lys To" glows with understated warmth, while "Ekstra" introduces slightly denser textures without disturbing the prevailing calm. By the closing track, "Rolig", the music has reached a remarkable sense of acceptance, ending not with resolution but with peaceful suspension.

What makes Unna so compelling is its confidence in restraint. Nothing feels rushed, overworked or designed to impress. Instead, Muller and Totland trust silence as much as sound, allowing the spaces between notes to become part of the composition itself. It's an approach that recalls the finest moments of contemporary ambient and modern classical music while maintaining a distinctive identity rooted in intimacy and analogue warmth.

At just seventeen minutes, Unna is over almost before you realise it has begun. Yet its emotional resonance lingers long afterwards, inviting repeated listens that reveal new details with each return. In an era of constant distraction, this is music that asks for patience—and rewards it generously.

Links

Michael A Muller

Bandcamp
Website

Otto Totland

Bandcamp
Website

There are some artists who don't need to chase new ideas to stay interesting.

Michael Cottone has been releasing music as The Green Kingdom for well over a decade, and with Vespera, his first album for Whitelabrecs, he proves once again that subtlety and consistency can be just as rewarding as reinvention.

The album feels rooted in twilight. Piano, softly treated guitar and warm ambient textures drift together at an unhurried pace, creating music that invites you to slow down. Nothing here feels forced. Every piece unfolds naturally, allowing melodies to appear and disappear like fading light. What makes Vespera so engaging is its warmth.

There's a quiet melancholy running through the record, but it's never heavy or overly sentimental. Instead, it feels reflective, full of memories that are just out of reach. The piano plays a bigger role than on some earlier Green Kingdom releases, adding a gentle emotional pull without overwhelming the surrounding textures.

Whitelabrecs has always had an ear for music inspired by landscape and atmosphere, so this feels like a perfect fit. The label suits Cottone's understated approach, letting every small detail breathe. One of the strengths of Vespera is that it never tries too hard. In a genre where it's easy to mistake complexity for depth, Cottone achieves more with a handful of carefully chosen sounds than many artists manage with far larger palettes. The album is calm and immersive without fading completely into the background.

This isn't an album built around standout moments or dramatic crescendos. Its impact comes from spending time with it. The more you listen, the more its small details begin to reveal themselves, and the more its gentle mood settles in. Vespera is a beautifully crafted collection from an artist who knows exactly what he wants to say and how to say it. For fans of The Green Kingdom, it's another quietly satisfying chapter.

For Whitelabrecs, it's another release that reinforces the label's reputation for thoughtful, deeply listenable ambient music.

Links

The Green Kingdom

Bandcamp
Instagram

Whitelabrecs

Bandcamp
Instagram
Substack

What initially caught your attention about this record?

I was invited to a Bandcamp listening party for the album and luckily was free that night. I’m so glad I was!

Were you familiar with music by this artist or label previously?

I didn’t know Enrico Coniglio but had listened to other albums from Elm Records and joined their mailing list. I’ll definitely be checking out more of both.

When do you find yourself listening to it most?

Mostly while travelling, though, despite the albums themes of delay, those travels have mostly been pretty smooth! 13/19/32 A Catalogue of Delays somehow has an incredible cleansing quality and has been perfect when heading home from work. At the opposite end of the spectrum, I can also imagine luxuriating in it on a slow weekend morning.

What does it remind you of, or what does it make you think about?

Abstractly, dancing rainbows (perhaps influenced by the beautiful album art) and rain slowly running down a window. Musically, as mentioned in the liner notes, there is definite influence from Robert Fripp, but to me it sounds like a combination of the huge drama of Abul Mogard and the floating loops of Eno. There are definitely large themes, cosmological and timely, being tackled here while also providing contrast through some delightful quiet moments.

Which track would you say is your favourite and why?

Listening yesterday while preparing this I was pondering this question and after each new track that came on I thought “oh yeah, this is my favourite”. Today, I’ll say In Spite of Everything for its cathedral shaking climax and beautiful slow build.

Have you got any thoughts on the concept, artwork or any information you’d like to share from the liner notes?

The liner notes are a fascinating look into the processes behind the creation of the album. The fact that so much has been made from a Roland guitar synthesiser, those 13, 19 and 32 second delays and some quite minimal use of field recordings to transition between locations is a remarkable achievement. There is a retro quality to the release, perhaps coming from that Roland synth and the Fripp/Eno sound, but the album also feels deeply modern and speaks in a variety of ways to our current times. As the liner notes state: “13/19/32" inhabits the tension between… structure and spontaneity, between mechanical repetition and human intervention.” The album is a stunning listen even without this context though - it’s a brilliant example of process being shepherded by artistic choice to create something much bigger, and more moving, than the sum of its parts.

Why should fans of Ambient music spend time with this release?

As Enrico Coniglio put it, these are “seven immersive pieces exploring delay, time, resonance, and slowly evolving textures” and each exploration is exquisite. It’s at times dramatic, intense and emotional while also floating into gentler sections and toward extended drone pieces. This album has a lot to offer and really rewards re-listening. Let your ears be grabbed by those beautiful repeating synth melodies and see where they take you.

Links

Enrico Coniglio

Bandcamp
Website

Elm Records

Bandcamp
Facebook
Instagram

Rhucle is Tokyo-based composer, sound artist and ambient musician Yuta Kudo. Using a palette of synthesizers, piano, field recordings and found sounds, he has released over 60 albums in the past 13 years, both self-released and on Constellation Tatsu, Stereoscenic, The Lontano Series and many other labels. He’s collaborated with - amongst others - City of Dawn, Arbee, Morimoto Naoki, Peter Bark and Toni Dimitrov. In fact, Rhucle’s previous appearances on the Home Normal label have both been collaborations: two absolutely gorgeous albums with David Cordero, 2023’s Summer Chronicles and the 2025 follow up, So Far, So Close. The Water is his debut solo outing with the label. Not that Rhucle needs any encouragement, but there is something about releasing on Home Normal that brings out the best in artists.

With Rucle’s music, there’s a keen sense that the listener is being granted permission to momentarily glimpse the unfurling of something intimate and private. Whilst The Water is not an album of miniatures exactly, each track is fleeting - any of them could have been double their current length and still not overstayed their welcome. At times I was almost disappointed that something so beautiful could be over so quickly, but Rucle is an artist who understands the value of saying exactly what he needs to say and nothing more.

The water alluded to on opener ‘Ring of Light’ is contained, placid and still – the track almost feels ritualistic, with sounds reminiscent of a church organ, strings, bells, and a wordless, celestial choir. At first, the piece feels minimal, but the closer you listen, the more you hear. As with much of the album, the track is cocooned in ringing, reverberating overtones that are splendidly disorientating. ‘Switching’ is the sound of a plunge pool deep in the forest, while ‘Amber’ evokes dappled sunlight on the surface of a slow-moving river – whilst there is movement, it is lazy and languid.

水の駅 feels like the promise of rain on a hot day. The atmosphere is humid and oppressive yet strangely pleasurable. This piece is a rich feast of tones and drones wrapped around an almost Keith Jarrett-esque piano motif. More so than anything else on the album, it feels like an affectionate homage to the Kankyō Ongaku pioneers of the 1980s. Closing track 平行線 has the feel of a grand finale: the overtones are like heat haze and combine with the long, echoing tendrils of reverb to achieve a cinematic grandeur – here we might be waiting for the sun set on an impossibly beautiful beach.

This may be an album about water, but it also feels very much like an album about summer. As I sit in my patch of shade in my postage-stamp sized city garden, sheltering from and sweltering in an endless heatwave, the air tainted with smoke from the wildfires on the moors beyond the city boundary, the afternoon soundtracked by relentless police sirens, chainsaws and low flying jet planes, The Water transports me to a different time and place. It’s an album of fading snapshots of a long-gone summer’s day, evoking a gentle nostalgia for childhood, for innocence, for a never-ending August of sunscreen and ice cream and cooling down in the water. This sense of yearning for a possibly imaged past is only enhanced by Rhucle’s endless loops of bell-like reverberation.

In a recent interview with James Osland for his Moor Thoughts podcast, Home Normal’s Ian Hawgood noted that since moving to the south coast of England in recent years, he has become somewhat preoccupied with water as a motif. On this gorgeous, if ephemeral release, Rhucle responds to this preoccupation with a beautiful, meticulous focus.

Links

Rhucle

Bandcamp
Website

Home Normal

Bandcamp

Before we begin, one must understand the cinematic connection between James Osland and Thomas Hoey - the two parties responsible for the Tomosla project. James’ film editing and camera operating chops are well known in ambient circles, aside from his astonishing musical works, and Thomas might be a more recognizable name to those in the gaming OST community, handling sound design for games, film, television, and radio. That’s two powerhouses on paper, yet combined they render an ambient force greater than the sum of each part.

Many years ago (decades, now) I’d lived in the Richmond District in San Francisco, and on sunny days I’d walk solo, or with friends, from 5th Ave to Ocean Beach; a transformative journey from the bustling Asian-influenced shopping and dining district to the wide open Pacific and it’s cool breeze carrying that distinct salty fragrance. I bring this path up as Moor to Sea takes me instantly, directly back to those days; those walks, those moments, and the transitional neighbourhoods along that path. From the stunning album opener “Twin Source” and it’s sonic palette making a perfectly patient soundtrack for memories filled with the shuffle of folks and vehicles in the Inner Richmond shopping and dining district, as observed from a viewer, sitting on high, buried in headphones, cancelling out the city’s chaos, to “Drawn From Stone” evoking the outer neighbourhood and it’s peace, bay windows bathed in afternoon sunlight as the shops faded in the east and life slowed down for a few brief moments; these are almost direct sonic representation of the memories of my routine journeys westward.

I’d almost have to imagine Moor to Sea as the perfect soundtrack for any walk to any ocean anywhere; snaking through Greek coastal architecture along cobbled roads, walking down the main drag to the white sand beach of Carmel-by-the-Sea, California, Portuguese fishing villages as one heads down in the morning to gather the day’s freshest catch…this album is the soundtrack to those trips descending, towards, to. “Low Sky, Soft Water” continues to drive my memories of traversing the city to sea, marking the perfect midpoint of my personal journey as I’d pass Park Presidio; in a way, a point of no return, as any further only warranted moving onward - the suspense of uncertainty the track opens with perfectly captures that internal moment of “there’s no turning back now,” and not least because you’ve found yourself wrapped in a 20+ minute epic that unfurls slowly, revealing delicate layer building that culminates in dreamy pads and ghosted notes that evoke the golden hue as the light was bending towards the horizon, painting white houses in warm, rich yellow tones, reflecting mirror images back off the glass, as shadows began to gather under the sparse business awnings and corner stores.

After this, there was the final hill to climb, bringing me to the edge of Clement St. and the final bars and restaurants before the continental shelf dropped off abruptly onto the sands of Ocean Beach, where I’d witnessed many, possibly countless, sunsets, all of which would have been perfectly soundtracked by the beautiful tones of album closer “Split by Light.” There’s a real visual sense to Moor to Sea that I’d wager is an unintentional by-product of the two artists herein spilling from a cup that runneth over from creativity. To imagine Thomas arriving at James’ house, gear in tow, for a session before the two wrap and take a stroll down to the water for the end of the day isn’t far from a reality based on the worlds these compositions paint in one’s mind. These gentlemen imprint the sounds of the sea without the sonic aid of an ocean field recording; sounds flowing like tides, waves of audio gently sweeping a coastal shoreline.

Moor to Sea is a transformative experience; a true sonic journey. At 4 tracks and just about an hour, there’s this uncanny blink-and-you-missed-it sense that completing the journey gives you. Like the best of Ambient, it can, and will, fade into the background and act as a soundtrack to your hour, however you choose to surround yourself for that time, but as the saying goes, time flies when you’re having fun - and it’s more than easy to press play again on this album, finding new sounds and sonic artifacts with each subsequent listen.

Another wondrous facet of experiencing this album, and one rooted to their cinematic backgrounds, is their innate ability to make 9 minutes of music feel just like 23 minutes; they’re masters at manipulating time and space. While cinematic credit always seems to favor the lap of the director, and in this case all kudos due to the indelible Home Normal label for putting this album out into the world, including yet another stellar Ian Hagwood master, however herein your resident camera operator and sound designer show in a wondrous team effort how the greatest directors are only as good as the team they’ve built around themselves. While others are left to fuss about with the macro issues surrounding great music, James and Thomas focus in like a close up through the camera’s lens on the finer details surrounding the transition from solid land to wide open ocean, the journey itself split by light, conjuring memories both distant and near of coastal scenes with a narrative sense that is both undeniable and breathtakingly accurate.

Moor to Sea stands not only as a soundtrack to blissful coastal memories, but also represents a sonic palette for painting the days to come, dripping with hopeful tones, ushered in by audible light, across the waves of time, supporting the crunch or shuffle of every gravel or grain as you seek wonder in an ever raucous world. Moor to Sea reminds us to slow down and appreciate the details of the moment, to put our devices away and look about, soaking in our surroundings, feeling the spray of the sea, or the warmth of the sun’s light on our faces. Moor to Sea is about connections; the connection between two artists, the connection between land and water, the connection between light and life, the connection between artist and listener, the connection between director and audience, but mostly the connection between us and our environment, asking us to briefly stop and just be here now.

Links

James Osland

Bandcamp
Label

Thomas Hoey

Bandcamp
Website

Home Normal

Bandcamp

What initially caught your attention about this record?

It was simply a case of seeing that Shakali has another album out! The artwork likely grabbed me first though, before I read who the music was by. I love its intricate yet simple aesthetic.

Were you familiar with music by this artist or label previously

I’ve known Not Not Fun for many years now - loving their exotic sounds. In 2018 it was Magnétophonique’s ‘Une Cartographie Idéale’ that I absolutely adored, one of my albums of the year back then. And that led to me being all-ears to their subsequent output, meaning I took a listen to Shakali’s ‘Rihmastossa’ a couple of years back. This also ended up in my end of year list, in 2024. I described that album as “this album really is so much fun - it’s absolutely mad, with so many strange sounds carefully, deliberately, and accidentally littered across it”.

When do you find yourself listening to it most?

It’s been very warm here in the UK - almost tropical in fact. I’ve found that more often than not, if the sun’s out, this album goes on.

I’d just add, whilst it doesn’t relate to the question here… I’m thrilled to be enjoying some Shakali on vinyl! I didn’t have a tape player when Rihmastossa came out and it had sold out by the time I got my player.

What does it remind you of, or what does it make you think about?

This one definitely puts me in the same state as the Rihmastossa album, and the aforementioned Magnétophonique record. Its exotic sounds will take you off to some place far, far away. It’s got this lovely blend of Ambient, Spiritual Jazz and Folk so my mind races with thoughts of other artists, labels and scenes. Pharoah Sanders and Alice Coltrane might come to mind, as well the likes of Japanese artists such as Meitei or Aus. The times I’ve listened to this album and thought, I must make a mixtape of stuff that’s built around one or two of these tracks.

Which track would you say is your favorite and why?

I’d perhaps choose closing track ‘Ylin’, mainly because it’s a little deeper and more reflective, with distant woodwinds, hushed string-like passages and beautiful field recordings. But, it’s weird to choose this track - as the main reason I love this album is for its sense of movement, percussion and fun!

Have you got any thoughts on the concept, artwork or any information you’d like to share from the liner notes?

My preference for a detailed and palpable concept in an album is well documented - probably by me! In this album, we have the translation of Toinen Luonto, meaning ‘second nature’. We’re told this talks of how Simo Hakalisto’s work feels deeply rooted to the earth in many ways - and also, how he has developed an adeptness at crafting sounds from such a wide pool of sources. This simple starting point set out in the press release doesn’t go into the intricacies or complexities that you’ll no doubt experience when you listen. But, this does allow for so much listener interpretation. My imagination has me placed on a remote pacific island, sat on the sand listening to live performances with instruments I didn’t even know existed.

Why should fans of Ambient Music spend time with this release?

There may be some Ambient fans who may prefer synths and drones and that’s fair enough. But if you like to be surprised, transported and delighted by otherworldly sounds - this one’s for you.

Links

Shakali

Bandcamp
Instagram

Not Not Fun

Bandcamp
Website

It is always exciting to see a new release arrive on the Dronarivm catalogue, but when I discovered that the latest addition came from Ryan Bissett under his Halftribe alias, my anticipation immediately reached another level. Over the past decade, Ryan has developed a body of work that feels immediately recognisable. Across a succession of beautifully understated releases, he has refined a sound built around slow transformation, delicate harmonic movement and an instinctive understanding of atmosphere. Each record has deepened that language without ever abandoning the intimacy that has become central to the Halftribe project.

Disappear in Silent Ways marks his third release for Dronarivm and his first full-length album since 2022, making it a particularly welcome return. Four years is a significant amount of time in any artist’s creative journey, and there is a clear sense throughout this record that these compositions have been allowed to mature naturally. Nothing feels hurried or overworked. Instead, the album carries the confidence of an artist who has spent time refining not only his ideas, but also his understanding of how little is often needed to create something deeply affecting.

Ryan’s music has always occupied a fascinating space between environmental sound, drone and contemporary ambient composition. Soft analogue-inspired synthesisers, carefully captured field recordings and the occasional fragment of processed voice are woven together into immersive environments that feel both intimate and expansive. Listening to a Halftribe album has never felt like simply hearing a collection of compositions; it is more akin to stepping into a landscape that slowly unfolds around you, inviting you to move through it at your own pace.

That sense of immersion has never felt stronger than it does here. Disappear in Silent Ways embraces minimalism not as an aesthetic choice, but as a compositional philosophy. Rather than continually introducing new ideas, Ryan explores how existing sounds can gradually evolve over time. There is an impressive economy to the arrangements. Nothing feels excessive or ornamental; each element arrives naturally, contributing to the wider landscape before quietly giving way to something else. The result is music that remains in constant motion despite appearing almost completely still.

Soft drones gently ebb and flow throughout the album, unfolding with extraordinary patience. Harmonic changes emerge so gradually that they often pass unnoticed until the emotional colour of a piece has subtly transformed. There is an almost tidal quality to these compositions. Sounds recede before returning in altered forms, creating the sensation of gentle movement rather than obvious progression. The music seems less interested in destination than in the quiet beauty of transition itself.

One of Ryan’s greatest strengths has always been his sensitivity to timbre. His drones possess remarkable depth without relying on density, each sustained tone filled with tiny harmonic shifts that quietly reshape the surrounding space. There is always something changing beneath the surface, encouraging attentive listening while never demanding it. The album trusts the listener to discover these details naturally, allowing each return to uncover something previously unnoticed.

Brief melodic gestures occasionally emerge from the surrounding drones, surfacing almost by accident before dissolving back into the wider texture. They never announce themselves, instead appearing at the edge of perception, inviting the listener to lean in without ever demanding attention. Just as they begin to settle in the ear they seem to recede again, leaving behind only an emotional outline rather than something easily remembered. Ryan seems less interested in writing memorable themes than in capturing the sensation of trying to hold onto something that is already slipping away.

That feeling of transience quietly runs throughout the entire record. Even the title, Disappear in Silent Ways, suggests a gentle acceptance of impermanence rather than loss. There is no overt melancholy here, nor any desire to dwell on nostalgia. Instead, the album reflects upon the quiet beauty found in constant change, allowing sounds to emerge, linger briefly and disappear with complete naturalness. It becomes a meditation on the passing of moments rather than an attempt to preserve them.

The recurring presence of water quietly binds the album together. Rain falling against distant surfaces, slow-moving streams and subtle currents become recurring reference points, giving the music a tangible sense of movement and place. Alongside these are delicate recordings of birdsong, insects and shifting natural ambience that gently root the compositions within recognisable landscapes without ever becoming overly descriptive.

What makes these environmental recordings so effective is the way they dissolve into the surrounding electronic textures. There are moments where it becomes impossible to separate instrument from environment, as though both are breathing within the same acoustic space. Rather than simply decorating the compositions, these sounds become part of the musical language itself, dissolving the boundaries between landscape and composition.

The album never insists upon interpretation. Its strength lies in observation rather than narration, allowing each listener to discover their own emotional connection within these slow-moving environments. Listening often feels less like following a story and more like quietly witnessing the changing details of a familiar landscape — light shifting across water, wind moving through trees or distant sounds gradually emerging before disappearing once more.

What impresses me most is Ryan’s willingness to leave ideas unresolved. He resists the temptation to continually expand his compositions, trusting that subtle shifts in harmony, texture and atmosphere can hold the listener’s attention far more effectively than dramatic crescendos ever could.

This patience extends across the album as a whole. Each composition flows naturally into the next, creating the feeling of one continuous environment rather than a sequence of individual tracks. Time almost seems to dissolve as the record unfolds, making it difficult to distinguish where one piece ends and another begins. The production throughout is beautifully understated.

Every texture occupies its own place within the stereo field, allowing even the quietest details room to breathe. Despite the richness of the sound palette, there is an extraordinary sense of openness that gives the music its calming presence.

This is not an album that seeks to make an immediate impression. Its emotional depth accumulates gradually, becoming richer with familiarity. Details that initially seem almost imperceptible begin to shape the character of each piece, rewarding attentive listening without ever feeling demanding. Like the changing landscapes it evokes, the album never remains quite the same from one listen to the next.

Four years may have passed since Ryan’s last full-length release, but this never feels like an artist trying to announce his return. Instead, it feels like the natural continuation of an already remarkable body of work. It is a record that celebrates stillness without becoming static, finding quiet beauty in slow movement, subtle transformation and careful observation. Within an already exceptional catalogue, this stands as one of Halftribe’s most assured, immersive and quietly affecting releases to date.

Reviewed by James Osland

Disappear in Silent Ways
Halftribe Bandcamp
Halftribe Instagram
Dronarivm Bandcamp

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Writing about music (especially ambient) is always a challenge, as language can succeed in providing an aural description of a piece (pitch, timbre, tone, weight, etc.), but often fails to convey the feelings or experiences that it imparts. Such is the challenge I face when trying to convey the content of Visible Light’s latest release, Sierra de Luquillo: A Living Soundscape.

For it’s the latter half of the title that truly colors this entire work, and dry words tend to lose their meaning in the living world. Instead, I close my eyes and attempt to convey what I see when I listen to this music… Lightning bugs hover at the edge of the firelight as tree frogs serenade the night. Pops and snaps send embers spiraling up into the dark, slowly fading into nothing as they ascend. Each breath seems to draw the quiet closer. Then, from that soft darkness, the plaintive tone of a cello unfurls, graceful, languid, embracing hope and melancholy in unison. Its open chords ripple out across the open field, gentle as the drifting embers.

Pan pipes soon join the chorus as we sit beneath a moon obscured by clouds, cocooned in sound. This moment stretches, each second dripping like sweet honey until a gentle rain descends and the distant chimes of a wind gong echo on the breeze. On and on the music flows, hypnotically morphing, yet never losing that deep hope and melancholy, grounded where it had begun. Before long, it is impossible to distinguish where the landscape ends and memory begins.

The whisper of wind through unseen branches and the quiet conversation of insects cease to be accompaniment and instead become the foundation upon which every new voice gently settles. Nothing arrives abruptly. Each new texture is patiently revealed, as though it had always been there, waiting somewhere beyond the edge of hearing. There is remarkable confidence in that restraint. Rather than demanding attention, this music rewards surrender. It invites stillness instead of spectacle, allowing the smallest shifts in harmony or timbre to carry surprising emotional weight.

A single sustained note from the cello lingers just long enough to color everything that follows, while the pan pipes drift in and out like half-remembered conversations carried on the evening air. Even silence plays its part. Spaces are left unfilled, allowing the field recordings to breathe naturally. Together they become participants in the performance, reminding us that nature has always possessed its own quiet orchestra. And at last, all that came before combines into a final symphony; the cello, pipes, and bells intermingled and inseparable. The clouds part and lush moonlight descends. And so we part, the tree frogs singing on into the night; endless, placid, perfect.

Links

Visible Light

Bandcamp

Permaculture Media

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Jeff Dügfelder, better known within Ambient circles as the unmistakable and ever-working Ümlaut has been at his solo project now for almost a decade, if not a touch more. In addition to his steady flow of releases, Jeff appears to fill his time working through collaborations, visual works, and his CAMP Radio show Listening Pearls. Now, Jeff looks all the part of an elder statesman of the modern Ambient playing field, however he has proven time and again to never play the role of gatekeeper, constantly giving back to the community, creating, and folding efforts back in upon themselves to continue a steady, inspired flow of output, both sonically and visually that lifts many artists in the space up while humbly sharing his own works - a true set of efforts in the ‘leave it better than how you found it’ approach to anything in life.

As I like to say, a rising tide lifts all boats; Jeff makes sure there’s invites to moor at his docks and come inside for a warm meal. It’s with all this in mind that I was thoroughly intrigued by what Jeff might consider an idea I’ve always been afraid to coin, or portend to be a part of: Post-Ambient music. Yes, the dreaded post- or neo-, or even nü- (sorry, couldn’t help myself there with the umlaut, hahaha) that comes for all forms of music at some point in time. Now, I don’t particularly believe we’re at the stage of needing something after ambient, and thankfully it appears, neither does Jeff. What ensues here is arguably a setlist that’s even more Ambient than modern ambient music. These are stripped down, stripped away compositions of minimalism showcasing lesser elements, more space, and room to breathe that collectively may sound like lowercase music on paper, but it’s quite the opposite.

From opener “Quiet Apparatus” and it’s post-chill out room minimalism, complete with languid Detroit-inspired synths bending and forming around recurring fractal memories that phase in and out as waves of your first R&S record purchase crash gently upon your mental shores, to closer, the eponymous “After Ambient,” where distant, doppler-departing rave sirens slowly cry in the distance as electro-minimalistic insects begin to move about before a stripped down, Paterson-like loop takes center stage, and waves of bit-reduced sonics continue to phase in and out, it’s undeniable that a master is at work, truly stripping away the over saturated, long-trail reverbs and granular washes that persist in today’s Ambient production environments.

Between the influences creeping through, and Jeff’s restrained approach herein, I’d even say that this could have sat comfortably within the ambient-techno-minimalism of the 90s underground, and no less, a unique voice within that space and time. Yes, it’s easy to simply say Jeff’s work herein is ostensibly timeless. Had someone shown me this and told me with full conviction that it was an album from 2002, I’d not blink an eye past wondering how something so complete missed my radar in my heyday chasing these kinds of sonics. Now, the album isn’t a set of nostalgia bombs or recognizable synth elements wishing they had more verb and sounding ‘old school’ by way of an absence of modern production abuses; don’t let my nostalgia-baiting fool you.

“Negative Space” fuses acoustic elements with bits of musique concrète in what starts as a quiet, pensive moment in a cottage-like home, late in the afternoon, almost twilight, as the dust floats gently in the last rays of the sun’s golden light entering through a nearby window whilst the rest of the house is shrouded in shadow, however just as soon as you become comfortable in this space, a person enters; the air changes, the weight of the room’s atmosphere shifts - it’s a masterful play on sonic narratives that in the wrong hands could just become downright creepy and unwelcoming, but in Jeff’s capable hands, it tells a whole tale.

Speaking on narratives and storytelling, each track on the album acts as its own little world. There’s no suffusion from tracks bleeding together. No two compositions tell the same story. Jeff is at no loss of narratives across the 7 worlds on this project. “Fault Memory” comes in as stripped down, distant slowcore-meets-funk evoking a busker working out the nuances of fretboard fluctuations through a repeated blues-like riff, all before his minds eye begins to open and he connects with the cosmos and mentally transcends while the camera pans out to reveal he was in the depths of a Neo-noir, Cyberpunk city akin Scott’s L.A. in distant 2019, all before the camera begins to show you further vignettes from within the futuristic city's wasteland, moving from the single-individual-opening to ending overlooking the city scape from high above, awash in orange light and flying vehicles all painted by fractals of light translated through the steady, tangible raindrops falling en masse from a distant, unseeable troposphere.

Musique Concrète plays a central role on the album as you get deeper into it, and in the best ways possible. “Structural Silence,” “Interior Signal,” and “Unresolved Terrain” all lean heavily into the Concrète-o-sphere, but Jeff isn’t here on this outing to wash these sounds in resonators, reverbs, tape delays, space delays, or anything else from the traditional Musique Concrète playbook - each non-musical element lives and breathes their own sonic lives, not unlike the best works from Cobain & Dougans circa Lifeforms, making for these alien worlds that become more visual as you let go of trying to identify each sound and what the source could have possibly been.

I’m left to wonder if the title “After Ambient” was a bit of a shiny object to distract from the simple fact that through minimalism and deep inspiration, Jeff’s whole point was to make an album effectively 'Before Ambient' as the state of the Ambient playing field stands today. Regardless, I’ve not heard an album this uncertain, dissonant, restrained, and overtly visual and engaging since my first spin through the full “Cascade” suite some 30+ years ago, making for a welcome entry into the (non)musical canon of EBV without being violent, a welcome entry in the Ambient canon without being purely ambient/dreamy/emotive, and a welcome entry in the Concrète canon without being unlistenable or forcing some focused, deep listening to ‘understand what it all means’ - oh no, dare I say it for certain!? Jeff may have inadvertently just defined Post-Ambient by looking to the past for what's made it great over all these years, then distilling things down via his unique and singular sonic vision, making for a strong narrative presentation. In studying the past, recurring patterns, precedents, and consequences, Jeff has moved on a modern effort that might just stand to define the next generation of minimalism and audio narratives. This is not simply music for an OST, this is the music that inspires and writes the scripts themselves. Highly recommended listening.

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What initially caught your attention about this record?

I think most likely, it was the artist name ‘Fen’, since I live in the Lincolnshire fens, in the UK. So I was intrigued to see if at last, there might be more artists and creatives dwelling amongst these flat, vacant landscapes. The artwork really drew me in too.

Were you familiar with music by this artist or label previously?

No, everyone involved with this one is completely new to me - from the artists, personnel to the label Slow Worm Records. So no stories or personal connection to share here. But, all duly followed on Instagram.

When do you find yourself listening to it most?

This one feels really well suited to the afternoon and I enjoy it outdoors. It doesn’t have a lot of field recordings despite its beautiful, earthy character and theme. So walking around this fenland village, I find the everyday sounds of the birds, the wind, the distant traffic, blend nicely with the compositions. That’s not to say that field recordings are a missing ingredient here. Far from it. It was recorded inside a beautiful room, with amazing equipment. It sounds so warm and therefore, equally, it sounds very nice when listening indoors. Oh, and on vinyl too - with the added crackle! I guess my answer here is, there seem to be many apt ways of listening to this one. It’s just a great record!

What does it remind you of, or what does it make you think about?

A lot of the cultural references that come to mind are from other talented experimental artists, on small independent labels. Many of which those who are new to this kind of raw and intimate Modern Classical meets Ambient style will not know. But to offer up a little of this rabbit hole, I’m put in a similar state that I feel when listening to work by Halvcirkel or Theodore Cale Schaefer. Or perhaps even if early Richard Skelton met Peter Broderick at an empty old English tea room to record strings and electronics for a few hours. I find my mind wandering off to days of old; of farming, a simple rural life, or village fetes. It’s easy to tap into this feeling, living here; apparently the locals tell me the high street in the village where I live hasn’t changed in almost 100 years! Yet, with this album there is a sense of the modern too if you can get your head out of its nostalgic charm. Electronics, effects, synths, they’re all there when you hone in.

Which track would you say is your favourite and why?

I love the whole thing as a collection, and being a short record I can easily listen through 2-3 times. But I think I’d say I enjoy the vocal piece ‘The Song’ the most when it comes in mid way through. It makes me think a little of Grouper, which of course can be no bad thing! It’s a really lovely short piece and being the only vocal track sitting among such beautiful arrangements, it really grips me when suddenly it comes on.

Have you got any thoughts on the concept, artwork or any information you’d like to share from the liner notes?

When I saw the album name ‘Bor’, right away I suspected I knew what it meant. It’s something I hear a lot round here; ‘bor’ is a term often used in the fens to refer to a friend or neighbour. The group say their album title reflects “the intimacy of a creative process rooted in a six-year conversation”. There’s not a detailed press release or set of liner notes going deeper into the background of this record and how their concept came to be. At first I was intrigued and was hoping to find out more about how the album got its name and which particular fenland areas the trio had been influenced by, if at all. But a lot of the details such as this remain hidden. For me it is not something that matters, as the sound aesthetic they evoke, the artwork and the link to the fens, feel like a sound world I can happily both retreat to, and relate to.

Why should fans of Ambient music spend time with this release?

I think the album feels very much in the same vein of what Brian Eno originally defined as Ambient music. Even though some might argue that it’s more Modern Classical. The sound feels intimate, ancient yet timeless, and a space you can drift off to and contemplate many things such as a simple, rural life. I find that the album doesn’t demand much from you as a listener and is easy to soak into for a short time - and its warmth and charm are rather uplifting too.

Links

Fen

Bandcamp

Slow Worm Records

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