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Minor Science - Introduction
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Minor Science - Dread The Evening
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Minor Science - Sun Turn
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Minor Science - The Dinas Walk
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Minor Science - Summer Diary
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Minor Science - Life Texture
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Minor Science - Contingency
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Minor Science - Gather Your Party (Dispersed Mix)
Minor Science—aka UK-born, Berlin-based musician Angus Finlayson—makes his Balmat debut with Absent Friends Vol. III, the third installment in a shape-shifting series across a variety of formats and platforms. And with it, he pushes forward his vision of ambient music as neither static vista or merely mood-setting atmosphere, but rather a dynamic matrix of textures, sensations, and even rhythms.
The first two Absent Friends—a 2014 set for Blowing Up the Workshop, and a 2017 cassette and web player for Whities (now AD93)—were hybrid affairs, part DJ mix and part collage, mostly featuring music made by other people. Then, in 2020-21, Finlayson developed the project into a live show of his own material. Armed with hundreds of bespoke stems created in his studio—idiosyncratic FX chains, feedback loops through cheap rack gear, heavily post-processed field recordings, found voices, etc.—he would improvise on four CDJs, mixer, FX, and live synths, extending techniques he learned as a club DJ into a live context, accompanied by visuals by Stockholm-based artist Paul Witherden.
Absent Friends Vol. III is an album of studio versions of the music developed for the live show. But in Minor Science’s world, even a category as simple as “studio versions” is slightly opaque. “Most of these tracks weren’t ‘composed’ in the studio,” Finlayson explains: “The sounds started out as stems and source material for the live show, and might not have been intended to go together—but then through performance, they settled into shapes that worked. I then recreated those performances in the studio.” That organic process of ideation and realization might help explain the unusual coherence of the album, in which sounds and textures flow seamlessly from one to the next, sometimes seeming to stand still, and sometimes looping back. There are virtually no melodies, few recognizable motifs or riffs, yet the eight-track album nevertheless moves with a distinctive logic and a determined sense of purpose, from the frozen-in-time shimmer of the opening “Introduction” through the early cuts’ studies of space and light; from the seemingly autobiographical “Summer Diary” through the rushing trance (yes, trance) arpeggios of “Contingency” and on to the dulcet denouement of the closing “Gather Your Party (Dispersed Mix).” More
The first two Absent Friends—a 2014 set for Blowing Up the Workshop, and a 2017 cassette and web player for Whities (now AD93)—were hybrid affairs, part DJ mix and part collage, mostly featuring music made by other people. Then, in 2020-21, Finlayson developed the project into a live show of his own material. Armed with hundreds of bespoke stems created in his studio—idiosyncratic FX chains, feedback loops through cheap rack gear, heavily post-processed field recordings, found voices, etc.—he would improvise on four CDJs, mixer, FX, and live synths, extending techniques he learned as a club DJ into a live context, accompanied by visuals by Stockholm-based artist Paul Witherden.
Absent Friends Vol. III is an album of studio versions of the music developed for the live show. But in Minor Science’s world, even a category as simple as “studio versions” is slightly opaque. “Most of these tracks weren’t ‘composed’ in the studio,” Finlayson explains: “The sounds started out as stems and source material for the live show, and might not have been intended to go together—but then through performance, they settled into shapes that worked. I then recreated those performances in the studio.” That organic process of ideation and realization might help explain the unusual coherence of the album, in which sounds and textures flow seamlessly from one to the next, sometimes seeming to stand still, and sometimes looping back. There are virtually no melodies, few recognizable motifs or riffs, yet the eight-track album nevertheless moves with a distinctive logic and a determined sense of purpose, from the frozen-in-time shimmer of the opening “Introduction” through the early cuts’ studies of space and light; from the seemingly autobiographical “Summer Diary” through the rushing trance (yes, trance) arpeggios of “Contingency” and on to the dulcet denouement of the closing “Gather Your Party (Dispersed Mix).” More
More records from Minor Science
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Minor Science - Workahol
2
Minor Science - Cashiene
3 years on from his debut album Second Language, Minor Science returns in a giddy rush of beats, bass and pitched-up samples.
064 is a cheap thrill ride through a world consumed by work. Inspired by several years of hard hustle, "Workahol" and "Casheine" mash up hardcore, bassline, electro and booty bass to offer (over)stimulation for crisis-era dancefloors. "If you want my lovin' you've gotta work harder..." More
064 is a cheap thrill ride through a world consumed by work. Inspired by several years of hard hustle, "Workahol" and "Casheine" mash up hardcore, bassline, electro and booty bass to offer (over)stimulation for crisis-era dancefloors. "If you want my lovin' you've gotta work harder..." More
More records from Balmat
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Luke Wyland - Grounded
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Luke Wyland - Click Clap
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Luke Wyland - Unwinding
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Luke Wyland - Chimes
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Luke Wyland - Voice Valley
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Luke Wyland - Pitch & Bowed
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Luke Wyland - Be Ya
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Luke Wyland - Pollinators
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Luke Wyland - Kuma Cove
“Music is my forever cove,” writes Portland, Oregon’s Luke Wyland of the ideas that give shape to Kuma Cove, his latest album under his own name. Though named after a real place on the Oregon coast, Kuma Cove casts its gaze far beyond the sightseer’s line of vision. Recorded live in the studio and blurring obvious lines between computer-based composition and electro-acoustic instrumentation, it is an album about flow, borders, transitory states, and shelter. Composed of discontinuous ripples and repetitions (“I’m forever searching for a better descriptor than looping, which feels too simple and flattened by overuse,” Wyland says), shaped into richly emotive arcs, and informed by his experience as a person who stutters, it is also an album about identity, self-expression, and the energies that sluice through and across what we perceive as linear time—like floodwaters seeking an exit, like streams running into the sea.
Artist’s Statement:
I made this record while spending significant time in the woods by the Sandy River in Corbett, Oregon,
where I've had my studio for the last five years. It is a diary of spontaneous live recordings edited to highlight the moments of clarity that emerge from long-form improvisations. These compositions express a slowing internal rhythm. An unwinding. A somatic recalibration as I enter middle age. A newly empowered vulnerability.
Here are the internalized cadences of my stutter, flowing freely from my fingers. The musicality of my disfluency is revealed in its frictions, elongations, and foreshortenings. Disruptions in linear time, where the bubbling cadences of my stutter find unexpected pathways, reveal the elasticity of the present moment. This is my idiosyncratic language, shaped and inspired by my disability. Subliminally mirroring internal processes, neural firings, cognitive entanglements...
The title, Kuma Cove, refers to a beloved cove on the coast of Oregon my wife and I return to yearly. There has always been something so magnetic about coves. The way they cradle one from the overwhelming enormity of the ocean beyond, muting a primordial fear. I experience these improvisations as ecosystems I'm able to inhabit for stretches of time, embodying the particular rhythms and sensorial textures within each. Music is my forever cove. Everything you hear is created live in Ableton on a setup I've been honing for 15 years. I celebrate MIDI and computer music as an extension of self and strive to make it as expressive as any analog instrument. I was a visual artist for the first half of my life and quickly adapted those skills to composing and producing on a computer. The transition felt natural within the landscape of DAW's interfaces, especially as a synesthete. Ableton and its community of Max creators continue to surprise me with its expansiveness.
I'm forever searching for a better descriptor than looping, which feels too simple and flattened by overuse. I envision sonic loops as tangled masses of time, three-dimensional knots spinning on tilted axes, or overlapping wreaths refracting out a myriad of colors. My practice is continually refocusing my ear to what is revealed in the repetitions, searching for the fingerprint of each. I find it incredible how technology lets us manipulate time like this. Nothing on this record is quantized or locked to a universal bpm. Experiencing numerous tempos at once feels important. Recordings as mirrors. Freedom from expected (conversational) flow as we hold time for each other.
-Luke Wyland, August 2024
Artist Bio:
Luke Wyland is an interdisciplinary artist, composer, and performer based in Portland, OR (USA). Wyland has been releasing critically acclaimed records for the past 20 years in the groups AU and Methods Body, as LWW, and under his own name, working with such labels as New Amsterdam, Beacon Sound, Balmat, The Leaf Label, and Aagoo Records. As a person who stutters, Wyland’s approach to music is informed by his idiosyncratic relationship with language. Wyland believes deeply in the cathartic power of live performance as a means for collective healing. Through an interdisciplinary art practice that focuses on improvisation, somatic embodiment, bespoke tuning systems, the cadences of disfluent speech, and time manipulation technologies, he’s collaborated with choreographers, high-school choirs, filmmakers, sound designers, and renowned musicians such as John Niekrasz, Holland Andrews, Colin Stetson, and Abraham Gomez-Delgado. He’s also the co-creator of the “It’s A Fucking Miracle” dance class with Tahni Holt.
Wyland has toured nationally and internationally and performed at the Whitney Museum, Ecstatic Music Festival, Issue Project Room, PICA’s Time-Based Arts Festival, End of the Road Festival, and Les Nuits Botanique, among others. More
Artist’s Statement:
I made this record while spending significant time in the woods by the Sandy River in Corbett, Oregon,
where I've had my studio for the last five years. It is a diary of spontaneous live recordings edited to highlight the moments of clarity that emerge from long-form improvisations. These compositions express a slowing internal rhythm. An unwinding. A somatic recalibration as I enter middle age. A newly empowered vulnerability.
Here are the internalized cadences of my stutter, flowing freely from my fingers. The musicality of my disfluency is revealed in its frictions, elongations, and foreshortenings. Disruptions in linear time, where the bubbling cadences of my stutter find unexpected pathways, reveal the elasticity of the present moment. This is my idiosyncratic language, shaped and inspired by my disability. Subliminally mirroring internal processes, neural firings, cognitive entanglements...
The title, Kuma Cove, refers to a beloved cove on the coast of Oregon my wife and I return to yearly. There has always been something so magnetic about coves. The way they cradle one from the overwhelming enormity of the ocean beyond, muting a primordial fear. I experience these improvisations as ecosystems I'm able to inhabit for stretches of time, embodying the particular rhythms and sensorial textures within each. Music is my forever cove. Everything you hear is created live in Ableton on a setup I've been honing for 15 years. I celebrate MIDI and computer music as an extension of self and strive to make it as expressive as any analog instrument. I was a visual artist for the first half of my life and quickly adapted those skills to composing and producing on a computer. The transition felt natural within the landscape of DAW's interfaces, especially as a synesthete. Ableton and its community of Max creators continue to surprise me with its expansiveness.
I'm forever searching for a better descriptor than looping, which feels too simple and flattened by overuse. I envision sonic loops as tangled masses of time, three-dimensional knots spinning on tilted axes, or overlapping wreaths refracting out a myriad of colors. My practice is continually refocusing my ear to what is revealed in the repetitions, searching for the fingerprint of each. I find it incredible how technology lets us manipulate time like this. Nothing on this record is quantized or locked to a universal bpm. Experiencing numerous tempos at once feels important. Recordings as mirrors. Freedom from expected (conversational) flow as we hold time for each other.
-Luke Wyland, August 2024
Artist Bio:
Luke Wyland is an interdisciplinary artist, composer, and performer based in Portland, OR (USA). Wyland has been releasing critically acclaimed records for the past 20 years in the groups AU and Methods Body, as LWW, and under his own name, working with such labels as New Amsterdam, Beacon Sound, Balmat, The Leaf Label, and Aagoo Records. As a person who stutters, Wyland’s approach to music is informed by his idiosyncratic relationship with language. Wyland believes deeply in the cathartic power of live performance as a means for collective healing. Through an interdisciplinary art practice that focuses on improvisation, somatic embodiment, bespoke tuning systems, the cadences of disfluent speech, and time manipulation technologies, he’s collaborated with choreographers, high-school choirs, filmmakers, sound designers, and renowned musicians such as John Niekrasz, Holland Andrews, Colin Stetson, and Abraham Gomez-Delgado. He’s also the co-creator of the “It’s A Fucking Miracle” dance class with Tahni Holt.
Wyland has toured nationally and internationally and performed at the Whitney Museum, Ecstatic Music Festival, Issue Project Room, PICA’s Time-Based Arts Festival, End of the Road Festival, and Les Nuits Botanique, among others. More
1
Luke Sanger - 6am Beach Walk
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Luke Sanger - Flutter Env
3
Luke Sanger - Solid Steps
4
Luke Sanger - Poppers
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Luke Sanger - Beneath The Mausoleum
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Luke Sanger - Loop John B
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Luke Sanger - Morning Person
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Luke Sanger - Natural Light
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Luke Sanger - Open Sauce
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Luke Sanger - Terraform
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Luke Sanger - Living Algorithms
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Luke Sanger - Universal Vibrational Frequencies
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Luke Sanger - Vibraphone Home
Balmat began our journey in 2021 with the release of Luke Sanger’s Languid Gongue. Now, three years later, we turn an important corner as the Norfolk musician rejoins us with Dew Point Harmonics, the first repeat appearance on the label. Sanger’s new album feels like a natural extension of his inaugural record for Balmat: It’s a bewitching collection of esoteric synth sketches that slips unpredictably between consonant repetition, poignant melodies, and gnarled bursts of noise that catch in the ear like burrs in hiking socks.
That natural metaphor is perhaps not accidental. Despite having been composed on Sanger’s diverse array of hardware and self-written software, many of the tracks were first conceived while Sanger was hiking in a particularly wild and isolated section of the Norfolk coast. The field recording that opens the album, on “6am Beach Walk,” was taken on one of his many early-morning walks there, in which he and his dog might go for miles without seeing another soul. The album’s title was inspired by the overnight condensation covering the long marram grass in the dunes, glistening in the early light (and drenching everything coming in contact with it) before evaporating in the morning sun. Indeed, the concept of dew point—the temperature at which water vapor condenses into a liquid—feels like the perfect metaphor for Sanger’s music, in which foggy ambience is distilled into glistening quicksilver orbs, transient spheres of perfection eventually absorbed back into the atmosphere.
A shapeshifting collection of richly detailed and deeply expressive electronic miniatures, Dew Point Harmonics is both a testament to the mysteries of transformation and an invitation to get lost in the wilderness of your own imagination. More
That natural metaphor is perhaps not accidental. Despite having been composed on Sanger’s diverse array of hardware and self-written software, many of the tracks were first conceived while Sanger was hiking in a particularly wild and isolated section of the Norfolk coast. The field recording that opens the album, on “6am Beach Walk,” was taken on one of his many early-morning walks there, in which he and his dog might go for miles without seeing another soul. The album’s title was inspired by the overnight condensation covering the long marram grass in the dunes, glistening in the early light (and drenching everything coming in contact with it) before evaporating in the morning sun. Indeed, the concept of dew point—the temperature at which water vapor condenses into a liquid—feels like the perfect metaphor for Sanger’s music, in which foggy ambience is distilled into glistening quicksilver orbs, transient spheres of perfection eventually absorbed back into the atmosphere.
A shapeshifting collection of richly detailed and deeply expressive electronic miniatures, Dew Point Harmonics is both a testament to the mysteries of transformation and an invitation to get lost in the wilderness of your own imagination. More
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Bartosz Kruczynski - Dream I
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Bartosz Kruczynski - Dream II
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Bartosz Kruczynski - Dream III
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Bartosz Kruczynski - Dream IV
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Bartosz Kruczynski - V
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Bartosz Kruczynski - VI
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Bartosz Kruczynski - Dream VII
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Bartosz Kruczynski - Whisper I
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Bartosz Kruczynski - Whisper II
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Bartosz Kruczynski - Whisper III
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Bartosz Kruczynski - Whisper IV
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Bartosz Kruczynski - Whisper V
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Bartosz Kruczynski - Whisper VI
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Bartosz Kruczynski - Whisper VII
We’ve always been careful not to call Balmat an ambient label, because we like having the freedom to move, to drift, to morph. But with our 11th release, we turn our ears—proudly, blissfully—to a strain of ambient at its most timeless. The appropriately titled Dreams & Whispers comes from Warsaw’s Bartosz Kruczynski, who has recorded under a number of guises, Earth Trax, as well as his own name. Over the years, he’s touched upon deep house, breakbeats, acid, techno, electro, IDM, and more; often, the throughline running through a given album is simply the refusal to remain in any one place for long—well, that, and his unusually nuanced ear for harmony and texture.
Those qualities come to the fore on Dreams & Whispers, which might be the most focused encapsulation of Kruczynski’s atmospheric sensibilities to date.. Across 14 stripped-down tracks for shimmer and pulse, Kruczynski evokes overlapping styles in ambient—warm vibraphones, taut arps, massing strings, lonesome delay chains —but always with his own twist. Fitting the album’s title, the album is loosely divided into two distinct moods: The A-side, “Dreams,” is charged with subtle movement, rhythms spreading out like rings around skipped stones, while the B-side, “Whispers,” plunges into a zone of shadows and hush. The two complementary moods flow into one another like the faces of a Moebius strip, yielding an album that’s intuitively shaped and rich in emotion. More
Those qualities come to the fore on Dreams & Whispers, which might be the most focused encapsulation of Kruczynski’s atmospheric sensibilities to date.. Across 14 stripped-down tracks for shimmer and pulse, Kruczynski evokes overlapping styles in ambient—warm vibraphones, taut arps, massing strings, lonesome delay chains —but always with his own twist. Fitting the album’s title, the album is loosely divided into two distinct moods: The A-side, “Dreams,” is charged with subtle movement, rhythms spreading out like rings around skipped stones, while the B-side, “Whispers,” plunges into a zone of shadows and hush. The two complementary moods flow into one another like the faces of a Moebius strip, yielding an album that’s intuitively shaped and rich in emotion. More
1
Panoram - The Shapes We Are
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Panoram - Limbo
3
Panoram - Pierre
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Panoram - Cameos
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Panoram - Obsolete Child
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Panoram - Born Today
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Panoram - It's Me Being You
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Panoram - The Parable
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Panoram - Dishappening
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Panoram - Mudding
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Panoram - Brutal Meditation
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Panoram - Smiles In A Row
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Panoram - Peachflame
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Panoram - Middle Class Love (Blood Tests)
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Panoram - Veroin
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Panoram - A Brick In Your Fantasy
Panoram makes soundtracks for daydreams gone sideways. Picture the scene: an afternoon nap with the television on, quietly, in the corner; snatches of conversation drift in through the open window. Wandering, half-formed thoughts take unexpected detours; before you know it, there’s a movie playing out against closed lids, the colors bright, the characters unfamiliar. Accidental rhythms, incidental melodies, imitations of life, messages in code.
Across 17 fragmentary, sketch-like tracks, Panoram carves a labyrinthine path in which nothing is what it seems: a fantasy world of breathy vox pads, faux guitar, detuned synths, bursts of flute and orchestral percussion, and even the occasional cheeky cartoon sample. It’s chillout music with a chilly edge, ambient with a darkly ironic undertone. (The briefest glance at your news outlet of choice should be enough to confirm that the title—Great Times—ought to be taken with a healthy dose of skepticism.)
Panoram has been making music under his principal alias for more than a decade now, releasing albums on labels like Firecracker, Running Back, and his own Wandering Eye. (He has also performed and recorded with Amen Dunes, and has co-production credits on Amen Dunes’ forthcoming Sub Pop album Death Jokes.) Panoram’s output has ranged widely, taking in abstract pop, classical composition, twisted takes on library music, and cyborg funk. One record of “bio-acoustic transmissions” came with a cannabis leaf pressed in clear wax; his 2021 album Pianosequenza Vol. 1 gathers his experiments on the Yamaha Disklavier. But Great Times offers the truest picture yet of a project that has never been easy to pin down.
Loath to overshare details about his personal life, Panoram instead lets the music do the talking, using his cryptic tracks to express the slipperiest sorts of ideas—the thoughts that take root where anxiety, distraction, and the most fleeting traces of grace commingle. Panoram’s approach flies in the face of contemporary ambient orthodoxy, with its emphasis on immersion and uplift. Great Times expresses something thornier, more difficult to translate, yet also more tantalizing to contend with. Its 17 tracks offer a chance to get lost—and an invitation to remain in the maze as long as you like. More
Across 17 fragmentary, sketch-like tracks, Panoram carves a labyrinthine path in which nothing is what it seems: a fantasy world of breathy vox pads, faux guitar, detuned synths, bursts of flute and orchestral percussion, and even the occasional cheeky cartoon sample. It’s chillout music with a chilly edge, ambient with a darkly ironic undertone. (The briefest glance at your news outlet of choice should be enough to confirm that the title—Great Times—ought to be taken with a healthy dose of skepticism.)
Panoram has been making music under his principal alias for more than a decade now, releasing albums on labels like Firecracker, Running Back, and his own Wandering Eye. (He has also performed and recorded with Amen Dunes, and has co-production credits on Amen Dunes’ forthcoming Sub Pop album Death Jokes.) Panoram’s output has ranged widely, taking in abstract pop, classical composition, twisted takes on library music, and cyborg funk. One record of “bio-acoustic transmissions” came with a cannabis leaf pressed in clear wax; his 2021 album Pianosequenza Vol. 1 gathers his experiments on the Yamaha Disklavier. But Great Times offers the truest picture yet of a project that has never been easy to pin down.
Loath to overshare details about his personal life, Panoram instead lets the music do the talking, using his cryptic tracks to express the slipperiest sorts of ideas—the thoughts that take root where anxiety, distraction, and the most fleeting traces of grace commingle. Panoram’s approach flies in the face of contemporary ambient orthodoxy, with its emphasis on immersion and uplift. Great Times expresses something thornier, more difficult to translate, yet also more tantalizing to contend with. Its 17 tracks offer a chance to get lost—and an invitation to remain in the maze as long as you like. More
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Coral Morphologic & Nick León - Deep Call
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Coral Morphologic & Nick León - Hearts Aflutter
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Coral Morphologic & Nick León - Discovery
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Coral Morphologic & Nick León - Precipice
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Coral Morphologic & Nick León - Reach Out
Coral Morphologic and Nick León’s Projections of a Coral City marks a series of collisions between distant
worlds: the organic and the artificial, the Eocene and the Anthropocene, sea and cement—and even, perhaps, ambient music and activism.
Coral Morphologic are the Miami duo of marine biologist Colin Foord and musician J.D. McKay; since 2007, they have used a variety of multimedia projects to generate environmental awareness of marine biodiversity—most notably Coral City Camera, an underwater webcam streaming live from an urban reef ecosystem in PortMiami.
Their citymate Nick León is a linchpin of South Florida’s contemporary leftfield electronic scene, with releases for Tra Tra Trax, Future Times, and NAAFI, and credits on records by Rosalía, GAIKA, and Iceboy Violet, among others.
This collaborative project dates back to 2022, when Coral Morphologic mounted a monumental projection-
mapping installation on Biscayne Boulevard. For five nights in late November and early December, macroscopic films of corals played out across the exterior of Knight Concert Hall. The installation was, on the one hand, a glimpse into a possible future, imagining how the city’s skyline might appear if unchecked global warming and rising seas led coral reefs to colonize the built environment. But it also represented a look back into the deep past, a reminder that Miami is literally built from marine limestone mined from the Everglades. Its concrete foundations began life, eons ago, as a marine ecosystem—the same ecosystem that may one day reclaim them. As above, so below.
As an album, Projections of a Coral City is a suite of interconnected movements spread across two sides of vinyl. The tones are watery, the mood elegiac, the colors a washed-out pastel. Forms that appear static on the surface gradually open up to reveal hidden depths teeming with microscopic movement. You might detect resonances with other aquatically minded works—Jürgen Müller’s Science of the Sea, Harold Budd’s liquid piano compositions, even the slow-moving melancholy of Dr. Roger Payne’s Songs of the Humpback Whale. But ultimately Projections of a Coral City creates the impression of a world unto itself—a hauntingly beautiful space at the meeting point between sorrow and hope.
——-
Balmat is a label with a cloudy outline. Jointly shepherded by Albert Salinas and Philip Sherburne, two friends living in Cardedeu, Catalonia, and on the Balearic island of Menorca, Balmat grew out of Lapsus Radio, a weekly show born almost ten years ago. Balmat’s mission is simple: to foster new ideas, expand upon personal obsessions, and put enveloping sounds out into the world.
“Balmat” means “empty” or “void” in Catalan. But quite apart from any negative connotations, we prefer to think of it in terms of possibility: a space waiting to be filled. More
worlds: the organic and the artificial, the Eocene and the Anthropocene, sea and cement—and even, perhaps, ambient music and activism.
Coral Morphologic are the Miami duo of marine biologist Colin Foord and musician J.D. McKay; since 2007, they have used a variety of multimedia projects to generate environmental awareness of marine biodiversity—most notably Coral City Camera, an underwater webcam streaming live from an urban reef ecosystem in PortMiami.
Their citymate Nick León is a linchpin of South Florida’s contemporary leftfield electronic scene, with releases for Tra Tra Trax, Future Times, and NAAFI, and credits on records by Rosalía, GAIKA, and Iceboy Violet, among others.
This collaborative project dates back to 2022, when Coral Morphologic mounted a monumental projection-
mapping installation on Biscayne Boulevard. For five nights in late November and early December, macroscopic films of corals played out across the exterior of Knight Concert Hall. The installation was, on the one hand, a glimpse into a possible future, imagining how the city’s skyline might appear if unchecked global warming and rising seas led coral reefs to colonize the built environment. But it also represented a look back into the deep past, a reminder that Miami is literally built from marine limestone mined from the Everglades. Its concrete foundations began life, eons ago, as a marine ecosystem—the same ecosystem that may one day reclaim them. As above, so below.
As an album, Projections of a Coral City is a suite of interconnected movements spread across two sides of vinyl. The tones are watery, the mood elegiac, the colors a washed-out pastel. Forms that appear static on the surface gradually open up to reveal hidden depths teeming with microscopic movement. You might detect resonances with other aquatically minded works—Jürgen Müller’s Science of the Sea, Harold Budd’s liquid piano compositions, even the slow-moving melancholy of Dr. Roger Payne’s Songs of the Humpback Whale. But ultimately Projections of a Coral City creates the impression of a world unto itself—a hauntingly beautiful space at the meeting point between sorrow and hope.
——-
Balmat is a label with a cloudy outline. Jointly shepherded by Albert Salinas and Philip Sherburne, two friends living in Cardedeu, Catalonia, and on the Balearic island of Menorca, Balmat grew out of Lapsus Radio, a weekly show born almost ten years ago. Balmat’s mission is simple: to foster new ideas, expand upon personal obsessions, and put enveloping sounds out into the world.
“Balmat” means “empty” or “void” in Catalan. But quite apart from any negative connotations, we prefer to think of it in terms of possibility: a space waiting to be filled. More
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µ-Ziq - 4am
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µ-Ziq - Éire
3
µ-Ziq - Allegro
4
µ-Ziq - Houzz 13
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µ-Ziq - Belt & Carpet
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µ-Ziq - ;ar,ote
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µ-Ziq - Asda
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µ-Ziq - 1977 (Ft. Meemo Comma)
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µ-Ziq - Xolbe 3
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µ-Ziq - Burnt Orange
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µ-Ziq - Lime Aero
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µ-Ziq - Reference Gravy
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µ-Ziq - Mesolithic Jungle
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µ-Ziq - Pillowy
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µ-Ziq - Froglets
Yellow Vinyl Repress!
When we established Balmat in 2021, neither of us could have imagined that within two years, we’d be putting out an album by one of our musical heroes: Mike Paradinas, aka µ-Ziq. The British producer has been an inspiration to label co-founders Albert Salinas and Philip Sherburne since the 1990s. In fact, his album-length remix project The Auteurs Vs µ-Ziq was one of the very first pieces of electronic music that Philip bought, way back in 1994. To have the opportunity to release his music now feels like a real full-circle moment.
Paradinas, of course, needs no introduction. Under a slew of aliases, chief among them µ-Ziq, the British artist revolutionized leftfield electronic music in the 1990s—coincidentally, this year marks the 30th anniversary of his debut album, Tango N’ Vectif, for his friend and sometime collaborator Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label—and his label Planet Mu has built up a formidable catalog of visionary, forwardlooking records, mapping virtually every corner of the electronic spectrum. With 1977, he turns the clock backward in a sense, and not just with the album’s title: Rooted in classic ambient and electronic sounds, these 15 tracks evoke the anything-goes spirit of the early ’90s, before the tools and tropes had calcified into cut-and-dried styles.
There’s no shortage of familiar sounds on 1977. There are echoes of raves and chillout rooms and transmissions from the fringes of techno; there are detuned synths and glistening reverb tails and, above all, gauzy vox pads, the eerie glue that holds it all together. The title, he says, is meant to invoke a general sense of nostalgia, bookmarking a year in his boyhood when he became more selfaware. More than anything, 1977 sounds like µ-Ziq distilled: Stripped of his signature breakbeats and customary chaos, Paradinas’ first-ever strictly (well, mostly) ambient album presents the essence of his music in a whole new light.
Along the way Paradinas touches on dark-ambient drones (“Marmite”), horror-film themes (“Belt & Carpet”), jungle breaks (“Mesolithic Jungle”), and even house music (“Houzz 13”), which marks the first bona fide dance-floor moment on Balmat to date). Yet the album never—to our ears, anyway— feels expressly retro. Rather, Paradinas plucks timeless sounds out of the ether and gives them a gentle tap, spinning them into unexpected new orbits. At times, 1977 feels like an experience of extended déjà vu: When we first listened to it, we had the sense that we already knew this music. It was as though we had heard it years ago, perhaps on a battered cassette tape lent to us by a friend, and been searching for it ever since. We hope you feel the same. More
When we established Balmat in 2021, neither of us could have imagined that within two years, we’d be putting out an album by one of our musical heroes: Mike Paradinas, aka µ-Ziq. The British producer has been an inspiration to label co-founders Albert Salinas and Philip Sherburne since the 1990s. In fact, his album-length remix project The Auteurs Vs µ-Ziq was one of the very first pieces of electronic music that Philip bought, way back in 1994. To have the opportunity to release his music now feels like a real full-circle moment.
Paradinas, of course, needs no introduction. Under a slew of aliases, chief among them µ-Ziq, the British artist revolutionized leftfield electronic music in the 1990s—coincidentally, this year marks the 30th anniversary of his debut album, Tango N’ Vectif, for his friend and sometime collaborator Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label—and his label Planet Mu has built up a formidable catalog of visionary, forwardlooking records, mapping virtually every corner of the electronic spectrum. With 1977, he turns the clock backward in a sense, and not just with the album’s title: Rooted in classic ambient and electronic sounds, these 15 tracks evoke the anything-goes spirit of the early ’90s, before the tools and tropes had calcified into cut-and-dried styles.
There’s no shortage of familiar sounds on 1977. There are echoes of raves and chillout rooms and transmissions from the fringes of techno; there are detuned synths and glistening reverb tails and, above all, gauzy vox pads, the eerie glue that holds it all together. The title, he says, is meant to invoke a general sense of nostalgia, bookmarking a year in his boyhood when he became more selfaware. More than anything, 1977 sounds like µ-Ziq distilled: Stripped of his signature breakbeats and customary chaos, Paradinas’ first-ever strictly (well, mostly) ambient album presents the essence of his music in a whole new light.
Along the way Paradinas touches on dark-ambient drones (“Marmite”), horror-film themes (“Belt & Carpet”), jungle breaks (“Mesolithic Jungle”), and even house music (“Houzz 13”), which marks the first bona fide dance-floor moment on Balmat to date). Yet the album never—to our ears, anyway— feels expressly retro. Rather, Paradinas plucks timeless sounds out of the ether and gives them a gentle tap, spinning them into unexpected new orbits. At times, 1977 feels like an experience of extended déjà vu: When we first listened to it, we had the sense that we already knew this music. It was as though we had heard it years ago, perhaps on a battered cassette tape lent to us by a friend, and been searching for it ever since. We hope you feel the same. More
1
Anagrams - Birds On Clifton
2
Anagrams - Blue Voices
3
Anagrams - Hymn No.2
4
Anagrams - Catch It
5
Anagrams - Ex Uno Plures
6
Anagrams - Hidden Hearts
7
Anagrams - Another Cloud
8
Anagrams - Song In Six
9
Anagrams - Interesting Times
10
Anagrams - Let Us Sing Sad Songs Together
11
Anagrams - What Is Left Is Music
Balmat co-founders Philip Sherburne and Albert Salinas have been fans of Shy Layers’ lilting, Balearic pop for years, so when Shy Layers’ JD Walsh asked us to listen to a set of demos he was working up with fellow Atlanta multi-instrumentalist Jeff Crompton, we jumped at the chance. And once we heard their work in progress, the decision was almost immediate: We have to release this.
Together, Walsh and Crompton are Anagrams, and their debut album together, Blue Voices, might initially seem like a departure from Balmat’s habitually electronic terrain. It’s not ambient music, but it’s also not not ambient music, at least to listeners in the right frame of mind. The two musicians, who met when Walsh moved from Brooklyn to Atlanta in 2016 and began collaborating a few years later, see the music in similarly ambiguous terms. “I like it because it’s not jazz,” jokes Crompton, a veteran and credentialed jazz player. “And JD likes it because it’s jazz.”
Crompton is a musician (and former high-school band teacher) with deep roots in Georgia’s improvised and experimental music scenes; his credits include shows with Eugene Chadbourne, a guest appearance with Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and a collaboration with Duet for Theremin and Lap Steel’s 12-hour drone performance at Knoxville’s Big Ears. On Blue Voices he plays alto and tenor saxophone, clarinet, electric piano, and organ. Walsh has been releasing music as Shy Layers since 2015, when he started self-releasing on Bandcamp; the following year, Germany’s Growing Bin packaged his first two EPs as a self-titled album, and in 2018, Tim Sweeney’s Beats in Space label put out Shy Layers’ sophomore album, Midnight Marker. Where those records channeled Walsh’s playful harmonic instincts into wistful songwriting with tropical overtones, on Blue Voices he lets his experimental tendencies take the lead. Playing acoustic and electric guitars, electric lap steel, bass, Moog Matriarch, modular synth, and programmed drums, he concentrates his energies on richly textural layers and abstract assemblages of tone color.
Across the album’s 11 tracks, there are faint echoes of familiar touchstones: the atmospheric twang of Daniel Lanois’ pedal steel on Apollo: Atmospheres and Soundtracks; the mercurial modal runs of Ethio- jazz; the late-summer calm of Fuubutsushi; the versatility of players and composers like Patrick Shiroishi and Sam Gendel, who are asking similar questions about where jazz ends and some other, nameless territory begins. Mostly, though, what Blue Voices captures is the quixotic sound of two restless musical imaginations making it up as they go along, two voices discovering a shared language in a hitherto unexplored shade of blue. More
Together, Walsh and Crompton are Anagrams, and their debut album together, Blue Voices, might initially seem like a departure from Balmat’s habitually electronic terrain. It’s not ambient music, but it’s also not not ambient music, at least to listeners in the right frame of mind. The two musicians, who met when Walsh moved from Brooklyn to Atlanta in 2016 and began collaborating a few years later, see the music in similarly ambiguous terms. “I like it because it’s not jazz,” jokes Crompton, a veteran and credentialed jazz player. “And JD likes it because it’s jazz.”
Crompton is a musician (and former high-school band teacher) with deep roots in Georgia’s improvised and experimental music scenes; his credits include shows with Eugene Chadbourne, a guest appearance with Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and a collaboration with Duet for Theremin and Lap Steel’s 12-hour drone performance at Knoxville’s Big Ears. On Blue Voices he plays alto and tenor saxophone, clarinet, electric piano, and organ. Walsh has been releasing music as Shy Layers since 2015, when he started self-releasing on Bandcamp; the following year, Germany’s Growing Bin packaged his first two EPs as a self-titled album, and in 2018, Tim Sweeney’s Beats in Space label put out Shy Layers’ sophomore album, Midnight Marker. Where those records channeled Walsh’s playful harmonic instincts into wistful songwriting with tropical overtones, on Blue Voices he lets his experimental tendencies take the lead. Playing acoustic and electric guitars, electric lap steel, bass, Moog Matriarch, modular synth, and programmed drums, he concentrates his energies on richly textural layers and abstract assemblages of tone color.
Across the album’s 11 tracks, there are faint echoes of familiar touchstones: the atmospheric twang of Daniel Lanois’ pedal steel on Apollo: Atmospheres and Soundtracks; the mercurial modal runs of Ethio- jazz; the late-summer calm of Fuubutsushi; the versatility of players and composers like Patrick Shiroishi and Sam Gendel, who are asking similar questions about where jazz ends and some other, nameless territory begins. Mostly, though, what Blue Voices captures is the quixotic sound of two restless musical imaginations making it up as they go along, two voices discovering a shared language in a hitherto unexplored shade of blue. More
1
Luke Sanger - Cranes And Ladders
2
Luke Sanger - Efflorescence
3
Luke Sanger - Phrygian Pan
4
Luke Sanger - Cocoa and Plums
5
Luke Sanger - Mycelium Networks
6
Luke Sanger - Yoake
7
Luke Sanger - All Over The Shop
8
Luke Sanger - Archaic Landscapes
9
Luke Sanger - Basic Lurgy
10
Luke Sanger - Searching For The Elusive Fungi
11
Luke Sanger - Fruity Textures
12
Luke Sanger - Your Session Has Ended
13
Luke Sanger - Not Quite Right
14
Luke Sanger - Only Casino For Miles
Repress!
Balmat is a new label with a cloudy outline.
Jointly shepherded by Philip Sherburne and Albert Salinas, two friends living in Cardedeu, Catalonia, and on the Balearic island of Menorca, Balmat grew out of Lapsus Radio, a weekly show on Spain’s Radio 3. Balmat’s mission is simple: to foster new ideas, expand upon personal obsessions, and put enveloping sounds out into the world.
“Balmat” means “empty” or “void” in Catalan. But quite apart from any negative connotations, we prefer to think of it in terms of possibility: a space waiting to be filled.
Balmat’s first release comes from Luke Sanger, a Norwich, UK-based artist whose two decades of electronic music making have encompassed a range of tools and techniques, from MaxMSP to modular synthesis. Along the way he has built an extensive catalog encompassing ambient atmospheres, abstract soundscaping, and more. With Languid Gongue, he puts multiple approaches into play. Experiments in microtonal composition balance out pieces in standard tunings, while esoteric electronic machines merge with familiar acoustic treatments and microphone techniques.
The result is a constellation of his signature sounds: freeform new-age fantasia; spring-loaded toytronic arpeggios; quartz-driven braindance clockworks. Drifting between consonant, almost lyrical compositions and shape-shifting textural sketches, the album drifts with the nonchalance of a sky-high cirrus cloud, and it glows as if illuminated from within. When we heard the material, we knew that it was the perfect choice to launch the label. To us, it sounds like a roadmap for points unknown. More
Balmat is a new label with a cloudy outline.
Jointly shepherded by Philip Sherburne and Albert Salinas, two friends living in Cardedeu, Catalonia, and on the Balearic island of Menorca, Balmat grew out of Lapsus Radio, a weekly show on Spain’s Radio 3. Balmat’s mission is simple: to foster new ideas, expand upon personal obsessions, and put enveloping sounds out into the world.
“Balmat” means “empty” or “void” in Catalan. But quite apart from any negative connotations, we prefer to think of it in terms of possibility: a space waiting to be filled.
Balmat’s first release comes from Luke Sanger, a Norwich, UK-based artist whose two decades of electronic music making have encompassed a range of tools and techniques, from MaxMSP to modular synthesis. Along the way he has built an extensive catalog encompassing ambient atmospheres, abstract soundscaping, and more. With Languid Gongue, he puts multiple approaches into play. Experiments in microtonal composition balance out pieces in standard tunings, while esoteric electronic machines merge with familiar acoustic treatments and microphone techniques.
The result is a constellation of his signature sounds: freeform new-age fantasia; spring-loaded toytronic arpeggios; quartz-driven braindance clockworks. Drifting between consonant, almost lyrical compositions and shape-shifting textural sketches, the album drifts with the nonchalance of a sky-high cirrus cloud, and it glows as if illuminated from within. When we heard the material, we knew that it was the perfect choice to launch the label. To us, it sounds like a roadmap for points unknown. More
1
Ylia - Ame Agari
2
Ylia - Todos Los Cuerpos
3
Ylia - Nuances Of Care
4
Ylia - Flowers In June
5
Ylia - Tus Manos Cobijo
6
Ylia - Luz De Camino
7
Ylia - Drifting Into The Good Night
8
Ylia - El Único Adiós Posible
Ylia—aka Susana Hernández—had a remarkably productive 2020. In addition to releasing her debut album, Dulce Rendición, on Barcelona’s Paralaxe Editions, she penned compilation tracks for Lapsus Records, Hivern Discs, and Super Utu/Stars on Earth.
But professional success can be deceiving: The following year was, personally speaking, terrible. Her grandfather died. Her father died. Her cat died. And she ended a relationship. “That’s a lot of things all at once, no?” she says.
Her second album, Ame Agaru, is not necessarily a record of that year, but it is, she says, a response to those life events—a record of grief.
The new album is clearly a continuation of the ambient investigations of Ylia’s debut, but it differs in key ways. Where Dulce Rendición was exploratory and faintly cosmic, Ame Agaru—a Japanese phrase meaning, roughly, “the rain lifts”— captures a melancholy sense of stillness. And where her debut was largely electronic, on the new album, Ylia has folded in a number of acoustic elements, even when they are not recognizable as such. Her partner, Alejandro Lévar, lends fingerpicked acoustic guitar to the glowing dronescapes of “Todos los Cuerpos”; multi-instrumentalist and bandleader Tete Leal adds flutes, clarinet, and soprano saxophone to “Ame Agari”—or “after the rain”—which opens the album with a moment of contemplative calm, the kind that follows an extended deluge.
One track, the dub techno-influenced “Flowers in June,” grew out of Ylia’s live sets, but the rest are the fruit of improvisational sessions at home in Málaga, five minutes from the beach—jamming and then refining, searching for the ideal expression of a feeling as it was first captured. Searching for the spontaneity behind the stillness. In places, Ylia even incorporates piano, an instrument she has played since she was 10, yet has never included on one of her recordings before. For the most part on Ame Agaru, she seeks ways to fuse piano with synthesizers and electronic processes. But on the closing track, “El Único Adiós Posible,” she leaves us alone with the instrument in all its stark, unadorned beauty. It is a profoundly moving conclusion to an album defined by its economy of means and purity of expression: a cycle More
But professional success can be deceiving: The following year was, personally speaking, terrible. Her grandfather died. Her father died. Her cat died. And she ended a relationship. “That’s a lot of things all at once, no?” she says.
Her second album, Ame Agaru, is not necessarily a record of that year, but it is, she says, a response to those life events—a record of grief.
The new album is clearly a continuation of the ambient investigations of Ylia’s debut, but it differs in key ways. Where Dulce Rendición was exploratory and faintly cosmic, Ame Agaru—a Japanese phrase meaning, roughly, “the rain lifts”— captures a melancholy sense of stillness. And where her debut was largely electronic, on the new album, Ylia has folded in a number of acoustic elements, even when they are not recognizable as such. Her partner, Alejandro Lévar, lends fingerpicked acoustic guitar to the glowing dronescapes of “Todos los Cuerpos”; multi-instrumentalist and bandleader Tete Leal adds flutes, clarinet, and soprano saxophone to “Ame Agari”—or “after the rain”—which opens the album with a moment of contemplative calm, the kind that follows an extended deluge.
One track, the dub techno-influenced “Flowers in June,” grew out of Ylia’s live sets, but the rest are the fruit of improvisational sessions at home in Málaga, five minutes from the beach—jamming and then refining, searching for the ideal expression of a feeling as it was first captured. Searching for the spontaneity behind the stillness. In places, Ylia even incorporates piano, an instrument she has played since she was 10, yet has never included on one of her recordings before. For the most part on Ame Agaru, she seeks ways to fuse piano with synthesizers and electronic processes. But on the closing track, “El Único Adiós Posible,” she leaves us alone with the instrument in all its stark, unadorned beauty. It is a profoundly moving conclusion to an album defined by its economy of means and purity of expression: a cycle More
1
µ-Ziq - 4am
2
µ-Ziq - Éire
3
µ-Ziq - Allegro
4
µ-Ziq - Houzz 13
5
µ-Ziq - Belt & Carpet
6
µ-Ziq - Marmite
7
µ-Ziq - Asda
8
µ-Ziq - 1977 (Ft. Meemo Comma)
9
µ-Ziq - Xolbe 3
10
µ-Ziq - Burnt Orange
11
µ-Ziq - Lime Aero
12
µ-Ziq - Reference Gravy
13
µ-Ziq - Mesolithic Jungle
14
µ-Ziq - Pillowy
15
µ-Ziq - Froglets
When we established Balmat in 2021, neither of us could have imagined that within two years, we’d be putting out an album by one of our musical heroes: Mike Paradinas, aka µ-Ziq. The British producer has been an inspiration to label co-founders Albert Salinas and Philip Sherburne since the 1990s. In fact, his album-length remix project The Auteurs Vs µ-Ziq was one of the very first pieces of electronic music that Philip bought, way back in 1994. To have the opportunity to release his music now feels like a real full-circle moment.
Paradinas, of course, needs no introduction. Under a slew of aliases, chief among them µ-Ziq, the British artist revolutionized leftfield electronic music in the 1990s—coincidentally, this year marks the 30th anniversary of his debut album, Tango N’ Vectif, for his friend and sometime collaborator Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label—and his label Planet Mu has built up a formidable catalog of visionary, forwardlooking records, mapping virtually every corner of the electronic spectrum. With 1977, he turns the clock backward in a sense, and not just with the album’s title: Rooted in classic ambient and electronic sounds, these 15 tracks evoke the anything-goes spirit of the early ’90s, before the tools and tropes had calcified into cut-and-dried styles.
There’s no shortage of familiar sounds on 1977. There are echoes of raves and chillout rooms and transmissions from the fringes of techno; there are detuned synths and glistening reverb tails and, above all, gauzy vox pads, the eerie glue that holds it all together. The title, he says, is meant to invoke a general sense of nostalgia, bookmarking a year in his boyhood when he became more selfaware. More than anything, 1977 sounds like µ-Ziq distilled: Stripped of his signature breakbeats and customary chaos, Paradinas’ first-ever strictly (well, mostly) ambient album presents the essence of his music in a whole new light.
Along the way Paradinas touches on dark-ambient drones (“Marmite”), horror-film themes (“Belt & Carpet”), jungle breaks (“Mesolithic Jungle”), and even house music (“Houzz 13”), which marks the first bona fide dance-floor moment on Balmat to date). Yet the album never—to our ears, anyway— feels expressly retro. Rather, Paradinas plucks timeless sounds out of the ether and gives them a gentle tap, spinning them into unexpected new orbits. At times, 1977 feels like an experience of extended déjà vu: When we first listened to it, we had the sense that we already knew this music. It was as though we had heard it years ago, perhaps on a battered cassette tape lent to us by a friend, and been searching for it ever since. We hope you feel the same. More
Paradinas, of course, needs no introduction. Under a slew of aliases, chief among them µ-Ziq, the British artist revolutionized leftfield electronic music in the 1990s—coincidentally, this year marks the 30th anniversary of his debut album, Tango N’ Vectif, for his friend and sometime collaborator Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label—and his label Planet Mu has built up a formidable catalog of visionary, forwardlooking records, mapping virtually every corner of the electronic spectrum. With 1977, he turns the clock backward in a sense, and not just with the album’s title: Rooted in classic ambient and electronic sounds, these 15 tracks evoke the anything-goes spirit of the early ’90s, before the tools and tropes had calcified into cut-and-dried styles.
There’s no shortage of familiar sounds on 1977. There are echoes of raves and chillout rooms and transmissions from the fringes of techno; there are detuned synths and glistening reverb tails and, above all, gauzy vox pads, the eerie glue that holds it all together. The title, he says, is meant to invoke a general sense of nostalgia, bookmarking a year in his boyhood when he became more selfaware. More than anything, 1977 sounds like µ-Ziq distilled: Stripped of his signature breakbeats and customary chaos, Paradinas’ first-ever strictly (well, mostly) ambient album presents the essence of his music in a whole new light.
Along the way Paradinas touches on dark-ambient drones (“Marmite”), horror-film themes (“Belt & Carpet”), jungle breaks (“Mesolithic Jungle”), and even house music (“Houzz 13”), which marks the first bona fide dance-floor moment on Balmat to date). Yet the album never—to our ears, anyway— feels expressly retro. Rather, Paradinas plucks timeless sounds out of the ether and gives them a gentle tap, spinning them into unexpected new orbits. At times, 1977 feels like an experience of extended déjà vu: When we first listened to it, we had the sense that we already knew this music. It was as though we had heard it years ago, perhaps on a battered cassette tape lent to us by a friend, and been searching for it ever since. We hope you feel the same. More
CD!
When we established Balmat in 2021, neither of us could have imagined that within two years, we’d be putting out an album by one of our musical heroes: Mike Paradinas, aka µ-Ziq. The British producer has been an inspiration to label co-founders Albert Salinas and Philip Sherburne since the 1990s. In fact, his album-length remix project The Auteurs Vs µ-Ziq was one of the very first pieces of electronic music that Philip bought, way back in 1994. To have the opportunity to release his music now feels like a real full-circle moment.
Paradinas, of course, needs no introduction. Under a slew of aliases, chief among them µ-Ziq, the British artist revolutionized leftfield electronic music in the 1990s—coincidentally, this year marks the 30th anniversary of his debut album, Tango N’ Vectif, for his friend and sometime collaborator Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label—and his label Planet Mu has built up a formidable catalog of visionary, forwardlooking records, mapping virtually every corner of the electronic spectrum. With 1977, he turns the clock backward in a sense, and not just with the album’s title: Rooted in classic ambient and electronic sounds, these 15 tracks evoke the anything-goes spirit of the early ’90s, before the tools and tropes had calcified into cut-and-dried styles.
There’s no shortage of familiar sounds on 1977. There are echoes of raves and chillout rooms and transmissions from the fringes of techno; there are detuned synths and glistening reverb tails and, above all, gauzy vox pads, the eerie glue that holds it all together. The title, he says, is meant to invoke a general sense of nostalgia, bookmarking a year in his boyhood when he became more selfaware. More than anything, 1977 sounds like µ-Ziq distilled: Stripped of his signature breakbeats and customary chaos, Paradinas’ first-ever strictly (well, mostly) ambient album presents the essence of his music in a whole new light.
Along the way Paradinas touches on dark-ambient drones (“Marmite”), horror-film themes (“Belt & Carpet”), jungle breaks (“Mesolithic Jungle”), and even house music (“Houzz 13”), which marks the first bona fide dance-floor moment on Balmat to date). Yet the album never—to our ears, anyway— feels expressly retro. Rather, Paradinas plucks timeless sounds out of the ether and gives them a gentle tap, spinning them into unexpected new orbits. At times, 1977 feels like an experience of extended déjà vu: When we first listened to it, we had the sense that we already knew this music. It was as though we had heard it years ago, perhaps on a battered cassette tape lent to us by a friend, and been searching for it ever since. We hope you feel the same. More
When we established Balmat in 2021, neither of us could have imagined that within two years, we’d be putting out an album by one of our musical heroes: Mike Paradinas, aka µ-Ziq. The British producer has been an inspiration to label co-founders Albert Salinas and Philip Sherburne since the 1990s. In fact, his album-length remix project The Auteurs Vs µ-Ziq was one of the very first pieces of electronic music that Philip bought, way back in 1994. To have the opportunity to release his music now feels like a real full-circle moment.
Paradinas, of course, needs no introduction. Under a slew of aliases, chief among them µ-Ziq, the British artist revolutionized leftfield electronic music in the 1990s—coincidentally, this year marks the 30th anniversary of his debut album, Tango N’ Vectif, for his friend and sometime collaborator Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label—and his label Planet Mu has built up a formidable catalog of visionary, forwardlooking records, mapping virtually every corner of the electronic spectrum. With 1977, he turns the clock backward in a sense, and not just with the album’s title: Rooted in classic ambient and electronic sounds, these 15 tracks evoke the anything-goes spirit of the early ’90s, before the tools and tropes had calcified into cut-and-dried styles.
There’s no shortage of familiar sounds on 1977. There are echoes of raves and chillout rooms and transmissions from the fringes of techno; there are detuned synths and glistening reverb tails and, above all, gauzy vox pads, the eerie glue that holds it all together. The title, he says, is meant to invoke a general sense of nostalgia, bookmarking a year in his boyhood when he became more selfaware. More than anything, 1977 sounds like µ-Ziq distilled: Stripped of his signature breakbeats and customary chaos, Paradinas’ first-ever strictly (well, mostly) ambient album presents the essence of his music in a whole new light.
Along the way Paradinas touches on dark-ambient drones (“Marmite”), horror-film themes (“Belt & Carpet”), jungle breaks (“Mesolithic Jungle”), and even house music (“Houzz 13”), which marks the first bona fide dance-floor moment on Balmat to date). Yet the album never—to our ears, anyway— feels expressly retro. Rather, Paradinas plucks timeless sounds out of the ether and gives them a gentle tap, spinning them into unexpected new orbits. At times, 1977 feels like an experience of extended déjà vu: When we first listened to it, we had the sense that we already knew this music. It was as though we had heard it years ago, perhaps on a battered cassette tape lent to us by a friend, and been searching for it ever since. We hope you feel the same. More
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Label:Kalahari Oyster Cult
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Repress!
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Bartosz Kruczynski - Dream I
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Bartosz Kruczynski - Dream II
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Bartosz Kruczynski - Dream III
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Bartosz Kruczynski - Dream IV
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We’ve always been careful not to call Balmat an ambient label, because we like having the freedom to move, to drift, to morph. But with our 11th release, we turn our ears—proudly, blissfully—to a strain of ambient at its most timeless. The appropriately titled Dreams & Whispers comes from Warsaw’s Bartosz Kruczynski, who has recorded under a number of guises, Earth Trax, as well as his own name. Over the years, he’s touched upon deep house, breakbeats, acid, techno, electro, IDM, and more; often, the throughline running through a given album is simply the refusal to remain in any one place for long—well, that, and his unusually nuanced ear for harmony and texture.
Those qualities come to the fore on Dreams & Whispers, which might be the most focused encapsulation of Kruczynski’s atmospheric sensibilities to date.. Across 14 stripped-down tracks for shimmer and pulse, Kruczynski evokes overlapping styles in ambient—warm vibraphones, taut arps, massing strings, lonesome delay chains —but always with his own twist. Fitting the album’s title, the album is loosely divided into two distinct moods: The A-side, “Dreams,” is charged with subtle movement, rhythms spreading out like rings around skipped stones, while the B-side, “Whispers,” plunges into a zone of shadows and hush. The two complementary moods flow into one another like the faces of a Moebius strip, yielding an album that’s intuitively shaped and rich in emotion. More
Those qualities come to the fore on Dreams & Whispers, which might be the most focused encapsulation of Kruczynski’s atmospheric sensibilities to date.. Across 14 stripped-down tracks for shimmer and pulse, Kruczynski evokes overlapping styles in ambient—warm vibraphones, taut arps, massing strings, lonesome delay chains —but always with his own twist. Fitting the album’s title, the album is loosely divided into two distinct moods: The A-side, “Dreams,” is charged with subtle movement, rhythms spreading out like rings around skipped stones, while the B-side, “Whispers,” plunges into a zone of shadows and hush. The two complementary moods flow into one another like the faces of a Moebius strip, yielding an album that’s intuitively shaped and rich in emotion. More
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Struction - Just
2
Struction - Flip
3
Struction - Givven
4
Struction - Sunray
Mind-expanding Spaceship Customer Support
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Label:Kalahari Oyster Cult
Cat-No:OYSTER45
Release-Date:21.06.2024
Genre:House / Techno
Configuration:2LP
Label:Kalahari Oyster Cult
Cat-No:OYSTER45
Release-Date:21.06.2024
Genre:House / Techno
Configuration:2LP
1
SW. - SKYnetOPENwindow
2
SW. - daREAL90'sdeal
3
SW. - shaCAT'selecTRON70's
4
SW. - rimFLYgemini
5
SW. - nightTRAIN29X
6
SW. - deeepFLYYyyHIgh
7
SW. - silverLIGHTrePHLEXTION
8
SW. - gemiNIorigIN
9
SW. - CUTlightDAY
10
SW. - YZXY endERGY
The mercurial talent that is SW. back in the building with a new album, and if it weren’t already apparent, OYSTER45 goes some way to assert his place in the pantheon of pioneering producers. In fact, nobody can question his position right at the vanguard of forward-facing dancefloor dynamics.
myDEFINITION part II catches the SUED co-founder as vital as ever. Keeping it on that dusty, low-key flex that has long been his trademark, it harnesses ingenuity to conjure some of the most intriguing gear you’re likely to hear from a limited studio setup. Gone are the hi-tek jazz and ambient flourishes of the near-mythical ‘Untiled’ album, opting, instead, for pure dancefloor headiness. Precision-tooled breakbeats, opulent IDM cybernetics, tuff bleep n’ bass and late nite electro across 10 distinct trax.
Side quests into more abstract realms are fleeting. Dappled melodies evoke warmth in hues of pink and orange but any ambient-dub ephemera quickly dissipates into the peripheries in favour of club-ready pressure. The spectre of mid-‘90s dance music looms large but the SW. blueprint, with its captivating free-form approach, spins those vintage tropes into a distinct sound unto itself. Masterful, cinematic and hallucinatory.
Often drawing comparisons with B12’s seminal brand of ambient techno, SW. will surely be a stylistic reference point in his own right for years to come. Such is the indelible influence he has cast on contemporary electronic music. More
myDEFINITION part II catches the SUED co-founder as vital as ever. Keeping it on that dusty, low-key flex that has long been his trademark, it harnesses ingenuity to conjure some of the most intriguing gear you’re likely to hear from a limited studio setup. Gone are the hi-tek jazz and ambient flourishes of the near-mythical ‘Untiled’ album, opting, instead, for pure dancefloor headiness. Precision-tooled breakbeats, opulent IDM cybernetics, tuff bleep n’ bass and late nite electro across 10 distinct trax.
Side quests into more abstract realms are fleeting. Dappled melodies evoke warmth in hues of pink and orange but any ambient-dub ephemera quickly dissipates into the peripheries in favour of club-ready pressure. The spectre of mid-‘90s dance music looms large but the SW. blueprint, with its captivating free-form approach, spins those vintage tropes into a distinct sound unto itself. Masterful, cinematic and hallucinatory.
Often drawing comparisons with B12’s seminal brand of ambient techno, SW. will surely be a stylistic reference point in his own right for years to come. Such is the indelible influence he has cast on contemporary electronic music. More
1
Coral Morphologic & Nick León - Deep Call
2
Coral Morphologic & Nick León - Hearts Aflutter
3
Coral Morphologic & Nick León - Discovery
4
Coral Morphologic & Nick León - Precipice
5
Coral Morphologic & Nick León - Reach Out
Coral Morphologic and Nick León’s Projections of a Coral City marks a series of collisions between distant
worlds: the organic and the artificial, the Eocene and the Anthropocene, sea and cement—and even, perhaps, ambient music and activism.
Coral Morphologic are the Miami duo of marine biologist Colin Foord and musician J.D. McKay; since 2007, they have used a variety of multimedia projects to generate environmental awareness of marine biodiversity—most notably Coral City Camera, an underwater webcam streaming live from an urban reef ecosystem in PortMiami.
Their citymate Nick León is a linchpin of South Florida’s contemporary leftfield electronic scene, with releases for Tra Tra Trax, Future Times, and NAAFI, and credits on records by Rosalía, GAIKA, and Iceboy Violet, among others.
This collaborative project dates back to 2022, when Coral Morphologic mounted a monumental projection-
mapping installation on Biscayne Boulevard. For five nights in late November and early December, macroscopic films of corals played out across the exterior of Knight Concert Hall. The installation was, on the one hand, a glimpse into a possible future, imagining how the city’s skyline might appear if unchecked global warming and rising seas led coral reefs to colonize the built environment. But it also represented a look back into the deep past, a reminder that Miami is literally built from marine limestone mined from the Everglades. Its concrete foundations began life, eons ago, as a marine ecosystem—the same ecosystem that may one day reclaim them. As above, so below.
As an album, Projections of a Coral City is a suite of interconnected movements spread across two sides of vinyl. The tones are watery, the mood elegiac, the colors a washed-out pastel. Forms that appear static on the surface gradually open up to reveal hidden depths teeming with microscopic movement. You might detect resonances with other aquatically minded works—Jürgen Müller’s Science of the Sea, Harold Budd’s liquid piano compositions, even the slow-moving melancholy of Dr. Roger Payne’s Songs of the Humpback Whale. But ultimately Projections of a Coral City creates the impression of a world unto itself—a hauntingly beautiful space at the meeting point between sorrow and hope.
——-
Balmat is a label with a cloudy outline. Jointly shepherded by Albert Salinas and Philip Sherburne, two friends living in Cardedeu, Catalonia, and on the Balearic island of Menorca, Balmat grew out of Lapsus Radio, a weekly show born almost ten years ago. Balmat’s mission is simple: to foster new ideas, expand upon personal obsessions, and put enveloping sounds out into the world.
“Balmat” means “empty” or “void” in Catalan. But quite apart from any negative connotations, we prefer to think of it in terms of possibility: a space waiting to be filled. More
worlds: the organic and the artificial, the Eocene and the Anthropocene, sea and cement—and even, perhaps, ambient music and activism.
Coral Morphologic are the Miami duo of marine biologist Colin Foord and musician J.D. McKay; since 2007, they have used a variety of multimedia projects to generate environmental awareness of marine biodiversity—most notably Coral City Camera, an underwater webcam streaming live from an urban reef ecosystem in PortMiami.
Their citymate Nick León is a linchpin of South Florida’s contemporary leftfield electronic scene, with releases for Tra Tra Trax, Future Times, and NAAFI, and credits on records by Rosalía, GAIKA, and Iceboy Violet, among others.
This collaborative project dates back to 2022, when Coral Morphologic mounted a monumental projection-
mapping installation on Biscayne Boulevard. For five nights in late November and early December, macroscopic films of corals played out across the exterior of Knight Concert Hall. The installation was, on the one hand, a glimpse into a possible future, imagining how the city’s skyline might appear if unchecked global warming and rising seas led coral reefs to colonize the built environment. But it also represented a look back into the deep past, a reminder that Miami is literally built from marine limestone mined from the Everglades. Its concrete foundations began life, eons ago, as a marine ecosystem—the same ecosystem that may one day reclaim them. As above, so below.
As an album, Projections of a Coral City is a suite of interconnected movements spread across two sides of vinyl. The tones are watery, the mood elegiac, the colors a washed-out pastel. Forms that appear static on the surface gradually open up to reveal hidden depths teeming with microscopic movement. You might detect resonances with other aquatically minded works—Jürgen Müller’s Science of the Sea, Harold Budd’s liquid piano compositions, even the slow-moving melancholy of Dr. Roger Payne’s Songs of the Humpback Whale. But ultimately Projections of a Coral City creates the impression of a world unto itself—a hauntingly beautiful space at the meeting point between sorrow and hope.
——-
Balmat is a label with a cloudy outline. Jointly shepherded by Albert Salinas and Philip Sherburne, two friends living in Cardedeu, Catalonia, and on the Balearic island of Menorca, Balmat grew out of Lapsus Radio, a weekly show born almost ten years ago. Balmat’s mission is simple: to foster new ideas, expand upon personal obsessions, and put enveloping sounds out into the world.
“Balmat” means “empty” or “void” in Catalan. But quite apart from any negative connotations, we prefer to think of it in terms of possibility: a space waiting to be filled. More
1
Ylia - Ame Agari
2
Ylia - Todos Los Cuerpos
3
Ylia - Nuances Of Care
4
Ylia - Flowers In June
5
Ylia - Tus Manos Cobijo
6
Ylia - Luz De Camino
7
Ylia - Drifting Into The Good Night
8
Ylia - El Único Adiós Posible
Ylia—aka Susana Hernández—had a remarkably productive 2020. In addition to releasing her debut album, Dulce Rendición, on Barcelona’s Paralaxe Editions, she penned compilation tracks for Lapsus Records, Hivern Discs, and Super Utu/Stars on Earth.
But professional success can be deceiving: The following year was, personally speaking, terrible. Her grandfather died. Her father died. Her cat died. And she ended a relationship. “That’s a lot of things all at once, no?” she says.
Her second album, Ame Agaru, is not necessarily a record of that year, but it is, she says, a response to those life events—a record of grief.
The new album is clearly a continuation of the ambient investigations of Ylia’s debut, but it differs in key ways. Where Dulce Rendición was exploratory and faintly cosmic, Ame Agaru—a Japanese phrase meaning, roughly, “the rain lifts”— captures a melancholy sense of stillness. And where her debut was largely electronic, on the new album, Ylia has folded in a number of acoustic elements, even when they are not recognizable as such. Her partner, Alejandro Lévar, lends fingerpicked acoustic guitar to the glowing dronescapes of “Todos los Cuerpos”; multi-instrumentalist and bandleader Tete Leal adds flutes, clarinet, and soprano saxophone to “Ame Agari”—or “after the rain”—which opens the album with a moment of contemplative calm, the kind that follows an extended deluge.
One track, the dub techno-influenced “Flowers in June,” grew out of Ylia’s live sets, but the rest are the fruit of improvisational sessions at home in Málaga, five minutes from the beach—jamming and then refining, searching for the ideal expression of a feeling as it was first captured. Searching for the spontaneity behind the stillness. In places, Ylia even incorporates piano, an instrument she has played since she was 10, yet has never included on one of her recordings before. For the most part on Ame Agaru, she seeks ways to fuse piano with synthesizers and electronic processes. But on the closing track, “El Único Adiós Posible,” she leaves us alone with the instrument in all its stark, unadorned beauty. It is a profoundly moving conclusion to an album defined by its economy of means and purity of expression: a cycle More
But professional success can be deceiving: The following year was, personally speaking, terrible. Her grandfather died. Her father died. Her cat died. And she ended a relationship. “That’s a lot of things all at once, no?” she says.
Her second album, Ame Agaru, is not necessarily a record of that year, but it is, she says, a response to those life events—a record of grief.
The new album is clearly a continuation of the ambient investigations of Ylia’s debut, but it differs in key ways. Where Dulce Rendición was exploratory and faintly cosmic, Ame Agaru—a Japanese phrase meaning, roughly, “the rain lifts”— captures a melancholy sense of stillness. And where her debut was largely electronic, on the new album, Ylia has folded in a number of acoustic elements, even when they are not recognizable as such. Her partner, Alejandro Lévar, lends fingerpicked acoustic guitar to the glowing dronescapes of “Todos los Cuerpos”; multi-instrumentalist and bandleader Tete Leal adds flutes, clarinet, and soprano saxophone to “Ame Agari”—or “after the rain”—which opens the album with a moment of contemplative calm, the kind that follows an extended deluge.
One track, the dub techno-influenced “Flowers in June,” grew out of Ylia’s live sets, but the rest are the fruit of improvisational sessions at home in Málaga, five minutes from the beach—jamming and then refining, searching for the ideal expression of a feeling as it was first captured. Searching for the spontaneity behind the stillness. In places, Ylia even incorporates piano, an instrument she has played since she was 10, yet has never included on one of her recordings before. For the most part on Ame Agaru, she seeks ways to fuse piano with synthesizers and electronic processes. But on the closing track, “El Único Adiós Posible,” she leaves us alone with the instrument in all its stark, unadorned beauty. It is a profoundly moving conclusion to an album defined by its economy of means and purity of expression: a cycle More
1
Bicep, - Stash
2
Bicep, - Courtside Drama
3
Bicep, - Rise
4
Bicep, - The Game
2022 Repress
UPC: 827170486263
Tracklist EP: A1: Stash A2: Courtside Drama B1:Rise B2: The Game
Release Info:
Aus Music non-stop. Not quite content with already chalking up two of the biggest EPs of 2013 so far from Midland and Dusky, Aus return once again with yet another release you’ve been waiting for - the return of Belfast’s biggest sons, Bicep. The London-based duo of Andrew Ferguson and Matthew McBriar had a breakthrough year in 2012, four years after the pair's Feel My Bicep blog first began. The past year has seen them play in more than a dozen countries, including major gigs across the US, China and, more recently, Australia, with particular highlights including a peak time set at Berlin’s haloed Panorama Bar and capacity crowds at both Sub Club and Trouw. In addition to the release of “You/ Don’t” on Aus, the boys also inaugurated their own imprint With the Visions Of Love EP, whilst "$tripper", which was released through Love Fever, came in at number 35 on RA's top 50 tracks of 2012 poll. Further to that they scooped the award for DJ Mag’s Best Breakthrough DJ, supplied Tim Sweeney’s Beats In Space show with an exclusive mix of unreleased material, remixed Ripperton’s “Let’s Hope,” and all the while maintaining the DJ treasure trove that is their blog. Across the EP they take things a little deeper, delving into a different area of their own personal taste. What's presented is an overall more lo-fi style and broader approach, drawing from a wide range of influences including King Street Sounds, HBO's The Wire and Aphex Twin. More
UPC: 827170486263
Tracklist EP: A1: Stash A2: Courtside Drama B1:Rise B2: The Game
Release Info:
Aus Music non-stop. Not quite content with already chalking up two of the biggest EPs of 2013 so far from Midland and Dusky, Aus return once again with yet another release you’ve been waiting for - the return of Belfast’s biggest sons, Bicep. The London-based duo of Andrew Ferguson and Matthew McBriar had a breakthrough year in 2012, four years after the pair's Feel My Bicep blog first began. The past year has seen them play in more than a dozen countries, including major gigs across the US, China and, more recently, Australia, with particular highlights including a peak time set at Berlin’s haloed Panorama Bar and capacity crowds at both Sub Club and Trouw. In addition to the release of “You/ Don’t” on Aus, the boys also inaugurated their own imprint With the Visions Of Love EP, whilst "$tripper", which was released through Love Fever, came in at number 35 on RA's top 50 tracks of 2012 poll. Further to that they scooped the award for DJ Mag’s Best Breakthrough DJ, supplied Tim Sweeney’s Beats In Space show with an exclusive mix of unreleased material, remixed Ripperton’s “Let’s Hope,” and all the while maintaining the DJ treasure trove that is their blog. Across the EP they take things a little deeper, delving into a different area of their own personal taste. What's presented is an overall more lo-fi style and broader approach, drawing from a wide range of influences including King Street Sounds, HBO's The Wire and Aphex Twin. More
1
Brainwaltzera - A1. FMsquared [royal wavetable mellodies A]
2
Brainwaltzera - A2. copperfeel
3
Brainwaltzera - A3. WSsquared [royal wavetable mellodies B]
4
Brainwaltzera - B1. good endgar
5
Brainwaltzera - B2. FMsquared [epiloggy] [beauvine bonus perc version]
6
Brainwaltzera - B3. LANsqape4 [short_oneTake]
LP
tracklist:
A1. FMsquared [royal wavetable mellodies A] B1. good endgar
A2. copperfeel B2. FMsquared [epiloggy] [beauvine bonus perc version]
A3. WSsquared [royal wavetable mellodies B] B3. LANsqape4 [short_oneTake]
short info:
Brainwaltzera returns to FILM with a brace of archive recordings in the artist's characteristically idiosyncratic style.
The collection opens with FMsquared [royal wavetable mellodies A], a mesmerizing beatless composition split across two contrasting movements. Synth-focused, the first explores a more introspective tone whilst the second is decidedly more elevated and playful. Follow up good endgar showcases the artist's enviable talent for crafting rolling, wide-open IDM, marrying crisp drum machine hits with washed out pads and a resonant bassline. WSsquared [royal wavetable mellodies B] follows the same pattern as mellodies A, split once again into two movements. This time each movement is markedly more distinct: the first, an atmospheric, half-time dirge and the second a more uplifting and esoteric workout, with crystalline FX breaking up the composition. On LANsqape4 [short_oneTake] Brainwaltzera lets the drums roll out, underpinning more lush synth work with a hint of a break closing in as the piece subsides near its close. Copperfeel, the penultimate offering, is the most reduced work in the collection with a single main melody doing the bulk of the legwork, and buoyed by vocal-sounding synths. FMsquared [epiloggy] [beauvine bonus perc version] closes the collection, a pleasing bookend that sees the riff from the opening track's latter movement return - now underpinned with rolling drums.
More
tracklist:
A1. FMsquared [royal wavetable mellodies A] B1. good endgar
A2. copperfeel B2. FMsquared [epiloggy] [beauvine bonus perc version]
A3. WSsquared [royal wavetable mellodies B] B3. LANsqape4 [short_oneTake]
short info:
Brainwaltzera returns to FILM with a brace of archive recordings in the artist's characteristically idiosyncratic style.
The collection opens with FMsquared [royal wavetable mellodies A], a mesmerizing beatless composition split across two contrasting movements. Synth-focused, the first explores a more introspective tone whilst the second is decidedly more elevated and playful. Follow up good endgar showcases the artist's enviable talent for crafting rolling, wide-open IDM, marrying crisp drum machine hits with washed out pads and a resonant bassline. WSsquared [royal wavetable mellodies B] follows the same pattern as mellodies A, split once again into two movements. This time each movement is markedly more distinct: the first, an atmospheric, half-time dirge and the second a more uplifting and esoteric workout, with crystalline FX breaking up the composition. On LANsqape4 [short_oneTake] Brainwaltzera lets the drums roll out, underpinning more lush synth work with a hint of a break closing in as the piece subsides near its close. Copperfeel, the penultimate offering, is the most reduced work in the collection with a single main melody doing the bulk of the legwork, and buoyed by vocal-sounding synths. FMsquared [epiloggy] [beauvine bonus perc version] closes the collection, a pleasing bookend that sees the riff from the opening track's latter movement return - now underpinned with rolling drums.
More
1
Guy Pedersen - Indian Pop Bass (2:35)
2
Guy Pedersen - Prélude À Une Angoisse (2:20)
3
Guy Pedersen - Patio Bass (2:30)
4
Guy Pedersen - Tension Nerveuse (2:10)
5
Guy Pedersen - Amour, Délices Et Contrebasse (2:30)
6
Guy Pedersen - Percussion Bass (2:50)
7
Guy Pedersen - Obsession Diabolique (2:02)
8
Guy Pedersen - Les Copains De La Basse (2:32)
9
Guy Pedersen - Doucement La Basse (2:22)
10
Guy Pedersen - Bass Session (2:25)
11
Guy Pedersen - Bass After Love (2:06)
12
Guy Pedersen - Ballade Pour Une Basse (2:02)
13
Guy Pedersen - Cosmic Bass (2:55)
Territories: Worldwide no restrictions
Format Notes: Part of Tele Music Reissue Campaign, 2023 first time reissue, 140g vinyl
Track List:
A1 Indian Pop Bass 2:35
A2 Prélude À Une Angoisse 2:20
A3 Patio Bass 2:30
A4 Tension Nerveuse 2:10
A5 Amour, Délices Et Contrebasse 2:30
A6 Percussion Bass 2:50
A7 Obsession Diabolique 2:02
B1 Les Copains De La Basse 2:32
B2 Doucement La Basse 2:22
B3 Bass Session 2:25
B4 Bass After Love 2:06
B5 Ballade Pour Une Basse 2:02
B6 Cosmic Bass 2:55
Release Notes:
Guy Pedersen, French jazz-soul-funk double-bass player extraordinaire, recorded Contrebasses in 1970 for Tele Music. It's one of the most outstanding - yet puzzlingly slept-on - releases in the library's catalogue. Forget library, this is basically a sublime, straight-up moody jazz record with monster breaks. It's brimming with sensational psychedelic/jazzy bass-heavy moments throughout; it's absolute gold.
"Indian Pop Bass" contains a deep, abstract breakbeat that intersects with a bassline that loops as if it sinks into the swaying, heavy, slow drums. The mysterious, deliberate "Prélude À Une Angoisse" is an eerie, magical number with ace effects whilst "Patio Bass" is a breezy deep jazz knockout with fantastic drums and a sashaying melody. "Tension Nerveuse" creates an atmosphere that's exactly as the title suggests, full of genuine suspense, rumbling percussion and deep drama jazz. "Amour, Délices Et Contrebasse" is a touch lightweight so you're advised to head to the much darker, peculiar funk of "Percussion Bass", bursting with imaginative sounds and effects. "Obsession Diabolique" closes out the A Side, with a funky walking bassline and sparkling percussion battling against droning strings to create a uniquely unsettling, beatless track.
Enlivening the B-Side immediately is the fantastic, propulsive funky-jazz of "Les Copains De La Basse". "Doucement La Basse" is largely forgettable but "Bass Session" is a blazing psych-jazz-rock burner. Absolutely thrilling. Equally, "Bass After Love" is devastatingly psychy, funky and unique. "Ballade Pour Une Basse" is a classic funky French jazz piece with an infectious bass melody that seems to anticipate "Before The Night Is Over", the Joe Simon track that Outkast sampled for "So Fresh, So Clean".
The audio for Contrebasses has been remastered by Be With regular Simon Francis, ensuring this release sounds better than ever. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the original, iconic Tele Music house sleeve has been restored here at Be With HQ as the finishing touch to this long overdue re-issue. More
Format Notes: Part of Tele Music Reissue Campaign, 2023 first time reissue, 140g vinyl
Track List:
A1 Indian Pop Bass 2:35
A2 Prélude À Une Angoisse 2:20
A3 Patio Bass 2:30
A4 Tension Nerveuse 2:10
A5 Amour, Délices Et Contrebasse 2:30
A6 Percussion Bass 2:50
A7 Obsession Diabolique 2:02
B1 Les Copains De La Basse 2:32
B2 Doucement La Basse 2:22
B3 Bass Session 2:25
B4 Bass After Love 2:06
B5 Ballade Pour Une Basse 2:02
B6 Cosmic Bass 2:55
Release Notes:
Guy Pedersen, French jazz-soul-funk double-bass player extraordinaire, recorded Contrebasses in 1970 for Tele Music. It's one of the most outstanding - yet puzzlingly slept-on - releases in the library's catalogue. Forget library, this is basically a sublime, straight-up moody jazz record with monster breaks. It's brimming with sensational psychedelic/jazzy bass-heavy moments throughout; it's absolute gold.
"Indian Pop Bass" contains a deep, abstract breakbeat that intersects with a bassline that loops as if it sinks into the swaying, heavy, slow drums. The mysterious, deliberate "Prélude À Une Angoisse" is an eerie, magical number with ace effects whilst "Patio Bass" is a breezy deep jazz knockout with fantastic drums and a sashaying melody. "Tension Nerveuse" creates an atmosphere that's exactly as the title suggests, full of genuine suspense, rumbling percussion and deep drama jazz. "Amour, Délices Et Contrebasse" is a touch lightweight so you're advised to head to the much darker, peculiar funk of "Percussion Bass", bursting with imaginative sounds and effects. "Obsession Diabolique" closes out the A Side, with a funky walking bassline and sparkling percussion battling against droning strings to create a uniquely unsettling, beatless track.
Enlivening the B-Side immediately is the fantastic, propulsive funky-jazz of "Les Copains De La Basse". "Doucement La Basse" is largely forgettable but "Bass Session" is a blazing psych-jazz-rock burner. Absolutely thrilling. Equally, "Bass After Love" is devastatingly psychy, funky and unique. "Ballade Pour Une Basse" is a classic funky French jazz piece with an infectious bass melody that seems to anticipate "Before The Night Is Over", the Joe Simon track that Outkast sampled for "So Fresh, So Clean".
The audio for Contrebasses has been remastered by Be With regular Simon Francis, ensuring this release sounds better than ever. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the original, iconic Tele Music house sleeve has been restored here at Be With HQ as the finishing touch to this long overdue re-issue. More
1
trentemoller - Moan (Trentemoller Remix)
2
trentemoller - Moan (Radioslave Remix)
2022 repress
Tracklist:
01 Moan (Trentemoller Remix)
02 Moan (Radioslave Remix)
Only released in October 2006, Anders Trentemøller‘s stunning debut-album „The Last Resort“ already evolved into one of the most successful independent albums of the year. Raving reviews all over the place, various elections as „album of the year“ and solid playlists at the radios express the huge interest in the fantastic album. While 2006 has been topped of with a tour through Australia, the first Trentemøller highlight in 2007 will be the release of „Moan“, the second single from the album. For the a-side Trentemøller himself created a brilliant remix of the „Moan“-Vocal Version, which has been released on the Bonus-CD of the limited edition album only. Trentemøller managed to keep the mystic melancholic vibe of the track featuring the vocals of danish talent Ane Trolle, but adds punshy drums, screaming synths and some more guitars to guarantee serious dancefloor-action. Radioslave aka Matt Edwards aka Rekid aka Quite Village, on of the most in demand remix artists at the moment (Moby, Booka Shade, Justice, Peace Division, Pet Shop Boys, Joakim etc) contributed a great remix on the flipside. Slowly building over reduced drumpatterns their mix culminates into a manic wall of sound. While Poker Flat 81 features the vocal versions of both Trentemøller‘s and Radioslve‘s remixes, the instrumental and dub versions will be released simultaneously More
Tracklist:
01 Moan (Trentemoller Remix)
02 Moan (Radioslave Remix)
Only released in October 2006, Anders Trentemøller‘s stunning debut-album „The Last Resort“ already evolved into one of the most successful independent albums of the year. Raving reviews all over the place, various elections as „album of the year“ and solid playlists at the radios express the huge interest in the fantastic album. While 2006 has been topped of with a tour through Australia, the first Trentemøller highlight in 2007 will be the release of „Moan“, the second single from the album. For the a-side Trentemøller himself created a brilliant remix of the „Moan“-Vocal Version, which has been released on the Bonus-CD of the limited edition album only. Trentemøller managed to keep the mystic melancholic vibe of the track featuring the vocals of danish talent Ane Trolle, but adds punshy drums, screaming synths and some more guitars to guarantee serious dancefloor-action. Radioslave aka Matt Edwards aka Rekid aka Quite Village, on of the most in demand remix artists at the moment (Moby, Booka Shade, Justice, Peace Division, Pet Shop Boys, Joakim etc) contributed a great remix on the flipside. Slowly building over reduced drumpatterns their mix culminates into a manic wall of sound. While Poker Flat 81 features the vocal versions of both Trentemøller‘s and Radioslve‘s remixes, the instrumental and dub versions will be released simultaneously More
1
µ-Ziq - 4am
2
µ-Ziq - Éire
3
µ-Ziq - Allegro
4
µ-Ziq - Houzz 13
5
µ-Ziq - Belt & Carpet
6
µ-Ziq - Marmite
7
µ-Ziq - Asda
8
µ-Ziq - 1977 (Ft. Meemo Comma)
9
µ-Ziq - Xolbe 3
10
µ-Ziq - Burnt Orange
11
µ-Ziq - Lime Aero
12
µ-Ziq - Reference Gravy
13
µ-Ziq - Mesolithic Jungle
14
µ-Ziq - Pillowy
15
µ-Ziq - Froglets
When we established Balmat in 2021, neither of us could have imagined that within two years, we’d be putting out an album by one of our musical heroes: Mike Paradinas, aka µ-Ziq. The British producer has been an inspiration to label co-founders Albert Salinas and Philip Sherburne since the 1990s. In fact, his album-length remix project The Auteurs Vs µ-Ziq was one of the very first pieces of electronic music that Philip bought, way back in 1994. To have the opportunity to release his music now feels like a real full-circle moment.
Paradinas, of course, needs no introduction. Under a slew of aliases, chief among them µ-Ziq, the British artist revolutionized leftfield electronic music in the 1990s—coincidentally, this year marks the 30th anniversary of his debut album, Tango N’ Vectif, for his friend and sometime collaborator Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label—and his label Planet Mu has built up a formidable catalog of visionary, forwardlooking records, mapping virtually every corner of the electronic spectrum. With 1977, he turns the clock backward in a sense, and not just with the album’s title: Rooted in classic ambient and electronic sounds, these 15 tracks evoke the anything-goes spirit of the early ’90s, before the tools and tropes had calcified into cut-and-dried styles.
There’s no shortage of familiar sounds on 1977. There are echoes of raves and chillout rooms and transmissions from the fringes of techno; there are detuned synths and glistening reverb tails and, above all, gauzy vox pads, the eerie glue that holds it all together. The title, he says, is meant to invoke a general sense of nostalgia, bookmarking a year in his boyhood when he became more selfaware. More than anything, 1977 sounds like µ-Ziq distilled: Stripped of his signature breakbeats and customary chaos, Paradinas’ first-ever strictly (well, mostly) ambient album presents the essence of his music in a whole new light.
Along the way Paradinas touches on dark-ambient drones (“Marmite”), horror-film themes (“Belt & Carpet”), jungle breaks (“Mesolithic Jungle”), and even house music (“Houzz 13”), which marks the first bona fide dance-floor moment on Balmat to date). Yet the album never—to our ears, anyway— feels expressly retro. Rather, Paradinas plucks timeless sounds out of the ether and gives them a gentle tap, spinning them into unexpected new orbits. At times, 1977 feels like an experience of extended déjà vu: When we first listened to it, we had the sense that we already knew this music. It was as though we had heard it years ago, perhaps on a battered cassette tape lent to us by a friend, and been searching for it ever since. We hope you feel the same. More
Paradinas, of course, needs no introduction. Under a slew of aliases, chief among them µ-Ziq, the British artist revolutionized leftfield electronic music in the 1990s—coincidentally, this year marks the 30th anniversary of his debut album, Tango N’ Vectif, for his friend and sometime collaborator Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label—and his label Planet Mu has built up a formidable catalog of visionary, forwardlooking records, mapping virtually every corner of the electronic spectrum. With 1977, he turns the clock backward in a sense, and not just with the album’s title: Rooted in classic ambient and electronic sounds, these 15 tracks evoke the anything-goes spirit of the early ’90s, before the tools and tropes had calcified into cut-and-dried styles.
There’s no shortage of familiar sounds on 1977. There are echoes of raves and chillout rooms and transmissions from the fringes of techno; there are detuned synths and glistening reverb tails and, above all, gauzy vox pads, the eerie glue that holds it all together. The title, he says, is meant to invoke a general sense of nostalgia, bookmarking a year in his boyhood when he became more selfaware. More than anything, 1977 sounds like µ-Ziq distilled: Stripped of his signature breakbeats and customary chaos, Paradinas’ first-ever strictly (well, mostly) ambient album presents the essence of his music in a whole new light.
Along the way Paradinas touches on dark-ambient drones (“Marmite”), horror-film themes (“Belt & Carpet”), jungle breaks (“Mesolithic Jungle”), and even house music (“Houzz 13”), which marks the first bona fide dance-floor moment on Balmat to date). Yet the album never—to our ears, anyway— feels expressly retro. Rather, Paradinas plucks timeless sounds out of the ether and gives them a gentle tap, spinning them into unexpected new orbits. At times, 1977 feels like an experience of extended déjà vu: When we first listened to it, we had the sense that we already knew this music. It was as though we had heard it years ago, perhaps on a battered cassette tape lent to us by a friend, and been searching for it ever since. We hope you feel the same. More