ZERO OHMS & BRANNAN LANE

Immense Distance

Space for Music Records (2003)

Both Zero Ohms (Richard Roberts) and Brannan Lane have come to prominence lately with strings of numerous ambient and atmospheric releases, placing them both at the forefront of the recent explosion of electronic-ambient artists. Prior to now, I was unfamiliar with both artists' diverse oeuvre. Lane's output is extremely--some might say excessively--frequent, (though truth be told he is no more frequent than Steve Roach, these days). Roberts releases Zero Ohms CDs on a regular basis. Both work together to create their second effort, the follow-up to last year's Soundfall to the Infinite: Immense Distance.

Being unversed in both artists' work, I was unsure what to expect from Immense Distance. Both Roberts and Lane are eclectic musicians, often playing a vast variety of acoustic and electronic equipment on any given release. Immense Distance came as a breathtaking surprise to me; upon first listen I could sense I was in capable, practiced hands.

Immense Distance is an album of complimentary parallels. Stated on the cover is a dedication to the lost shuttle Columbia and its crew. Clearly the thematic focus to Immense Distance is exploration of unknown territories; a rich field to explore musically, indeed. We begin with tracks one and two--really one long track--titled "Flows Adrift" and "On a Cosmic Sea." These tracks are a single reverberant soundscape with trilling flutes, sustained bells (that sound similar to the Tibetan Singing Bowl), as well as various environmental effects that give the track a distinctly Alio Die feel. This is understated environmental ambient at its most brilliant, as the music conjures up still forest landscapes, ghostly fields, and piers overlooking a gently undulating sea stretching into the distance. It's quite easy to get lost in deep-drone tracks like this, especially easy when the tracks are as intoxicating as these. By the time track two begins (seamlessly), we obtain a clear view of Lane's and Robert's intent. A gradual focus on flute, reminding me very much of Robert Rich's work, is apparent. Almost imperceptibly, creaking and sloshing noises become more prominent. It all becomes clear. We are on a vast sailing ship, traveling a great distance to explore completely foreign territory. We are not there yet, and are not likely to be there for some time. This is not the vision of exploration from the captain's cabin, complete with thoughts of monetary or trade gain--this is the view of travel from a sailor's perspective, deep down in the bowels of the ship where the shaped wood cuts through the wine-dark ocean, ungainly but inexorable. This craft may never reach the far shores, but the tone of brave exploration is maintained nonetheless. Taken in this perspective, this nearly twenty-five minute composition is staggering.

We then move forward to track three, "Immense Distance," which begins with a modern synth tone melody, accompanied by dramatic tympani-sounds and Robert's delicate tinwhistle. We are on the ocean no longer, unless one regards infinite space as an ocean of a sort. In the spirit of past trailblazers, this track reminds one of the calm before a spacecraft begins its journey into the heavens. The synth melody earths this track, and also permeates it with a sense of modernity absent from the previous two tracks. Personally, I felt it to unnecessarily dominate the entire track, volume-wise, but it seems as if this might be intentional. Track four, "On Currents of Sound," brings us right back to the ocean-faring ship, this time having reached its destination--an undiscovered land. We drift on the currents, eyes to the coastline, wondering what might be hidden beneath the verdant green ashore. Perhaps uninhabited nothingness, perhaps burgeoning civilization; regardless this is rich terrain to explore. On track five, "Into the Nth," we are transported to the spacecraft's destination, the impossible gorgeousness of space. There is no up or down here, only ever-expanding distance, 360 degrees around. The craft floats weightlessly above Earth, providing the ultimate perspective--just how small our tiny pebble of Earth is compared to the supreme majesty of the Universe.

We have been following parallel journeys, similar in spirit, separated only by time and technology, when track six, "In the Next Future" begins. Here, we have transcended earlier journeys into a rich tradition of selfless exploration. This is a gusty, vibrant track, reminding me of Eno's seminal "An Ending (Ascent)" from Apollo--another musical work devoted to man's endeavors outside his limited sphere. There are hints of the previous tracks here, all complimentarily added together. This is a gentle, affecting ending to a very memorable work.

In all, Roberts and Lane have crafted one of the finest ambient collaborations in recent memory. While both work in familiar and well-trodden styles, the work is strong, affecting, and emotional. The added parallels of man's exploratory nature make the music on Immense Distance all the more satisfying. There is a hushed reverence that pulls you in from the very first listen, allowing you to imagine yourself in shoes that most people will never likely have the opportunity to fill. This is a fine effort, and one I will be returning to often.

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VARIOUS ARTISTS

Collection 2: Moving

Databloem (2003)

Collection 2: Moving is, as the title suggests, the second compilation from the Dutch label Databloem. This label has been making a terrific name for itself, releasing high-quality electronica albums from a number of new and exciting artists. Moving is billed as "a collection of ambient explorations and grooves"--and it's a very satisfying collection; seemingly a denizen of an alternate universe where techno artists chose to discard their club roots in favor of the ambient sound. Don't expect banging tracks of stunning beatwork--this is a fine selection of laid-back, downtempo head-bobbers. Bring on the bullets:

We begin with Mantacoup whose recent Equinox was released on Databloem's DataObscura CD-R sublabel. That particular disc was a bit thin-sounding to these ears, with a distinctly glitchy element that did not quite gel over album length. "Sap" suffers from a similar deficiency, being rather short on dynamic range--the track chooses instead to plink along without ever really going anywhere. The eventual glitchy drum programming does little more than propel the basic track elements along. Though "Sap" is pleasant enough, I feel that there just isn't enough "meat" to the sound to make it anything more than a slightly over-long diversion.

Next is Carbon Boy's "Nano," a track that marries dubby bass with treated piano notes. The notes sound like huge raindrops over a cityscape, all urban sounds made clean and pure with a tantalizing blend of post-techno and ambient. It's a seamless mixture, with seemingly disparate elements converging perfectly and providing a great example of "ambient groove."

The Circular Ruins (whose Realm of Possibility is a favorite of mine) contributes "Empathy Test" which is less busy than most TCR work. This cut resembles Pete Namlook's work a bit more readily than previous TCR tracks, but is not the lesser because of it. Kerby's use of vocal samples is most impressive, giving the impression that something extremely important is being said--but the actual words are never revealed, as if one is inhabiting a dream. Once again, Kerby's synthwork is top notch, highly layered, and symphonic. Fine work.

Spielerei (Databloem owner Dennis Knopper) pleases the krautrock fan in me by providing "Displaying Movements" which sounds like nothing less than an updated Ashra circa New Age of Earth. The slick sequences, synth washes, and dreamy atmosphere recall the very best of Göttsching's mid-seventies material, but with a modern approach. This track's a winner, and for me one of the highlights of the compilation.

Ambient Review favorite Saul Stokes is next, weighing in with "Sopra." This could be an outtake from Fields, but don't be fooled into thinking it's a lesser track. Sopra is an alien jazz chanteuse whose voice is somehow familiar, though completely exotic. She's oddly beautiful for an offworlder, and what a voice! Who knows what she's singing about, in that strange alien language of hers? Likely a song of loss, a song of leaving worlds far more beautiful than ours behind. What's she doing in this dive, anyway? Terrific, memorable, and entirely flawless work by Stokes.

Todd Fletcher contributes a track under his Psychetropic guise (see my review of Heat) called "China Radio Sunshine." Once again Fletcher's strength in creating cool-sounding-synths is evident--slick, propulsive, entrancing. Fletcher's one of the under-appreciated artists in new ambient/electronic music, and this track is a cracker--soundscapes and grooves all at once.

ENV(itre)'s "Qulina" is weighed down by its influences to some degree, sounding like much on the Skam or Rephlex labels. While that's not at all a bad thing, the track never rises above "IDM by numbers," resembling closely tracks by Jega and other similar artists. Not the worst pattern to follow, but a constraining pattern nonetheless.

Makunouchi Bento is no raw fish, but a Romanian(!) duo whose "Mipoetri" (my poetry?) is permeated by a stunning jazz drummer's strut. Superb electronic atmospheres are combined with trip-hop beats, with tasteful use of cymbals. When organ-like synth kicks in, you have an urban (by way of Europe, of course) form of "cafe music." Pretty poetry that would not be out of place on a Pop Ambient compilation.

Next, Subradial brings us to a rainy day on the "Misty Hills." I'd swear Subradial sampled a ping-pong game for his percussive loop, and it sounds great. Once the ambient synthlines begin droning in the background, you know you are in good hands. This is a perfect example of layered electronic music where a number of different things are happening at the same time, yet gel perfectly together in a slick sonic orchestra. My mind reeled as I tried to take in all the elements--it's almost easier to let the track simply wash over. Great stuff.

Vir Unis is showing an increased attention to the glitch in his newer work, as "Bead Game" proves. The synth ambience he was originally acclaimed for is still present, but it's taken something of a backseat to more symphonic, bleepy atmospheres. This particular track seems indebted to both the recent Mercury and Plastic and his classic ambient CD The Drift Inside. This is not the strongest track I've heard from Vir Unis, but it does signify an interesting direction for future work. I get the impression that this is work on the way to a stylistic "somewhere else," but it hasn't quite gotten to where it's going yet.

Finally, Cyscape's Elumina makes the term "techno-tribal" seem appropriate. When the e-percussion kicks in and gradually mixes with some excellent synth atmosphere, there is the feeling that we have stumbled into some strange ritual where machine beings have adopted shamans rather than repair technicians. Bizarre. The atmospheres remind me of Tetsu Inoue's work with Pete Namlook (particularly on 62 Eulengasse), making a very satisfying, though somehow anti-climactic, finish to the collection.

For me, the strong tracks far, far outweigh the weak on Moving. Downtempo ambient tracks are a nice counterbalance to the constant drift and drone of traditional ambient music. Those seeking a more active range of ambient music (often mixed with IDM) will be more than pleased with the impressive breadth of material here. While I wasn't completely floored by any of the tracks, the collection as a whole is quite satisfying and listenable. This is a "genre" of music that seems to be gaining more prominence within the traditional ambient community, and I think the addition of outside styles has been completely healthy to the form. Databloem is proving to be a label to watch

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TIM HECKER

Radio Amor

Mille Plateaux (2003)

I make no secret of the fact that it often takes me quite a few listens to get into a particular record--whether it's an established artist or a debut by a new talent. Some records are immediately likeable upon first listen, offering a familiar challenge already experienced. Other albums are immediately difficult, making you wonder whether you like them at all. Invariably, I am compelled to listen to these selections over and over; as if the fault lies with me--I need to prove that the record is to blame and not my own tastes. Often, the difficult starts gradually insinuate themselves into my brain and end up harkening the introduction to some of my very favorite artists and albums--past tough treasures include works by Howard Hello and Voice of Eye's "Vespers"; now classic releases to my mind.

In a similar way, I was introduced to the decayed work of Tim Hecker (who also records under the name Jetone), via his first CD Haunt Me, Haunt Me, Do It Again. The level of sonic detail in that release was so vast and deep it took at least a dozen listens to fully appreciate, not to mention get my slow brain around. Hecker's work is in a similar glitchy vein as albums by Vladislav Delay, but without the attention to dubby textures in favor of a more traditionally minimalist and ambient aesthetic. While his first release showed a penchant for icy textures and Steve Reich minimalist touches, his follow-up, Radio Amor is a different--though sonically descendent--beast entirely. Radio Amor is inspired by tropical climes, as evidenced by the grainy photographs of the artwork--people playing in the surf, fishermen, nautical maps. The sounds here are digital abstractions, but warm and inviting.

While the vast majority of artists operating in the "glitch" mode are more than satisfied making fairly abstract works that emphasize means over ends, I find Hecker's work to have transcended that method of musical creation, furnishing a fresher, more grounded work. By using the techniques of modern digital manipulation, Hecker has created something of a concept album, with (it seems to me) the radio dial of a foreign land as its basis. The sounds of Radio Amor are ever-changing; a lengthy tableau of mixed signals fading in and out of consciousness. It is as if we are ourselves on a vast ocean, floating along with the changing radio signals--picking up repeated piano phrases, droned static, a passing armada's transmissions, the quick interference of a flock of birds. It is truly difficult for me to give words to the types of sounds Hecker manipulates deftly, but the source material is so altered and chopped to pieces it makes Fennesz seem like the Beach Boys (and perhaps that's what Fennesz would want, anyway). But instead of going the "simple" route and creating a sonic noise workout, as many of the digital aesthetes do, Hecker chooses to create quiet soundscapes of bright noise drones with hushed tones that approach traditional ambient in places. As an example, "The Star Compass" begins with angelic static, as strange as that sounds, and gradually decays leaving only a filtered tonal melody behind. This track seamlessly blends into "Azure Azure" which is a dronescape that would do Stars of the Lid proud--vast and rumbling. "Trade Winds, White Heat" is a post-techno melody with echoed synth tones reminiscent of a ship fading into the distance; a worthy and haunting finish to a great record.

Radio Amor is a hour of some of the most intoxicating and natural sounding digitalism you're likely to hear in today's glitched-out world. The track titles are written in an extremely telling way--occasionally a word in a title is struck through; sometimes replaced with another word. This has some parallel in the music within; original intentions are often edited, but the detritus of the original composition often remains. This is an album that begs multiple listens to fully grasp the sonic ingenuity and fascinating level of detail within. Hecker is a gifted composer, rising above genre means to create a music that fully absorbs the method to produce a sterling example of what pure modern computer music can be. Radio Amor is a triumph; one that will appeal to ambient and experimental music fans alike. Undoubtedly, Hecker's work will be considered a classic of a difficult to pin down genre.

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ARC/AIDAN BAKER

Repercussion

Piehead Records (2002)

When I was a kid, my family and I would go swimming in the summertime--not in a pool, but in a man-made lake. It was a large lake, and fairly deep in the middle (at least from a child's perspective). One of the most memorable aspects of swimming in a lake, though this effect is also present in pools, is the temperature shifts one experiences while swimming. A patch might be extremely cold in one area, and yet pleasantly warm a foot or so above or below. This made swimming something of a surprising experience--you never knew what the temperature would be like ahead; you were forced to enjoy each experience as it came.

It is in this spirit of constant exploration and surprise that I review the limited edition release of Repercussion by ARC/Aidan Baker. Repercussion is a live document of a performance by ARC, with additional material added later by Baker (who is a member of ARC). While live recordings of ambient and experimental music are usually not quite my cup of tea, I can say with certainty that I would not have known this was culled largely from a live performance unless I was told in advance. The sound is clear and well balanced, equal to many "at home" recordings I've heard in the genre.

The opening track "Transform" begins with muted percussion in a tribal vein--this gradually melds with guitar and other chiming sonics, signaling the beginning of a strange ritual. The feeling here is that of Popol Vuh's seminal In den Gärten Pharaos, with its furious, though muted, percussive elements intertwined with backing ambience. An ancient feeling pervades, somehow ominous yet inviting. We are in a colder section of the lake during this section, a section that gives way to the warmth of the later minutes of the track--waxing and waning guitar ambience that overtakes the chaotic percussion. The final moments of the track still maintain the Popol Vuh power, but channeled more directly with ambient guitar and tablas joining in a satisfying harmony. Track two, "Arise," is a harmonic guitarscape, warm and somehow reminiscent of Danny Fischelscher. It is beginning to seem as if Popol Vuh's early albums are actually the mythical starting point for all music; if this myth is so, ARC have made a conscious decision to recreate the ancient music of Popol Vuh brought forth into the twenty-first century. The effect is like floating on a lake mirroring the deep blue; this warm area lasts seemingly forever. Track three, "Writhe," brings the percussion back, but this time with a trance background that sounds like an analog synth texture (though it clearly is not). This track has a distinctly improvisational tone to it--including some interesting tape loops, perhaps done on the fly--these are intuitive musicians, however, and the sonics never meander. A cold patch of the lake surprises, as "Writhe" takes a highly experimental sideroad, all jagged textures and frenzied percussion. The strange cacophony continues, the ambient analog to shredding it up. The end of the track descends to deeper into the lake, echoes of previous coldness but somehow more comfortable. Finally, "Slight Return/Raze" is a mammoth twenty minute track, somehow more lo-fi sounding than previous cuts on Repercussion. Jangling sounds, tablas, and reversed tape noises remind the listener that this release is not done by newage aficionados--a casually nightmarish landscape, perhaps with more bark than actual bite (I am a notorious sissy when it comes to darker ambient works). Cymbals and low vocalization enter the fray, along with an almost Roy Montgomery-sounding guitar, somewhere between dark and light. The track quiets, the tapes now sounding like chirruping crickets, accompanied by Baker's terrific guitar playing. Creaking sonic manipulations remind me of Mandible Chatter--always a nice feeling--we are deep in the lake now, and it's cold down here, very cold. There's a sax down here too, and the player isn't sure how it works--but it works, if you know what I mean. I'd imagine this is the "Raze" portion of the track, because any warm water we might have been swimming in before has surely turned to steam; wafting away and probably not coming back. It gets downright spooky towards the end, but the satisfying finish (which sounds like a mellotron, oddly enough) lets us know that we are not drowning in the lake, but merely here for recreation. The juxtaposition of spooky leading into starkly beautiful (the later portion almost sounds like early Tangerine Dream or Fripp & Eno's Evening Star) is masterful. The fire has clearly led to a rebirth, and the rest of the track is like a gorgeous dream you won't want to wake up from.

Repercussion is a damn fine recording--one that surely deserves a larger audience than the 311 copies printed will permit. While Piehead records should be given great credit for bringing this work to light (I'd never heard Baker or ARC prior to this release), it seems a crime to limit the audience to such a small number. I'm positive all who hear this (and who have the prerequisite interest in ambient music from the likes of VidnaObmana, Robert Rich, etc) will absolutely love it. It's surprisingly varied, and always somehow lovely, just like the lake I swam in as a child. My only regret is the cover artwork, a picture of apple pie (in keeping with Piehead's theme that year). The music within deserves a visual context on the record cover, in my opinion. But it's a small quibble--and who doesn't love pie, anyway? I highly recommend Repercussion; and you can be sure I'll be on the lookout for more ARC work in the future.

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DOLMEN

Ritual Awakening

Skean Dhu (2002)

Tribal ambient is a hard thing to do. With tribal ambient, the artist necessarily toes the line between a "true" ethnic tribal music, and a modern society's watered-down vision of what tribal music should sound like. There are some listeners who consider tribal ambient a little too close to new age, as if the presence of shakers and visceral percussion somehow cheapens the electronic atmospheres. I've always felt this sweeping judgment of the tribal sub-genre to be an unfair and uninformed opinion, because tribal--when done right--can be some of the most psychoactive and vibrant forms of atmospheric ambient music created. A subtle distinction should be made, however. In my experience, tribal can go one of the two paths I described above. You can have a "coffee-colored" (as Jon Hassell described) type of tribal music that contains inflections of antiquated musical forms, but is mostly infused with a modern "lighter" sensibility. An example of this is certainly Steve Roach's Dreamtime Return, which contains that balance of neo-tribalism juxtaposed with a modern synth-spirituality. The other type of tribal is dark, and frighteningly exotic. It bespeaks a troubled undercurrent--there are powers at work beyond modern minds' comprehension. The tribal-mind is connected to otherworldly things that have been lost to the modern psyche--the utmost expression of ancient spirituality can seem a terrible, bright, and uncaring god.

This brings me to Dolmen, whose Ritual Awakening is the work of two artists, Steven K. Smith and Jason Sloan. Impossibly, Ritual Awakening attempts to inhabit both sides of the tribal coin. It's an album rife with tension and mystery, though it still remains modern and relevant when taken with recent forays into dark atmospheric synthwork (by way of Zoviet France)--and it thankfully lacks the preciousness of many world-music inspired ambient efforts. To some degree, we find Dolmen exploring the idea of music created by a non-existent culture. To other degrees we find Dolmen constrained within walls of roaring synth ambience and meandering synthetic textures--as if the artists are reticent to completely give way to a fully tribal resonance. When Dolmen get the balance between these two aspects right, as on the track "Ritual Awakening," the results are quite sublime--a distinctive mixture of strange foreign chanting, harrowing synth ambience, and percussive textures. Often, however, the effect is somehow lessened by the overwhelming synth walls, which often descend into a sonic morass, as with the album's opener "In the Heat."

The overall feeling of Ritual Awakening is that of being present during a strange and exotic ceremony, but not, as might be assumed, as a participant. One feels that he has been drugged by the natives, placed in the center of their temple, and is fluctuating between hazy awareness and complete sensory overload. This involvement in the "ritual," for me, is somehow muted by this effect--creating a casual observance of events, but with no lasting visceral experience. This is not to say that Ritual Awakening is without pleasures. "White Mornings" is a resonant track with deep vocalizations and haunting synth breaths; a satisfying mixture of dark and light. The album closer "Efland::Cuairteach" is also stunning, dwelling in more translucent territories. A processed whistle gradually gives way to Mathias Grassow-styled synth drones, which are very well done.

At Ritual Awakening's end, we come to something of a Pyrrhic victory. It seems that in trying to instill Ritual with a vast amount of mystery and nuance, Sloan and Smith have somehow drowned out much of the flavor that was intended in the first place. Too many spices are added to the stew, which then summarily cancel each other out. It's as if by treading the line between the two aspects of tribalism, Dolmen are unable to submit to either muse. The result is an often fascinating, but just as often confounding, sonic experience. There is often simply too much going on at once, as if Dolmen could not concentrate their ideas effectively enough to get their intent across. What results is an album that is too broad for its scope, consequently missing the mark more often than it hits. Ritual Awakening is a promising start for this duo, however, and it remains to be seen if Dolmen can more effectively channel their forces for their next effort.

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ROBERT SCOTT THOMPSON

Sidereal

Space for Music (2002)

Robert Scott Thompson is an electro-acoustic composer who has labored in obscurity for years--releasing a large number of works in a surprising number of genres. Two Thompson releases, The Silent Shore and Frontier, gave his music wider distribution and opened his talent up to a larger group of ambient aficionados. The two discs were fabulously diverse displays of ambience, dark and light. To my mind, The Silent Shore is one of the finest ambient releases of the 1990s, and Frontier was a more than worthy follow-up. Thompson's music is extremely cerebral and academic, fitting into genre definitions quite tenuously. The totality of his work may not be to a particular listener's tastes every time, but one can always be sure Thompson is treading new territories, experimenting with sound, continuously moving forward.

Sidereal, the latest in a string of pure ambient recordings, is Thompson's paean to the infinity of space. Certainly dozens of ambient recordings have functioned in this way prior to Sidereal, but I feel that Thompson's work is a unique take on what some would call a tired theme. A look at the cover confirms this thought--eschewing the typical ambiguous spacescape in favor of a collage of fascinating images very much in the style of Bill Nelson's record covers. Here is another parallel I find: Thompson and Nelson seem to operate in the same level of iconoclastic creation. Nonetheless, Thompson brings his very original style to a well-worn set of pre-conceived imagery--and succeeds marvelously in creating a very diverse sixty minutes of interstellar ambience.

Sidereal is the sort of recording that represents something different to every listener. While other Thompson recordings welcomed the listener to adjust the song order to suit a particular mood, Sidereal is a single track--it's clear we are on a guided journey through a remarkable number of shades, tones, and moods. There is an underlining drone beneath all of the incidental sounds that fill Sidereal; we must never forget that we are constantly navigating through space, whether we have achieved planetfall or are drifting aimlessly through the ether. The journey begins with dissonant tones and ghostly sonics. Appropriately, our maiden flight is fraught with anxiety--space is large, and not for sissies--the awesome infinity is going to take some getting used to. Quietly, reverbed piano notes appear--the initial shock of space has passed, and we have made an uneasy peace with it. The drone beneath does not falter (nor does it ever), but it does take a backseat to morphed female vocals. Perhaps we are picking up distorted transmissions from a nearby planet; regardless it is difficult to establish whether we have interpreted this vocal as something familiar to comfort us during the absolute alien-ness of our surroundings. It is at this time that Sidereal begins to take on the quality of Eno's more translucent works; Thursday Afternoon, for example. Light, ethereal, airy. These more overtly "musical" interludes are broken up by blank space drifts. We are on an interstellar flitter, passing planets and stars, some floating chunks of debris, some inhabited by unknown races with indescribable architecture.

The journey becomes more and more resonant as we continue forward, deeper. Pretty tones and inexplicable noises conjoin to make space as alien as described, but somehow familiar in its exoticism. Part of the power of Sidereal is its attention to minute details, which flow consistently throughout the recording. There is never repetition; space is quiet, vast, and all-consuming. Around the twenty-minute mark, we are treated to a deep space melody. Somehow we have morphed into unearthed creatures of blackness; space is becoming familiar in its unfamiliarity, we are evolving, learning to thrive on the mutability of the heavens around. At the thirty-five minute mark, we have been transported to some pastoral world--all strummed guitar, spacious piano, blonde eloi inhabitants, picnic summers as a brief repast from the infinity that is sure to welcome us back soon enough. This passage reminds me of the gentle melodies of Forgotten Places, the fine collaboration with Ambient Review favorite James Johnson. As we lie back on green grass with glass of alien wine, the distinct hum of the universe continues to thrall us beneath the glow of this planet's atmosphere. The hum insinuates itself more and more, eventually dragging us back to infinity. This is my personal favorite portion of the recording, especially in the context of such a vast and dramatic journey.

I'll only detract from the massive power and nuance of Sidereal by continuing my travelogue. There is a warm and nostalgic glow to the disc, rather like reading science fiction from the Golden Age, for me. Space, in all its terrors and wonders is open to the listener here. It isn't always a comforting journey, but it is always a rewarding one. This is one of the finest "space music" works I've ever had the pleasure to explore. And it truly is an exploration, as new "sights," nuances, textures, reveal themselves with each listen. While many Thompson recordings have missed the mark with me, this is truly a landmark recording for ambient fans. Never has space been treated with such an even and practiced flair for drama and emotion juxtaposed with the inexplicable and unfathomable. This is a breathtaking trip, which rewards the listener equipped with headphones. And, knowing Thompson's academic background, I've a feeling there's all sorts of "academic stuff" going on here that I'm completely (and blissfully) unaware of. Whatever the disposition, Thompson's Sidereal makes an essential contribution to the curious language of space music. While I have no access to any future history in our very earthed world, I would not be surprised if this became a completely justified ambient classic. Simply breathtaking. 

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JASON SLOAN

Still

Slo Bor Media (2003)

I'd not previously heard any ambient work by musician/multimedia artist Jason Sloan, but internet buzz about his newest work Still was too strong to resist. This, the second release on the newly formed Slo Bor Media label, continues the strong emphasis on design juxtaposed with opaque and translucent ambient music styles.

Like the previous Slo Bor Media various artists compilation Texture, Still is packaged in a luscious digipak reminiscent of Vaughn Oliver's packaging on a myriad of 4AD releases. In my mind, types of modern ambient music seem to be the next logical step from what was the signature sound of 4AD acts like the Cocteau Twins. This ambient undercurrent beneath much post-punk and art rock music has assuredly inspired today's newer ambient artists as readily as any Eno or Schulze LP from the seventies. Either way, the artistic connection is a pleasant one, proof, perhaps, that ambient will always expand and include what has preceded it inspirationally.

Still contains five long tracks of stately ambience, in a style that will appeal to both fans of darker and lighter styles of atmospheric music. The opening "breaths" of the first track, "The Color of Wind" remind me of no less than the work of VidnaObmana--most specifically his breathing synthesizer period of such melancholy classics as Shadowing in Sorrow or the soft beauty of River of Appearance. We are transported to a sepia-toned landscape, a landscape that can just as readily bring back feelings of loss and disconnection as it can the feelings of unbearable beauty in natural landscapes or honey-colored relationships relegated to the distant past. This is strong stuff, with an inexplicable emotional content that belies the "ambient" nature of the music. Track two, "Breath of White Autumn," discards the breathing synth of the first track in favor of rising and falling washes of spine-tingling sound. This has been a recent favorite for me to sleep by, as the washes wax and wane--intermingling with consciousness, lulling the listener into a state somewhere between wakefulness and slumber. There is an immediacy to the sonic landscape here, as if something truly monumental is about to happen. The swells of ambience trigger a reaction in the listener as he or she gradually grasps the album concept (as outlined in the liner notes)--that of the period before transcendence, when all seems possible yet remains uncertain. Sixteen minutes of pure bliss.

Track three, "Bleedwhitehorizon," is a bright, washed-out vista. Deep tones have replaced the swells of the previous track, creating a zen-like stillness within constant sonic shifting--similar to the effects on Thom Brennan's recent Satori CD. There is a "symphonic" undercurrent here, and the music builds gradually over nearly twenty luminous minutes. "The Color of Wind II" brings us back to VidnaObmana territory, but in a more understated way, as if the colors of track one have been washed out and muted. Once again, the delightful melancholia takes hold; this is not a feeling that drains the listener, but is more of a healthy catharsis, where memory is placed in context and eventual acceptance is harbored. The low bass tones of this track are quite affecting, lending a grounded effect to the sweetly sad harmonics. The final track, "Losing Winter" is a stark, brief (compared to the previous tracks), and fabulous ending to Still. Sea crashes, gull squall, treated piano, and harmonic synth combine to bring us back to a more earthed ambience, similar to Eno's On Land. This is a perfect capstone to an excellent collection of floating ambience, bringing the listener back to his or her own body after a marvelous journey of sensate delights.

Still ends, leaving an emptiness--it's as if the sonic space of the recording enriched the surrounding environment so strongly that it detracts from it when the music ends. Rather than occupy this negative space without Still, I chose to replay and fill the room again. Such is the pleasure of the very finest of ambient recordings--you wonder how your living spaces ever existed without them. This is the type of recording tailored to an entire afternoon of non-stop play. Still is a finely textured, well-sequenced collection of emotional ambience. Each track is subtly different, yet complementary to each of the others, creating a totality of sonic experience that rivals the classics of the genre, past and present. I can unreservedly say that this is one of the finest ambient releases of the year, (unquestionably outshining past masters' recent contributions to the genre) in its powerful melange of resonant textures and emotional sonorities. Bravo!

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TELOMERE

Zoetosis

Evenfall (2001)

Somewhere along the line, space became unfriendly. Michael Moorcock wrote in his novel The Black Corridor, "space does not care" and it seems that many of today's ambient and space music artists have taken this phrase to mean that space should be infinite blackness and cold isolation. I'm not in a position to argue, especially when "black space" ambient can be some of the most potent drift around (Celestial Geometries by Oöphoi and Tau Ceti comes immediately to mind). With all this uncaring space around, arguably the most realistic interpretation of space travel, it becomes all the more refreshing when an artist comes along and creates space music in its classic, positive, bright aspect--all fantasy travels with none of the sugary sweetness of new age music.

It is in the spirit of classic space music, planetarium music, music for interstellar journeys, that I come to Telomere's second album Zoetosis. This is an album in the grand tradition of Michael Stearns' Planetary Unfolding and Jon Serrie's And the Stars Go With You. Zoetosis is an overwhelmingly positive sounding record, the kind of swelling music you feel in your heart when you imagine space as a place man was meant to commune with via exploration and discovery. This is not the sound of a dark Michael Moorcock novel, but of Arthur C. Clarke's proud forward movement to man's destiny amidst the infinite universe.

Zoetosis depicts Earth's surface from orbit on its cover, and this is an entirely apt description of the album's contents. From the opening sounds of track one, "Awakening," we begin with that greatest of metaphors--the comparison of the sea to space. Washes of the tide mix with deep synth washes (most of this music is created on the Serge Modular, making another notable Stearns connection); eventually some dramatic low-toned sequencing enters the fray and we suddenly liftoff on breathtaking synthwork as we shoot right out of the atmosphere into orbit. This track descends gradually back into tidal movement, and bleeds directly into "Microcosmos"--an entrancing, nearly psychedelic, rising and falling of synth tones. Here is where the Michael Stearns comparisons break down. While Stearns' early work with the Serge seemed to be more interested in showing off its capabilities, the work of Telomere has fully digested the instrument's use and is content to create powerful music with understated virtuosity. "Idiochrome" continues the beautiful synth washes of the preceding track, but also serves to remind us that though the Serge is by no means a new artifice for creating music, it is still capable of portraying the timeless. "Ancient Uplift" (a fantastic title) finds us gazing at a completely alien artifact, chattering to itself electronically--this thing is incomprehensible, but by looking at it we are somehow pushed forward into an ancient future where mariners sail the spaceways instead of the sea. "Evocation" is just that--slowly building an evocative orbital journey, at once in motion and motionless. "Dawnlight" contains a breathtaking theme, as if a paean to astronomy by starry-eyed, scholars--the equivalent to a planetary love song. Finally, "First Forest" brings us back to the beginnings of Earth, when nature was still somehow connected to the celestial--before humans could create an imaginary barrier between the ground beneath and the stars above. With this track, the atmosphere is no longer a barrier, but a transitional movement into infinity.

Zoetosis is a flawless record. It manages to portray the awesome majesty of the heavens (and Earth) without resorting to needless dramatic flourishes or strained mysticism. While rooted in classic space music of past decades, Zoetosis is fresh, perfectly produced, entrancing. You will not find a better space music record, bar none. Somehow, Christopher MacDonald (the man behind Telomere) has distilled the essence of space travel and the distinct feeling of the otherworldly inherent in the cosmos. If I could similarly distill this review to one word, it would assuredly be: breathtaking. I give this my highest recommendation--truly Zoetosis is a testament to the power of space music and its ability to transport listeners simply by hitting the play button.

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