TAK:TIL/GLITTERBEAT - Forced Exposure

$15.50 IN STOCK

Following her thrilling 2022 duo EP with Iggy Pop (The Dictator) Belgian composer/musician Catherine Graindorge returns with a luminous ensemble album. Instrumental and vocal songs of life, love and death. Inspired by mythologies and elegies from the Greeks to the Beats. Over the years, Catherine Graindorge has worked with an incredible cast of collaborators, including Iggy Pop, Nick Cave, Hugo Race, and producer John Parish (PJ Harvey). But for Songs for the Dead she wanted a small, tight ensemble, so she called on regular collaborators Simon Ho on keyboards, and bassist Pascal Humbert (16 Horsepower, Lilium, Détroit) who both know her and her music well. Best known as the vocalist with And Also the Trees, Jones's voice gives the lines gravity, a delivery between singing and speaking. "I recorded demos of the music I'd written and sent them to him," Graindorge recalls, "then he returned them with his ideas for the words. He understood what I was looking for." Things coalesced quickly, and by the time they went into the studio "almost everything was written, so we didn't need to discuss much. We took six days to record the album, then another five to complete the mixing." All the mixing was analogue, Graindorge explains because "it's warmer, and it makes more sense to me with my instruments and the way I write, acoustically on violin and viola. More like baroque music, in a way." Songs for the Dead is quite deliberately an album that gives space for the imagination, "where people can come and go in the music," Graindorge says. And there's plenty to explore in the stories of Orpheus and Eurydice and Ginsberg's dream meeting with Joan Burroughs. Myths ancient and modern. Legends and stories. "I like to tell a story," she says. "I come from theatre, and I'm also an actor. These are narratives, questions and answers that relate and connect to each other."

$28.00 IN STOCK

LP version. Following her thrilling 2022 duo EP with Iggy Pop (The Dictator) Belgian composer/musician Catherine Graindorge returns with a luminous ensemble album. Instrumental and vocal songs of life, love and death. Inspired by mythologies and elegies from the Greeks to the Beats. Over the years, Catherine Graindorge has worked with an incredible cast of collaborators, including Iggy Pop, Nick Cave, Hugo Race, and producer John Parish (PJ Harvey). But for Songs for the Dead she wanted a small, tight ensemble, so she called on regular collaborators Simon Ho on keyboards, and bassist Pascal Humbert (16 Horsepower, Lilium, Détroit) who both know her and her music well. Best known as the vocalist with And Also the Trees, Jones's voice gives the lines gravity, a delivery between singing and speaking. "I recorded demos of the music I'd written and sent them to him," Graindorge recalls, "then he returned them with his ideas for the words. He understood what I was looking for." Things coalesced quickly, and by the time they went into the studio "almost everything was written, so we didn't need to discuss much. We took six days to record the album, then another five to complete the mixing." All the mixing was analogue, Graindorge explains because "it's warmer, and it makes more sense to me with my instruments and the way I write, acoustically on violin and viola. More like baroque music, in a way." Songs for the Dead is quite deliberately an album that gives space for the imagination, "where people can come and go in the music," Graindorge says. And there's plenty to explore in the stories of Orpheus and Eurydice and Ginsberg's dream meeting with Joan Burroughs. Myths ancient and modern. Legends and stories. "I like to tell a story," she says. "I come from theatre, and I'm also an actor. These are narratives, questions and answers that relate and connect to each other."

$15.50 IN STOCK

Scottish smallpipes player Brìghde Chaimbeul is a leading purveyor of experimental Celtic music. Her piping has earned her a BBC Young Folk Award and a BBC Horizon Award. Her second album Carry Them With Us is an exhilarating weave of rich textural drones, trance atmospheres and instrumental folk traditions. Acclaimed Canadian sound explorer and saxophonist Colin Stetson is a featured collaborator on the record. Stories can be told in music as well as words, and on her second album, Carry Them With Us, Brìghde Chaimbeul reveals hers. From her heart, from the Scottish tradition that formed her. And every one of them weaves its spell, as a good story should. The Scottish smallpipes, with their double-note drones, were in danger of falling into obscurity before Brìghde (pronounced Bree-chuh) Chaimbeul, a native Gaelic speaker from the Isle of Skye, became part of their more recent revival. Carry Them With Us is undoubtedly Chaimbeul's vision, but collaborator Colin Stetson, an experimental saxophonist and film composer probably best known for his work with Arcade Fire, helped her realize it. They seem to inhabit the same space, breathe the same air. Often, it's hard to tell where one instrument ends and the other begins - as she notes, "his style and breathing fit with the pipes." It's hypnotic, alive -- listen to "Tha Fonn Gun Bhi Trom: I Am Disposed of Mirth," where the music sometimes seems to suddenly bubble and flutter into the air. With the constancy of the drone as their foundation, and small changes to the melodies as they progressed, the music becomes immersive as Chaimbeul and Stetson weave over and around each other. Together, they created an album of stories. Some, like "Crònan (i)" came spontaneously as the pair played in the studio. Others, "Pilliù: The Call of the Redshank" and "Pìobaireachd Nan Eun: The Birds," grew from traditional pieces. Old things, stories, birdsong, are part of the tradition that surrounded Chaimbeul as she grew up. Chaimbeul tells them with a voice that's completely her own. Her singing at the close of "Bonn Beinn Eadarra: The Haunting," arrives like a ghost, its spectral feel lingering long after the track is over. On "Banish the Giant of Doubt And Despair," her playing brings the tale alive, as the daughter of the king of the land under the waves sings a tune before her wedding, and then when a giant, marauding the Western Isles, hears her. Enraptured, he cannot stop dancing, he ends up in the Atlantic, to the island of Hiort, where he topples over and drowns. It's storytelling in music, the past given new colors.

$28.00 IN STOCK

LP version. Scottish smallpipes player Brìghde Chaimbeul is a leading purveyor of experimental Celtic music. Her piping has earned her a BBC Young Folk Award and a BBC Horizon Award. Her second album Carry Them With Us is an exhilarating weave of rich textural drones, trance atmospheres and instrumental folk traditions. Acclaimed Canadian sound explorer and saxophonist Colin Stetson is a featured collaborator on the record. Stories can be told in music as well as words, and on her second album, Carry Them With Us, Brìghde Chaimbeul reveals hers. From her heart, from the Scottish tradition that formed her. And every one of them weaves its spell, as a good story should. The Scottish smallpipes, with their double-note drones, were in danger of falling into obscurity before Brìghde (pronounced Bree-chuh) Chaimbeul, a native Gaelic speaker from the Isle of Skye, became part of their more recent revival. Carry Them With Us is undoubtedly Chaimbeul's vision, but collaborator Colin Stetson, an experimental saxophonist and film composer probably best known for his work with Arcade Fire, helped her realize it. They seem to inhabit the same space, breathe the same air. Often, it's hard to tell where one instrument ends and the other begins - as she notes, "his style and breathing fit with the pipes." It's hypnotic, alive -- listen to "Tha Fonn Gun Bhi Trom: I Am Disposed of Mirth," where the music sometimes seems to suddenly bubble and flutter into the air. With the constancy of the drone as their foundation, and small changes to the melodies as they progressed, the music becomes immersive as Chaimbeul and Stetson weave over and around each other. Together, they created an album of stories. Some, like "Crònan (i)" came spontaneously as the pair played in the studio. Others, "Pilliù: The Call of the Redshank" and "Pìobaireachd Nan Eun: The Birds," grew from traditional pieces. Old things, stories, birdsong, are part of the tradition that surrounded Chaimbeul as she grew up. Chaimbeul tells them with a voice that's completely her own. Her singing at the close of "Bonn Beinn Eadarra: The Haunting," arrives like a ghost, its spectral feel lingering long after the track is over. On "Banish the Giant of Doubt And Despair," her playing brings the tale alive, as the daughter of the king of the land under the waves sings a tune before her wedding, and then when a giant, marauding the Western Isles, hears her. Enraptured, he cannot stop dancing, he ends up in the Atlantic, to the island of Hiort, where he topples over and drowns. It's storytelling in music, the past given new colors.

$24.00 IN STOCK

LP version. Acclaimed producer (Rosalia, Lina_Raul Refree) and in-demand collaborator (Lee Ranaldo, Richard Youngs) Raul Refree returns with his second solo album for tak:til/glitterbeat. A kaleidoscopic but seamless mashup of soundtrack music, post-classical meditations, Iberian traditional elements and experimental strategies. The title, El Espacio Entre (The Space Between), alludes to its spatial, temporal, and conceptual in betweenness. The concept for the album emerged from his soundtrack for the restored early Spanish cinema masterpiece The Cursed Village (Florián Rey, 1930). Refree adheres to total creative freedom. Some pieces like "Lamentos De Un Rescate" and "La Plage" represent his first attempt at re-composition. Refree took Monteverdi's madrigal "Lamento Della Ninfa" and personally directed the performance. El Espacio Entre is a unified whole without centerpieces. Each piece functions like a specific image or disposition translated into sound. The short evocative song titles provide interesting interpretative angles. They capture the introspective nature of Refree's musical expression, which is not preoccupied with epic arrangements or grand musical ideas. Refree's approach to improvisation, composition, and production resonates with the tenets of imagist poetry. The piano sequence in "Las Migraciones Nocturnas" is unedited. It's not played on a click. The short and sweet "Lamentos De Un Día Cualquiera," a modern reimagining of baroque vocals accompanied by a processed viola da gamba and lute, beautifully captures his philosophy. Certain elements simply must be included, though, like the evanescent trumpet line in "La Plage." Recomposed madrigals coexist with hectic piano explorations ("Montañas Vacías," "Montañas Vacías II"). "La Radio En La Cocina," a pensive dialogue between lute, radio static, piano, and marimba, gradually mutates into a post-rock crescendo. The immersive piece for prepared piano "Todo El Mundo Quiere Irse Ya" suddenly transitions into the The Durutti Column-inspired guitar sketch "Casc I Pluja." It is the way he approaches rhythm, timbre, dynamics, and texture that imbues his music with a sense of intimacy. His guitar meditations ("Amanece Sin Que Nadie Lo Vea," "Lo Que Esconden") bring to mind the music of Raphael Rogiński. In "Las Migraciones Nocturnas," a Jon Brion-style soundtrack piece that disintegrates into agitated strings wailing, one can hear the echoes of his music for films. A similarly cinematic atmosphere is conjured in the composition "No Es Tan Fácil Aquí." Yet the most surprising moment on the record arises in the epilogue "Una Nueva Religión" in which a mellow organ motif unexpectedly intertwines with Darkthrone-inspired metal blast beats. El Espacio Entre is a sonic diary that may lead you to transformational events while riding the bus, train or plane, being in transit between one destination or another, the current and next version of you.

$15.50 IN STOCK

Acclaimed producer (Rosalia, Lina_Raul Refree) and in-demand collaborator (Lee Ranaldo, Richard Youngs) Raul Refree returns with his second solo album for tak:til/glitterbeat. A kaleidoscopic but seamless mashup of soundtrack music, post-classical meditations, Iberian traditional elements and experimental strategies. The title, El Espacio Entre (The Space Between), alludes to its spatial, temporal, and conceptual in betweenness. The concept for the album emerged from his soundtrack for the restored early Spanish cinema masterpiece The Cursed Village (Florián Rey, 1930). Refree adheres to total creative freedom. Some pieces like "Lamentos De Un Rescate" and "La Plage" represent his first attempt at re-composition. Refree took Monteverdi's madrigal "Lamento Della Ninfa" and personally directed the performance. El Espacio Entre is a unified whole without centerpieces. Each piece functions like a specific image or disposition translated into sound. The short evocative song titles provide interesting interpretative angles. They capture the introspective nature of Refree's musical expression, which is not preoccupied with epic arrangements or grand musical ideas. Refree's approach to improvisation, composition, and production resonates with the tenets of imagist poetry. The piano sequence in "Las Migraciones Nocturnas" is unedited. It's not played on a click. The short and sweet "Lamentos De Un Día Cualquiera," a modern reimagining of baroque vocals accompanied by a processed viola da gamba and lute, beautifully captures his philosophy. Certain elements simply must be included, though, like the evanescent trumpet line in "La Plage." Recomposed madrigals coexist with hectic piano explorations ("Montañas Vacías," "Montañas Vacías II"). "La Radio En La Cocina," a pensive dialogue between lute, radio static, piano, and marimba, gradually mutates into a post-rock crescendo. The immersive piece for prepared piano "Todo El Mundo Quiere Irse Ya" suddenly transitions into the The Durutti Column-inspired guitar sketch "Casc I Pluja." It is the way he approaches rhythm, timbre, dynamics, and texture that imbues his music with a sense of intimacy. His guitar meditations ("Amanece Sin Que Nadie Lo Vea," "Lo Que Esconden") bring to mind the music of Raphael Rogiński. In "Las Migraciones Nocturnas," a Jon Brion-style soundtrack piece that disintegrates into agitated strings wailing, one can hear the echoes of his music for films. A similarly cinematic atmosphere is conjured in the composition "No Es Tan Fácil Aquí." Yet the most surprising moment on the record arises in the epilogue "Una Nueva Religión" in which a mellow organ motif unexpectedly intertwines with Darkthrone-inspired metal blast beats. El Espacio Entre is a sonic diary that may lead you to transformational events while riding the bus, train or plane, being in transit between one destination or another, the current and next version of you.

$24.00 IN STOCK

LP version. Etceteral are a Slovenian experimental trio (saxophone and electronics, drums, visuals) who create a propulsive, polyrhythmic futurist jazz. It is a sound marked by abstract modular explorations, hypnotic drumming, ricocheted horn textures and crystalline production. Interzones between dub, krautrock, Afro-rhythms, free improvisation and quantized electronic music are brightly lit on this thrilling second album. The idea of musical elasticity is central to Rhizome, the sophomore album of the Slovenian audio-visual electronic jazz trio Etceteral who debuted in 2020 with the album Ama Gi for Kapa Records. Following a series of domestic and international gigs, the band consisting of Bostjan Simon (saxophone, synth, electronics), Marek Fakuč (drums), and Lina Rica (visuals) returned to the studio, taking their ambition to meld audio and visuals to a whole new level on their debut for the tak:til imprint. On Rhizome, the band explores the interzone between groove-driven contemporary jazz, quantized electronic music, abstract modular explorations and free improvisation. Like rubber that is able to stretch and be returned to its original shape, Etceteral expands its arrangements to the point of no return, pushing its sonic architecture to the maximum without ever letting it collapse onto itself. Given carte blanche to self-produce their second album, they centered it around the concept of rhizome -- a continuously growing horizontal underground stem which puts out lateral shoots and adventitious roots at intervals. The sophisticated songs of Rhizome are interconnected in their structures, growing from the inside out. With its interlocking synth sequence, saxophone ornaments and hip-shaking syncopations, the opening earworm "Meadow Sage" sets the pace of the record, boasting an ambitious and adventurous sonic character. New songs took shape organically through jams, the only exceptions being the intermezzo "Ton 618," a nod to exploratory modular techno, and the IDM-inspired coda "Idler Idol," both arranged as links between adjacent songs. The interplay between synth sequences, the kick drum, and saxophone represents the foundation of Etceteral's sonic realm. Their sound palette consists of the iconic synth Dave Smith Evolver, a saxophone with a MIDI controller, sound effects, and drums. In Pygmy traditions, one of the band's reference points, every singer or musician follows a single theme or rhythm which is then unified into polyphony or polyrhythmic patterns. Etceteral build their sonic architecture from inside out, never fully defining the outlines of their songs. Even though their sequences are quantized, Fakuč only rarely uses click tracks, rather opting for a more instinctive approach to electroacoustic fusionism, which results in a spontaneous flow and jazzy vibe.

$15.50 IN STOCK

Etceteral are a Slovenian experimental trio (saxophone and electronics, drums, visuals) who create a propulsive, polyrhythmic futurist jazz. It is a sound marked by abstract modular explorations, hypnotic drumming, ricocheted horn textures and crystalline production. Interzones between dub, krautrock, Afro-rhythms, free improvisation and quantized electronic music are brightly lit on this thrilling second album. The idea of musical elasticity is central to Rhizome, the sophomore album of the Slovenian audio-visual electronic jazz trio Etceteral who debuted in 2020 with the album Ama Gi for Kapa Records. Following a series of domestic and international gigs, the band consisting of Bostjan Simon (saxophone, synth, electronics), Marek Fakuč (drums), and Lina Rica (visuals) returned to the studio, taking their ambition to meld audio and visuals to a whole new level on their debut for the tak:til imprint. On Rhizome, the band explores the interzone between groove-driven contemporary jazz, quantized electronic music, abstract modular explorations and free improvisation. Like rubber that is able to stretch and be returned to its original shape, Etceteral expands its arrangements to the point of no return, pushing its sonic architecture to the maximum without ever letting it collapse onto itself. Given carte blanche to self-produce their second album, they centered it around the concept of rhizome -- a continuously growing horizontal underground stem which puts out lateral shoots and adventitious roots at intervals. The sophisticated songs of Rhizome are interconnected in their structures, growing from the inside out. With its interlocking synth sequence, saxophone ornaments and hip-shaking syncopations, the opening earworm "Meadow Sage" sets the pace of the record, boasting an ambitious and adventurous sonic character. New songs took shape organically through jams, the only exceptions being the intermezzo "Ton 618," a nod to exploratory modular techno, and the IDM-inspired coda "Idler Idol," both arranged as links between adjacent songs. The interplay between synth sequences, the kick drum, and saxophone represents the foundation of Etceteral's sonic realm. Their sound palette consists of the iconic synth Dave Smith Evolver, a saxophone with a MIDI controller, sound effects, and drums. In Pygmy traditions, one of the band's reference points, every singer or musician follows a single theme or rhythm which is then unified into polyphony or polyrhythmic patterns. Etceteral build their sonic architecture from inside out, never fully defining the outlines of their songs. Even though their sequences are quantized, Fakuč only rarely uses click tracks, rather opting for a more instinctive approach to electroacoustic fusionism, which results in a spontaneous flow and jazzy vibe.

$38.50 IN STOCK

Double LP version. The Slovenian "imaginary folk" trio's most epic and transportive album yet. Powered by acoustic and often handmade instruments, these expansive compositions echo the borderless, collective spirit of groups like Don Cherry's Organic Music Society and Art Ensemble of Chicago. Drawing on this geography of contemplation and psychic energy, from a country previously swallowed up by Yugoslavia and before that, reaching back centuries, the Roman, Byzantine and Austro-Hungarian Empires, the Slovenian trio of Iztok Koren, Ana Kravanja and Samo Kutin conjure up an extended album of intuitive transcendence and reflection on the unique sounding The Liquified Throne of Simplicity. Finding a home once more with Glitterbeat Records' adventurous, experimental, mostly instrumental, platform tak:til, and following on from the debut I Can Be A Clay Snapper (GB 051CD/LP, 2017), and the equally acclaimed A Universe That Roasts Blossoms For A Horse (GB 079CD/LP, 2019), Sirom's fourth such inventive and illusionary album incorporates some aspects of the former whilst expanding the inventory of eclectic instruments and obscured sounds. For the first time the trio also ignore the time constraints of a standard vinyl record to fashion longer, more fully developed entrancing and hypnotizing peregrinations. This new, amended, approach results in 80 minutes of abstract and rustic folklore, dream-realism, explorative intensity and cathartic ritual. And within that array of realms there's evocations of Jon Hassell's Fourth World experiments, visions of Samarkand, the esoteric mysteries of Tibet, an unplugged faUSt, and pastoral hurdy-gurdy churned Medieval Europe. These off-the-beaten-track performances converge history and geography with untethered fantasies and ambiguous atmospheres; all of which are made even more so fantastical, and even symbolic, by both the poetic, allegorical fabled track titles and the softly surreal illustrative artwork by the small village-based painter Marko Jakse, whose signature magical, if solemn, characters and landscapes adorn the album's cover and inlay. Music, in part, as a therapy The Liquified Throne of Simplicity offers a portal to other musical, sonic worlds: an escape route out of the on-going pandemic and its demoralizing, mentally draining effects and the crisis it has sparked in Slovenia, with certain far right groups especially taking advantage to ramp up the discourse of nationalism. By instinct, and in parts by coincidence, Sirom once more entrance with their vague undulations and illusionary echoes of places, settings, time and escapism on another highly magical album.

$15.50 IN STOCK

The Slovenian "imaginary folk" trio's most epic and transportive album yet. Powered by acoustic and often handmade instruments, these expansive compositions echo the borderless, collective spirit of groups like Don Cherry's Organic Music Society and Art Ensemble of Chicago. Drawing on this geography of contemplation and psychic energy, from a country previously swallowed up by Yugoslavia and before that, reaching back centuries, the Roman, Byzantine and Austro-Hungarian Empires, the Slovenian trio of Iztok Koren, Ana Kravanja and Samo Kutin conjure up an extended album of intuitive transcendence and reflection on the unique sounding The Liquified Throne of Simplicity. Finding a home once more with Glitterbeat Records' adventurous, experimental, mostly instrumental, platform tak:til, and following on from the debut I Can Be A Clay Snapper (GB 051CD/LP, 2017), and the equally acclaimed A Universe That Roasts Blossoms For A Horse (GB 079CD/LP, 2019), Sirom's fourth such inventive and illusionary album incorporates some aspects of the former whilst expanding the inventory of eclectic instruments and obscured sounds. For the first time the trio also ignore the time constraints of a standard vinyl record to fashion longer, more fully developed entrancing and hypnotizing peregrinations. This new, amended, approach results in 80 minutes of abstract and rustic folklore, dream-realism, explorative intensity and cathartic ritual. And within that array of realms there's evocations of Jon Hassell's Fourth World experiments, visions of Samarkand, the esoteric mysteries of Tibet, an unplugged faUSt, and pastoral hurdy-gurdy churned Medieval Europe. These off-the-beaten-track performances converge history and geography with untethered fantasies and ambiguous atmospheres; all of which are made even more so fantastical, and even symbolic, by both the poetic, allegorical fabled track titles and the softly surreal illustrative artwork by the small village-based painter Marko Jakse, whose signature magical, if solemn, characters and landscapes adorn the album's cover and inlay. Music, in part, as a therapy The Liquified Throne of Simplicity offers a portal to other musical, sonic worlds: an escape route out of the on-going pandemic and its demoralizing, mentally draining effects and the crisis it has sparked in Slovenia, with certain far right groups especially taking advantage to ramp up the discourse of nationalism. By instinct, and in parts by coincidence, Sirom once more entrance with their vague undulations and illusionary echoes of places, settings, time and escapism on another highly magical album.

$24.00 IN STOCK

LP version. The luminous third album from the acclaimed Korean multi-instrumentalist and composer Park Jiha. The beauty of light is the inspiration for The Gleam. Park Jiha distills light into sound, from the first flicker of morning on the horizon in "At Dawn" all the way to the moment when full darkness falls again in "Nightfall Dancer", capturing the essence of it in notes and silence. The album had its origin with the piece "Temporary Inertia", which was created for a performance as "a meditative improvisation in a bunker designed by the architect Ando Tadao, where the ceiling had an open light way going across the room..." Like its predecessor, Philos (GB 077CD/LP), The Gleam is a completely solo work, all the music composed and played by Park Jiha on the piri, a type of oboe, the saenghwang, a mouth organ, the hammered dulcimer known as the yanggeum, and glockenspiel. There's a stark clarity to the sound, yet it's never spare or empty. There's a searching warmth to what she does. It's minimal without being minimalist, occasionally presenting itself with the formality of traditional Korean music that is her background, although she feels that the distance she's put between herself and that teaching is "really what made my music what it is now". At other times her playing is an improvisation that spirals free into the sky. It all comes together into a beautiful whole and it always flows with a natural rhythm. Like everything, it breathes. The music on The Gleam often surprises, as instruments take on different colors and shades. Nowhere is that more evident than on "Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans", a composition created as a live soundtrack for a movie of the same name, a silent black-and-white film. The effect of dividing the piri melody into two parts shimmers, and is both intimate and quietly flickering, like light itself. Across The Gleam, the music patiently shifts moods, from the soft serenity of "At Dawn" to the playful, sparkling dance that marks "A Day In..." as the rhythm carries it along. Nothing is rushed. Much of that sense is due to the way she composes. Working with textures and layers in a piece until it breathes, until it's ready. There was another, inevitable factor involved in the creation process of The Gleam: Covid-19. The global pandemic meant that the performance of "Temporary Inertia" was pushed back until Oct. 2020. The music had already been gestating for a while, with some pieces written a couple of years earlier, but the long break offered her more chance to slowly shape the album.

$15.50 IN STOCK

The luminous third album from the acclaimed Korean multi-instrumentalist and composer Park Jiha. The beauty of light is the inspiration for The Gleam. Park Jiha distills light into sound, from the first flicker of morning on the horizon in "At Dawn" all the way to the moment when full darkness falls again in "Nightfall Dancer", capturing the essence of it in notes and silence. The album had its origin with the piece "Temporary Inertia", which was created for a performance as "a meditative improvisation in a bunker designed by the architect Ando Tadao, where the ceiling had an open light way going across the room..." Like its predecessor, Philos (GB 077CD/LP), The Gleam is a completely solo work, all the music composed and played by Park Jiha on the piri, a type of oboe, the saenghwang, a mouth organ, the hammered dulcimer known as the yanggeum, and glockenspiel. There's a stark clarity to the sound, yet it's never spare or empty. There's a searching warmth to what she does. It's minimal without being minimalist, occasionally presenting itself with the formality of traditional Korean music that is her background, although she feels that the distance she's put between herself and that teaching is "really what made my music what it is now". At other times her playing is an improvisation that spirals free into the sky. It all comes together into a beautiful whole and it always flows with a natural rhythm. Like everything, it breathes. The music on The Gleam often surprises, as instruments take on different colors and shades. Nowhere is that more evident than on "Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans", a composition created as a live soundtrack for a movie of the same name, a silent black-and-white film. The effect of dividing the piri melody into two parts shimmers, and is both intimate and quietly flickering, like light itself. Across The Gleam, the music patiently shifts moods, from the soft serenity of "At Dawn" to the playful, sparkling dance that marks "A Day In..." as the rhythm carries it along. Nothing is rushed. Much of that sense is due to the way she composes. Working with textures and layers in a piece until it breathes, until it's ready. There was another, inevitable factor involved in the creation process of The Gleam: Covid-19. The global pandemic meant that the performance of "Temporary Inertia" was pushed back until Oct. 2020. The music had already been gestating for a while, with some pieces written a couple of years earlier, but the long break offered her more chance to slowly shape the album.

$15.50 IN STOCK

Catherine Graindorge is a Belgian violinist, violist and composer. Produced by John Parish (PJ Harvey, Rokia Traoré), Eldorado is her second solo album and her first for Glitterbeat's tak:til imprint.

Gorgeous and haunting, Graindorge uses strings, harmonium and electronic treatments to explore intimate corners and widescreen vistas. Over the centuries Eldorado has become a word weighted down by so many meanings, layer upon layer of possibility and expectation. But it can also be a place to find hope and solace and discover dreams. That's the music of this Eldorado, the second solo album from Belgian violinist and composer Catherine Graindorge. Although she's best-known for her collaborations -- with a range of artists from Nick Cave to Mark Lanegan, as well as her work as part of Nile on waX, and for the music she's written for film and theater -- Graindorge had been intending a second solo release for years. But Eldorado had a much longer gestation period than she expected. The music, she says, became "like a diary", and each page brings new reflections and resonances. She worked with producer John Parish who played various instruments on the album, including the guitar on the homage "Eno". Graindorge had sent him her first album, and they built a friendship that led to her recording most of this disc at his studio. Like a series of secret paths, the music of Eldorado takes curious twists and turns, ranging from stillness to frustration. Things aren't quite as they seem; even the violin is disguised, shapeshifted by electronics, so the only certainty and continuity are the emotions Graindorge expresses. It's intensely personal, a record brimming with tales and reminiscences, like "Rosalie", a track she composed after reading of the death of a Rwandan woman in Belgium. Rosalie had come to Belgium with her husband to escape the genocide in her homeland in 1995, and Graindorge's lawyer father had befriended her. "Rosalie" is caught among the tangled, breathing shadows of the harmonium and the creak of strings, before slowly breaking free towards the light. At other times, Graindorge's compositions carry a wispy ghostliness, as on "Ghost Train", where softly spoken words peer through the swirling fog of sound. There can also be a very physical weight to what she's doing. It's apparent from the very first notes of "Lockdown", as the solid drone of the harmonium creates a foundation for her violin. During the first lockdown, she was trapped in Belgium. It's a slow build, the music exploring the texture of notes, like layers of memory gradually rising to the surface.

$24.00 IN STOCK

LP version. Catherine Graindorge is a Belgian violinist, violist and composer. Produced by John Parish (PJ Harvey, Rokia Traoré), Eldorado is her second solo album and her first for Glitterbeat's tak:til imprint.

Gorgeous and haunting, Graindorge uses strings, harmonium and electronic treatments to explore intimate corners and widescreen vistas. Over the centuries Eldorado has become a word weighted down by so many meanings, layer upon layer of possibility and expectation. But it can also be a place to find hope and solace and discover dreams. That's the music of this Eldorado, the second solo album from Belgian violinist and composer Catherine Graindorge. Although she's best-known for her collaborations -- with a range of artists from Nick Cave to Mark Lanegan, as well as her work as part of Nile on waX, and for the music she's written for film and theater -- Graindorge had been intending a second solo release for years. But Eldorado had a much longer gestation period than she expected. The music, she says, became "like a diary", and each page brings new reflections and resonances. She worked with producer John Parish who played various instruments on the album, including the guitar on the homage "Eno". Graindorge had sent him her first album, and they built a friendship that led to her recording most of this disc at his studio. Like a series of secret paths, the music of Eldorado takes curious twists and turns, ranging from stillness to frustration. Things aren't quite as they seem; even the violin is disguised, shapeshifted by electronics, so the only certainty and continuity are the emotions Graindorge expresses. It's intensely personal, a record brimming with tales and reminiscences, like "Rosalie", a track she composed after reading of the death of a Rwandan woman in Belgium. Rosalie had come to Belgium with her husband to escape the genocide in her homeland in 1995, and Graindorge's lawyer father had befriended her. "Rosalie" is caught among the tangled, breathing shadows of the harmonium and the creak of strings, before slowly breaking free towards the light. At other times, Graindorge's compositions carry a wispy ghostliness, as on "Ghost Train", where softly spoken words peer through the swirling fog of sound. There can also be a very physical weight to what she's doing. It's apparent from the very first notes of "Lockdown", as the solid drone of the harmonium creates a foundation for her violin. During the first lockdown, she was trapped in Belgium. It's a slow build, the music exploring the texture of notes, like layers of memory gradually rising to the surface.

$15.50 IN STOCK

Dal:um is a musical duo based in Seoul, who challenges the sonic possibilities of Korea's most well-known traditional string instruments: the gayageum and geomungo. Ethereal and otherworldly, Dal:um create a compelling soundworld that treasures subtle dynamics and the space between the notes. Two musicians. Two weighty acoustic stringed instruments. A dialogue between traditional and experimental practices. Dal:um was founded in 2018 by Ha Suyean (gayageum) and Hwang Hyeyoung (geomungo). Suyean notes that they first met as members of Seoul Metropolitan Youth Traditional Music Ensemble. While both Suyean and Hyeyoung had been performing Korean traditional music since their childhoods, upon meeting they discovered a shared desire to extend the techniques and boundaries of their instruments and to develop their own distinctive repertoire. The music of Dal:um is the result. "Dal:um's literal meaning is 'keep pursuing something' and it conveys our passion for music" says Hyeyoung. "In Korean its pronunciation could also mean 'different'. Dal:um represents the sounds of two similar and different instruments -- geomungo and gayageum..." When laid flat for performance, the two instruments played by Dal:um appear to be quite similar. However, a closer examination reveals both visual and sonic individualities. These instruments are ancient in origin, have silk strings that are plucked and can emit both melodic tonalities and percussive resonances. But their size difference, as well as the fact that they have a different number of strings, gives each of them a distinctive musical character. There is a refined and patient minimalism in Dal:um's compositions and musical expression. In part this can be attributed to their deep investigation of contemporary composition. The duo specifically notes that "this album contains the results of conversations about our music with three young Korean composers: Jang Taepeyong, Choi Jiwoon and Lee Aro." Dal:um's music could also be seen as sharing aesthetic concerns with Asian traditional painting and its inherent dialogue (and harmony) between emptiness and fullness. Dal:um's beautifully balanced and expansive music is defined by inspired dialogue and creative paradox. Silence and expression. Contemporary and traditional. Fullness and emptiness. Similar and different.

$15.50 IN STOCK

Adhelm's compositions investigate the spaces where insistent nature and bleak urbanity meet. The result is a compelling admixture of resonant percussion, processed field recordings and spectral electronics. His adventurous compositional processes and experiments echo musique concrète, Cageian indeterminacy, and the deep listening ethos of Pauline Oliveros.

"I do not know much about gods; but I think that the river Is a strong brown god -- sullen, untamed and intractable, Patient to some degree, at first recognised as a frontier; Useful, untrustworthy, as a conveyor of commerce; Then only a problem confronting the builder of bridges. The problem once solved, the brown god is almost forgotten; By the dwellers in cities -- ever, however, implacable. Keeping his seasons and rages, destroyer, reminder; Of what men choose to forget. Unhonoured, unpropitiated; By worshippers of the machine, but waiting, watching and waiting." --T.S. Eliot, from The Dry Salvages (No. 3 of "Four Quartets")

"This album comprises two pieces inspired by T. S. Eliot's The Dry Salvages. Yasam Rose imagines a day-in-the-life of the vessel of the same name that works along the lesser known part of the Thames. The ship sits small and alone in the river it traverses, occasionally kissing the vast banks which stir with trade and gossip. Navigating murky and muscular currents, it surveys the bleak flat landscapes scarified by dense clusters of industry. From wider waters, where sea-faring ships sit so tall they dwarf even the Yasam Rose, it travels upriver where scatters of Wren's London echo from the banks. A passage through rain thick with traces from a metropolis forgetting its bucolic past. Spek explores East London's once dense and thriving industry as it recedes into the Thames' estuary. Still kinetic with trade, some areas lie defunct and dilapidated as nature strives to claim them back. Spek is red with rust and spattered by the sludge of low tide. Wind-swept, battered and cold, the machine of industry fights on as nature howls, whirls and lashes against it." --Beni Giles (aka Adhelm)

$15.50 IN STOCK

Coming out of the fertile London jazz and experimental scenes, Krononaut is a richly textured new ensemble helmed by guitarist/producer Leo Abrahams (Brian Eno, Imogen Heap, Jon Hopkins) and drummer Martin France (Nils Petter Molvær, Evan Parker). The album features an esteemed group of collaborators and a sonic footprint that channels spectral ambiance, "fourth world" expansions and a gorgeous slow-boiling pointillism. Krononaut are a posse of time-expanding shapeshifters who, in the space of two sessions recorded early last year in London, have managed to produce ten cuts of arresting, deeply immersive instrumental music. The core of the album is provided by Leo Abrahams, whose startling guitar lit up Small Craft On A Milk Sea (2010), some of Brian Eno's best work of the last couple of decades, and who plays and produces here, and Martin France, the extraordinary drummer whose wide list of achievements and collaborators includes Evan Parker, Nils Petter Molvær, and, more tangentially, Elvis Costello. The two men came at it from two radically different backgrounds: Leo, who started off studying classic composition and who, in his own words, "can't play jazz", and Martin, whose playing rests precisely on what he refers to a "jazz sensibility", on everything about interacting within and shaping the music implied by that term. In on the first session was Shahzad Ismaily (Tom Waits, Laurie Anderson, Marc Ribot). Like many great multi-instrumentalists (on this album he plays bass), he was keen to find a frame for the "attitude" they should seek in the session; Leo obliged by playing some Madoh, shamanic funeral music from Tajikistan, whose unique rhythms ended up informing both the guitar and drums on this record. A second session was joined by bassist Tim Harries (June Tabor, Byrne & Eno), American saxophonist Matana Roberts, and Swedish trumpet maestro Arve Henriksen. Save for Henriksen's gorgeously melodic, flute-like lines, Krononaut was improvised live with no overdubs. Yet, these soundscapes never feel jammy or unfocused, possibly because of the influence of another of the album's spiritual touchstones: avant-garde pioneer Morton Feldman. The sessions produce overall a subtle and intricate record that expands with each listen. Pointillistic and often quietly restless. Rough edges butting against discrete spaces.

$23.50 IN STOCK

LP version. 180 gram vinyl; included download code. Coming out of the fertile London jazz and experimental scenes, Krononaut is a richly textured new ensemble helmed by guitarist/producer Leo Abrahams (Brian Eno, Imogen Heap, Jon Hopkins) and drummer Martin France (Nils Petter Molvær, Evan Parker). The album features an esteemed group of collaborators and a sonic footprint that channels spectral ambiance, "fourth world" expansions and a gorgeous slow-boiling pointillism. Krononaut are a posse of time-expanding shapeshifters who, in the space of two sessions recorded early last year in London, have managed to produce ten cuts of arresting, deeply immersive instrumental music. The core of the album is provided by Leo Abrahams, whose startling guitar lit up Small Craft On A Milk Sea (2010), some of Brian Eno's best work of the last couple of decades, and who plays and produces here, and Martin France, the extraordinary drummer whose wide list of achievements and collaborators includes Evan Parker, Nils Petter Molvær, and, more tangentially, Elvis Costello. The two men came at it from two radically different backgrounds: Leo, who started off studying classic composition and who, in his own words, "can't play jazz", and Martin, whose playing rests precisely on what he refers to a "jazz sensibility", on everything about interacting within and shaping the music implied by that term. In on the first session was Shahzad Ismaily (Tom Waits, Laurie Anderson, Marc Ribot). Like many great multi-instrumentalists (on this album he plays bass), he was keen to find a frame for the "attitude" they should seek in the session; Leo obliged by playing some Madoh, shamanic funeral music from Tajikistan, whose unique rhythms ended up informing both the guitar and drums on this record. A second session was joined by bassist Tim Harries (June Tabor, Byrne & Eno), American saxophonist Matana Roberts, and Swedish trumpet maestro Arve Henriksen. Save for Henriksen's gorgeously melodic, flute-like lines, Krononaut was improvised live with no overdubs. Yet, these soundscapes never feel jammy or unfocused, possibly because of the influence of another of the album's spiritual touchstones: avant-garde pioneer Morton Feldman. The sessions produce overall a subtle and intricate record that expands with each listen. Pointillistic and often quietly restless. Rough edges butting against discrete spaces.

$15.50 IN STOCK

Acclaimed London-based sonic explorer Seb Rochford unleashes a startling new band and debut album. The frontier where doom rhythms rub against haunted saxophone atmospherics. A four-time Mercury Prize nominee (Polar Bear, Sons of Kemet, Basquiat Strings) Pulled By Magnets is Seb's most sublime and provocative musical statement to date. From the off, it sounds unlike anything the Scots-born, London-based, desert-loving drummer of Anglo-Indian and English/Irish heritage has done before. Gone are the quizzical, music-hall-at-the-end-of-the-world stylings of Polar Bear, to be replaced by a soundtrack of the mind that is, by turns, sublime, stately and provocative. Rose Golden Doorways was recorded in The Old Church in Stoke Newington, London and features, in addition to Rochford, Polar Bear comrade Pete Wareham on saxophone and Neil Charles (Zed-U, Empirical) on bass guitar. Even with the help of the church, you'll wonder how the three of them managed to make the sound they do, especially when you learn that the album is a series of live takes, with no added studio woo. In his own words, Seb wanted "an overwhelming, big sound", one partly informed by his interest in the musical beyond of his grindcore/death/heavy roots. But there's another tradition at work here, the fruit of recent travels and musical study in India, the country of his mother's birth. He wanted to bring to this band the experiments with pacing and time found in the classical Indian raag -- something that, happily, Neil seemed to understand instinctively. Along with that was some intensive reading of ancient Indian and Bedouin texts, and it's a sense of the ancient that permeates the record more than anything else -- most clearly, to these ears, in "Breath That Sparks" as it resolves into the frankly terrifying "Those Among Us". There's huge scale involved here -- a sense of space, of geology, of tectonic plates shifting, like a piece of sonic Land Art wrought by Pete's titanic sax and eased (or hammered) into place by Seb's drums. For all that, this is a deeply personal, perhaps even intimate record, sound-tracking as it does Seb's own post-everything musical re-set, while the process of creation, which involves him singing the music to himself before writing it down on the piano, is a remarkably tender one for a record of this size.

$23.50 IN STOCK

LP version. 180 gram vinyl; includes download code. Acclaimed London-based sonic explorer Seb Rochford unleashes a startling new band and debut album. The frontier where doom rhythms rub against haunted saxophone atmospherics. A four-time Mercury Prize nominee (Polar Bear, Sons of Kemet, Basquiat Strings) Pulled By Magnets is Seb's most sublime and provocative musical statement to date. From the off, it sounds unlike anything the Scots-born, London-based, desert-loving drummer of Anglo-Indian and English/Irish heritage has done before. Gone are the quizzical, music-hall-at-the-end-of-the-world stylings of Polar Bear, to be replaced by a soundtrack of the mind that is, by turns, sublime, stately and provocative. Rose Golden Doorways was recorded in The Old Church in Stoke Newington, London and features, in addition to Rochford, Polar Bear comrade Pete Wareham on saxophone and Neil Charles (Zed-U, Empirical) on bass guitar. Even with the help of the church, you'll wonder how the three of them managed to make the sound they do, especially when you learn that the album is a series of live takes, with no added studio woo. In his own words, Seb wanted "an overwhelming, big sound", one partly informed by his interest in the musical beyond of his grindcore/death/heavy roots. But there's another tradition at work here, the fruit of recent travels and musical study in India, the country of his mother's birth. He wanted to bring to this band the experiments with pacing and time found in the classical Indian raag -- something that, happily, Neil seemed to understand instinctively. Along with that was some intensive reading of ancient Indian and Bedouin texts, and it's a sense of the ancient that permeates the record more than anything else -- most clearly, to these ears, in "Breath That Sparks" as it resolves into the frankly terrifying "Those Among Us". There's huge scale involved here -- a sense of space, of geology, of tectonic plates shifting, like a piece of sonic Land Art wrought by Pete's titanic sax and eased (or hammered) into place by Seb's drums. For all that, this is a deeply personal, perhaps even intimate record, sound-tracking as it does Seb's own post-everything musical re-set, while the process of creation, which involves him singing the music to himself before writing it down on the piano, is a remarkably tender one for a record of this size.

$32.00 IN STOCK

2024 restock; double LP version. 180 gram vinyl; includes CD. Tak:Til/Glitterbeat present the first ever reissue and remastering of Jon Hassell and Farafina's prescient, "Fourth World" masterwork, Flash of the Spirit, originally released in 1988. Propulsive Burkinese rhythms meet revelatory, ambient soundscapes. Co-produced with the legendary studio team of Brian Eno and Dainel Lanois. Composer and trumpeter Jon Hassell has been an elusive, iconic musical figure for more than half a century. He's best known as the pioneer and propagandist of "Fourth World" music, mixing technology with the tradition and spirituality of non-western cultures. In 1987 he joined with Farafina, the acclaimed percussion, voice, and dance troupe from Burkina Faso, to record Flash of the Spirit. While the album is a natural extension of those "Fourth World" ideas, and a new strand of Possible Musics, it also a distinctive outlier in the careers of both artists; an unrepeated merging of sounds whose influence still reverberates today. The eight members of the band -- who had also collaborated with the Rolling Stones and Ryuichi Sakamoto -- brought their long apprenticed, virtuosic drumming, and melodic textures (balafon, flute, voices) to the sessions. They built up layers and patterns of rhythm, while producers Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois (fresh off the success of U2's Joshua Tree) created a sonic atmosphere in which they could creatively intertwine with Hassell's digitally processed trumpet and keyboards. Despite their initial skepticism, the musicians from Farafina ended up relishing their interaction with the studio team and the trumpeter/conceptualist Hassell. The music that emerged was rich and groundbreaking, a move to transcend the boundaries between jazz, avant-garde classical, ambient and the deep rhythmic tradition embodied by Farafina. On "Out Pours", the groove simmers softly, led by shifting patterns on the balafon, while Hassell's heavily treated trumpet creates breathy swirls of sound that play and dance around them. Percussion leads on "A Vampire Dances," pushing and probing and seeming to force electronic shrieks as a response from Hassell's trumpet, while the keyboard creates a bed of sound that refuses to hold still. "(Like) Warriors Everywhere" takes that idea even further. Over Farafina's surging rhythms, Hassell's electric piano and trumpet dig deep into abstract, melodic ideas hinted at by the Bitches Brew-era Miles Davis band. Farafina create the rhythms and counter-rhythms that spring and move. A new, natural trans-cultural harmony is apparent on the final track, "Masque", where percussion and treated trumpet draw the listener along on a journey through shifting landscapes.

$15.50 IN STOCK

Tak:Til/Glitterbeat present the first ever reissue and remastering of Jon Hassell and Farafina's prescient, "Fourth World" masterwork, Flash of the Spirit, originally released in 1988. Propulsive Burkinese rhythms meet revelatory, ambient soundscapes. Co-produced with the legendary studio team of Brian Eno and Dainel Lanois. Composer and trumpeter Jon Hassell has been an elusive, iconic musical figure for more than half a century. He's best known as the pioneer and propagandist of "Fourth World" music, mixing technology with the tradition and spirituality of non-western cultures. In 1987 he joined with Farafina, the acclaimed percussion, voice, and dance troupe from Burkina Faso, to record Flash of the Spirit. While the album is a natural extension of those "Fourth World" ideas, and a new strand of Possible Musics, it also a distinctive outlier in the careers of both artists; an unrepeated merging of sounds whose influence still reverberates today. The eight members of the band -- who had also collaborated with the Rolling Stones and Ryuichi Sakamoto -- brought their long apprenticed, virtuosic drumming, and melodic textures (balafon, flute, voices) to the sessions. They built up layers and patterns of rhythm, while producers Brian Eno and Daniel Lanois (fresh off the success of U2's Joshua Tree) created a sonic atmosphere in which they could creatively intertwine with Hassell's digitally processed trumpet and keyboards. Despite their initial skepticism, the musicians from Farafina ended up relishing their interaction with the studio team and the trumpeter/conceptualist Hassell. The music that emerged was rich and groundbreaking, a move to transcend the boundaries between jazz, avant-garde classical, ambient and the deep rhythmic tradition embodied by Farafina. On "Out Pours", the groove simmers softly, led by shifting patterns on the balafon, while Hassell's heavily treated trumpet creates breathy swirls of sound that play and dance around them. Percussion leads on "A Vampire Dances," pushing and probing and seeming to force electronic shrieks as a response from Hassell's trumpet, while the keyboard creates a bed of sound that refuses to hold still. "(Like) Warriors Everywhere" takes that idea even further. Over Farafina's surging rhythms, Hassell's electric piano and trumpet dig deep into abstract, melodic ideas hinted at by the Bitches Brew-era Miles Davis band. Farafina create the rhythms and counter-rhythms that spring and move. A new, natural trans-cultural harmony is apparent on the final track, "Masque", where percussion and treated trumpet draw the listener along on a journey through shifting landscapes.

$23.50 IN STOCK

LP version. 180 gram vinyl; includes download code. Slovenian "imaginary folk" instrumental trio return with a kaleidoscopic third album. Handmade and global instrumentation meets fearless sound exploration. There's a sequence in Memoryscapes, a lovely French-made short film, in which Sirom set about fashioning music from a pile of pots, pans, saucepan lids and empty cans of supermarket lager on the kitchen table. The three members of the band -- Ana Kravanja, Samo Kutin, and Iztok Koren, in any order you like for this is a collective endeavor -- are gently fending off any question that attempts to reduce their music to type. "Imaginary folk" is Samo's preferred description, but the word "preferred" is doing some heavy lifting here. The band are more than happy to bust two myths that seem to have grown up in the last couple of years. First, this is not Slovenian traditional (or traditional Slovenian) music. It might be produced from and by each of the three landscapes in which the band were raised -- the Karst, the hills of Tolmin, the eastern plains of Prekmurje -- but unpicking what came from where is an impossible endeavor. That leads you to the second misconception: that Sirom are an improvisational band. For sure, improvisation is an indispensable part of the initial songwriting process; but it's an expression of their collective manner of working rather than any musical statement per se. Keen-eared listeners will hear a continuation of the last song on Clay Snapper (GB 051CD, LP) in the first song of the new record: a nod, perhaps, to the fact that they began work on the new record immediately after the last. But whatever has gone into the music, from the band's home landscapes to their previous and in some cases still current musical projects (classical, hardcore, flatlands post-rock), Sirom sound like no one else. The world of the new record -- A Universe that Roasts Blossoms for a Horse -- is indeed subtly different to that of the last: the viola still teases and tugs at the percussion and the banjo still periodically tries to break free and set up on its own, but there's a glimpse of electricity in "A Pulse Expels Its Brothers and Sisters", courtesy of Samo's homemade tampura brač, more vocals, albeit as unsettling as ever, and a new sense of spaces being pried open.

$15.50 IN STOCK

Slovenian "imaginary folk" instrumental trio return with a kaleidoscopic third album. Handmade and global instrumentation meets fearless sound exploration. There's a sequence in Memoryscapes, a lovely French-made short film, in which Sirom set about fashioning music from a pile of pots, pans, saucepan lids and empty cans of supermarket lager on the kitchen table. The three members of the band -- Ana Kravanja, Samo Kutin, and Iztok Koren, in any order you like for this is a collective endeavor -- are gently fending off any question that attempts to reduce their music to type. "Imaginary folk" is Samo's preferred description, but the word "preferred" is doing some heavy lifting here. The band are more than happy to bust two myths that seem to have grown up in the last couple of years. First, this is not Slovenian traditional (or traditional Slovenian) music. It might be produced from and by each of the three landscapes in which the band were raised -- the Karst, the hills of Tolmin, the eastern plains of Prekmurje -- but unpicking what came from where is an impossible endeavor. That leads you to the second misconception: that Sirom are an improvisational band. For sure, improvisation is an indispensable part of the initial songwriting process; but it's an expression of their collective manner of working rather than any musical statement per se. Keen-eared listeners will hear a continuation of the last song on Clay Snapper (GB 051CD, LP) in the first song of the new record: a nod, perhaps, to the fact that they began work on the new record immediately after the last. But whatever has gone into the music, from the band's home landscapes to their previous and in some cases still current musical projects (classical, hardcore, flatlands post-rock), Sirom sound like no one else. The world of the new record -- A Universe that Roasts Blossoms for a Horse -- is indeed subtly different to that of the last: the viola still teases and tugs at the percussion and the banjo still periodically tries to break free and set up on its own, but there's a glimpse of electricity in "A Pulse Expels Its Brothers and Sisters", courtesy of Samo's homemade tampura brač, more vocals, albeit as unsettling as ever, and a new sense of spaces being pried open.

$15.50 IN STOCK

Park Jiha's debut album Communion (GB 057CD/LP) -- released internationally by tak:til in 2018 -- drew well deserved attention to the young Korean instrumentalist/composer's vivid sound world. The widely acclaimed album graced 2018 critics lists at The Wire, Pop Matters, and the Guardian. Her new album Philos -- which she calls an evocation of her "love for time, space and sound" -- is every bit as inventive, elegant, and transcendent as her debut. While Park Jiha's music is often contextualized by its kinship with minimalism, ambient, and chamber jazz, her creative backbone is Korean traditional music. Jiha formally studied both its theory and practice and has mastered three of its most emblematic instruments: Piri (double reed bamboo flute), saenghwang (mouth organ), and yanggeum (hammered dulcimer). On Communion, Park Jiha wove these ancient instruments into an ensemble sound that included other musicians contributing on vibraphone, saxophone, bass clarinet, and percussion. The effect felt revelatory; it seemed to naturally evoke Jon Hassell's "Fourth World" ethos, morphing across time and tradition. Philos is both an extension of, and a swerve away from, her previous record. It shares its predecessor's patience and deeply resonant hypnotic effects. It similarly looks to the future, while continuing to converse with a rich instrumental language from the past. But the overall tone and intent feels much more interior and personal -- more rarefied. Whereas Communion featured the classic sound field of a group of musicians playing in a room, Philos trades that for more density and concentration. Each sound has been given the artist's full attention. In Greek, "Philos" is the plural for "philo" which can mean "love" or "the liking of a specified thing." The album's compositions include "Arrival", which slowly introduces every sound featured on the record. The gift of unexpected rain in the heat of midsummer is heard on "Thunder Shower". "Easy" is a poem written and recited by the Lebanese artist Dima El Sayed who visited Korea to participate in the Hwaeom Spiritual Music Ritual and was inspired by Park Jiha's work. The title track "Philos" was created by overlapping sounds and stretching time. "Walker: In Seoul" evokes the vivid soundscape of the city in which Jiha lives. "When I Think If Her" features the ghostly melodies of the yanggeum and saenghwang. Park Jiha reaches for a sturdy simplicity. A borderless connection between her life and her accomplished musical art.