Listening to Gaston Arevalo’s work is like wandering through someone else’s hazy recollections. You see the sights, you feel like you recognize what’s going on around you, but it’s all coming at you filtered through a gauzy wall of fog, the stuff that makes up the space between worlds. Arevalo’s propensity for soft focus in his music results in work that can have lively aspects tucked into it, yet always feels patiently laid-back. Habitat offers up eight such guided tours through the composer’s thoughts; they make for a superb wind-down listening experience that amps up exponentially when given close attention. Arevalo’s landscapes run deep and thick with detail. Floating backdrops of microsound and manipulated nature sounds are punctuated with the touch of acoustic instruments–guitar and piano–that stand out all the more for their comparatively concrete nature. (This is at its best on the mind-melting quiet of “Estuario.”) Rhythmic elements slide into place in spots without disturbing the flow. Even when Arevalo gets a little more aggressive with his sound, as he does in the sandpapery textures of “Agreste” or the glitch-strewn, chopped pulse of “Velero,” it’s balanced off with that overarching mistiness of sound and everything stays calm. Habitat is a relase you need to just dive into and let yourself coast downstream. It’s a short ride, gliding past in under 40 minutes but offering stunning musical vistas the whole way.

Available from FuseLab/Passage.

Done right, tribal ambient music twists its way deep into your head to become something of a mass for your primal mind, a harmonic key that opens a path to your inner pre-Dawn-of-Man self and connects, in part, on a purely instinctual level. Equinox, the new release from Shane Morris, is tribal ambient done right–although the tribal tag may not be entirely accurate. It’s not all drums, didges and cave-wall echoes–although you do get a fair amount of that. Rather, it’s a neatly paced meditation down into yourself, textbook tribal where it needs to be, hushed, washed, vast and melodic where it should be, and pulled together in a way that ensures Morris’ path makes complete sense and a complete journey. The four pieces here run just under 45 minutes, but thanks to Morris’ pacing, the time feels wonderfully stretched while you’re in the middle of it all.

The title track rises up in shimmering pads, hints of  nature sounds easing the listener into the journey ahead. Then, coming up from under, the driving, compelling heartbeat at the center of Equinox–drums. This really is the spiritual center of the piece; Morris’ drumming ushers the listener into the ritual of Equinox with the frenetic energy of a soul-felt dance. (Here I get echoes of Roach’s Trance Spirit.) Even as it rises in intensity, the background pads stay low-key, silken and fluid. Voices drift in as you begin to drift out. Morris lets it cool off into quietness, then arcs into “Twilight Returns” with mildly dissonant flute sounds, ringing chimes and softer, brushed percussion. This is where he begins to spread out his landscape, with the help of guitar from Dan Minoza (who’s also tucked into the first track). There’s still an energy here, but it’s lighter–sky versus ground. The density grows, a syncopated flurry of sounds with an anticipatory edge to them, and the ride just keeps getting better. Then you’re headed back down as Morris moves into “The Earth Speaks.” He largely gives over the lead to AK Blake, whose throaty, droning didgeridoo work is like a spiral staircase directly into your subconscious. This track is your invitation to the Lower World, hissing, hypnotic and a little claustrophobic, filled with tectonic rumbling. Morris closes out with “By The Fire’s Light,” where the drums return to reinvigorate you after your time below. Morris hangs gorgeous pauses in spots, breath-catching moments before another round of drumming takes hold. Underneath it all, he lays down thick, somewhat shadowy swirls of sound as counterpoint. The track fades perfectly toward its end, the ritual complete.

This is must-listen for tribal ambient fans. It’s become a favorite of mine among my tribal listens. I’ve kept Equinox looping for literally hours at times while writing this review, and its spell remains potent and affecting. An excellent outing from Shane Morris.

Available from Earth Mantra.

Although it will make me sound like a complete shill to say so, I’m of the opinion that any project involving Phillip Wilkerson is a project extremely worth listening to. His solo works, including his long-form-drone offerings as Jane’s Scenic Drive, show a diversity of approach and a willingness to re-create himself each time out. Now, paired with Jourdan Laik as the duo Time Being, Wilkerson presents another side of his growing output–a soft, reflective disc that holds time in its hands to let the listener look deep within it. A Dimension Reflected takes gentle hold immediately as Laik and Wilkerson spin a velvety cocoon of classic ambient drifts. Most of the work here is on the uplifting side; warm, light tones that float above the listener and invite you to follow, excellent exercises in slowing the breath and seeming to soften the air around you. The duo do spend a short amount of time, most notably in “Future Forming,” skirting the edges of shadow and colder spaces without dropping into total darkness. Low-end, grumbling drones are tinted with high notes that fall like sunlight in their midst. With that out of the way, the meditative movements continue, the overall flow absolutely demanding it be played on loop. This is a work that will round off the harsh edges of your day, set your mind at ease and let you peacefully wander off to some quiet space inside yourself. I do hope to hear much more from Time Being–A Dimension Reflected is a superb debut.

Available from Spotted Peccary.