Peter James is known for crafting soundscapes that manage to be both vast and intimate at the same time. He knows the power imparted by speaking softly but intently, and puts that knowledge to extremely good use in Landfall. The first of the three tracks here, “Relocation,” sets the stage as James unfurls breath-slowing pads with an underlying sense of expectancy. Something in the flow feels like it’s sloping very gently upward, patiently striving for some unspoken thing. This moves into the stunning 35-minute title track. It opens very quietly on misty drones that impart an uncertain sense of comfort. There’s the feeling of being lulled into a soothed complacency, but for a reason. A distant, almost metallic clatter strikes infrequently, rippling this well-packed fog bank of drone. James dismisses it after several minutes, but its memory persists in the way you wait to hear/feel it again, as if it were a waypoint in this wandering that you’d rather not do without. It returns, and effectively so, toward the end of the track. I could loop this track alone over and over and be content. The layers are full and in constant motion, and its emotional sense–another area in which James excels–is tactile. The closing track, “Separation,” begins on the shadowy side, ominous drones and cold-wind whispers coming from all sides. James nails his theme here; this is like a softer-edged take on isolationist ambient. It is vast and shot through with a sense of emptiness, but never heads toward the unpleasant grimness of dark work. You are alone, and you know it, and you’re left to wonder how and why. Landfall is a disc that works it way osmotically into your system. It’s textbook ambient, written in James’ expert terminology. In headphones the understated complexities shine. Given low-volume, looped command of a space, it shows its quiet and undeniable persuasion. You will be affected by Landfall.

Kudos also to Ann Schmitz for the darkly gorgeous photography that graces the release. When you go to the Relaxed Machinery site to check out this disc, take a moment to open the wallpaper link to take it in.

Available from Relaxed Machinery.

The really good news is that Epoch, the first collaboration between Shane Morris and Mystified, is the first of a planned “trilogy about prehistoric time and evolution.” Having gone very deep into this mix of strictly organic drones and touches of tribal ambient, I can say that this series is off to a very good start. Dronemeister Thomas Park, aka Mystified, a man whose passion is taking any sound he can get his gear on and finding a way to stretch and meld it into new shapes, lays down a dense bed of tone. Shane Morris, whose recent forays into tribal, such as his excellent release, Equinox, have kept him high on my list of artists to watch, augments Park’s base with his own array of processed sounds, snarling didgeridoo and percussion. Much of the potency and earthy resonance of Epoch comes out of the artists’ decision to use only acoustic instruments in creating the drones, tones and pads at work here. The sources range from didg to vibraphone to trombone, all bent to the duo’s will and repurposed into four stunningly immersive tracks. This album is entirely about atmosphere. It’s not musical, it’s spatial. It’s the creation of sonic depth and sensation, of grinding out a pure and visceral response to sounds brought to bear en masse. It’s a pseudo-hypnotic trigger mechanism that sends our minds off into a richly imagined, thematically guided space. It is dense and humid and guttural and primitive and works its way into that eldest part of your brain and tries its best to wake it back up. And it is so very effective in what it sets out to do. Although every track here is rock solid and the disc overall is an amazing bit of darkly meditative soundcrafting, the centerpiece is the 21-minute “Devonia.” Words will absolutely fail to do service to this track. Morris’ didg curls and snarls and threatens even as it beckons you downward. The drones here seem to spin, vortex-like, to create an inexorable grasp. This is where your best bet is to simply give yourself over and listen to the duo build the sound around you, the density growing and waning over and over until you’re simply lost in the wonderful murk of sound. Epoch is a lights-out, headphones-on, make-time-for release. In terms of discs that strive solely for atmosphere, this is one of the best discs I’ve heard in years. And folks, it’s just the first of three to come out of this collaboration. The bar is set very high with Epoch; but I have no doubt that Mystified and Morris have only just begun to craft. An amazing album.

Available from Spotted Peccary.

This will be one of those reviews that ends with me suggesting you have a listen for yourself. Kamil Kowalczyk’s Atmospheres is eight tracks of very minimal electronic drone. Tones oscillate and intersect, sometimes underlaid by a bass waveform, but not often feeling like they’re heading anywhere. There’s a superficiality of tone that wears thin on me not too far into the disc. Even when I’ve had it comes as part of a shuffle, it just proves too static–no pun intended–to hold my attention. This is my second outing with Kowalczyk’s work, and I must say I just don’t get it. If your tastes run toward experimental/noise, your opinion may vary.

Available from Prototyp Produktions.

Minimalist Wes Willenbring returns with an arsenal of grit-packed drones and layers of mass deconstruction on his new release, Weapons Reference Manual. As in previous works, the central conceit here is a slow and thoughtful deliberation of sound. Resonance matters to Willenbring; it’s an emotive element, but it also allows him to pile the hanging sounds to create a new sense out of them all. “Scene Missing” makes superb use of this constancy of tone. New sounds fold quietly into the existing mix over time, reforming the sonic topography but never urging it above an initmate, whispering drone.  A descending three-note phrase provides shambling movement. Another Willenbring signature is, for lack of a better term, the subversion of the normal. He’ll start with an instrument in its ordinary state–the guitar  in “People Disappear Every Day,” for example, then filter in his drones, static and interference and make the listener work to hang onto that element. (You won’t win in the long run.) It works in reverse order on “The Worst Part of You is the Best Thing You Have.” On this track the “normal” elements rise out of a rich tremolo warble of fuzz, which grinds off into nothing. Deconstruction in reverse, maybe? The centerpiece of the disc is the 15-minute “Quaaludes,” which opens as a grinding set of guitar notes, their detritus spining off into that piling sustain. The sound soon becomes hypnotic, despite its increasingly roughened texture. (This is something else you get a lot of from Willenbring–tactile sound.)  Weapons Reference Manual is a scant 40 minutes long, but its sheer density and depth ignore time. Deep listening is a must. Willenbring’s drones are complex, a pleasure to dive into. This is another excellent outing from a intriguing and confident artist.

Available from Hidden Shoal.

On this three-track offering, Onewayness (aka Adam Holquist) moves the listener at speed through drone spaces, manipuated field recordings, high-speed analog-synth constructs, air-ripping guitar and more.  Add to that the fact that it flashes by in under 40 minutes, and it sounds like a recipe for a train wreck. It’s not. Two out of the three are long enough to give Holquist time to logically move through his scenes. When “Kill All Voices” shifts from gurgling electronics and muddy, processed sound bites to long string pads and then a rapid burst of old-school synth work, it makes sense. (And those first sequenced notes just bring a bit of fun.) It’s an odd progression, but a progression. Once the sequencer breaks in, this track keeps rising in energy, culminating in the arrival of in that wailing guitar, before Holquist throws a switch and shuts it all back down to a hush. Similarly, when sliding guitar chords find their way into the foggy drone-bank of “Nothing Is Hidden, Nothing Is Revealed,” the narrative movement is solid. The guitar is a firm element for several minutes; when it’s replaced by fuzzy electronic slashes, it’s meant to be. What helps is that all the elements are certain and solid. You could listen to the drones on their own, or the analog rushes, and they’d work. Holquist confidently melds it all together, switching their identities without upsetting the listener’s immersion. The middle track is something of a two-and-half-minute long palate cleanser between the two bigger works, but the repeating parade of chime-like tones holds its own, its simplicity a nice contrast to the density of the remainder. Blue Star Is Freezing packs a lot into its short span and doesn’t miss its various marks. Its depth gives repeat listens a lot of value.

Available from the Onewayness web site.

You could look at “Old Dance,” the title of the first track on Jenga, the new release from guitarist Sparky Quano, as a nod to the much-missed Michael Hedges, whose legacy, along with a nod to ZZ Top,  is all over it, as it is on other tracks here as well. Ringing harmonics, body-knocks, and manic flurries of chords up and down the neck–they’re here in force. But this is not some sort of tribute album. Quano is a masterful player who has clear influences, but he’s also made his name for inventive looping techniques, and while this disc is meant to showcase his acoustic skills, that shows up on Jenga as well. Catch the whirling concentric circles of “Where Are You Going?” as Quano adds to a growing mix element by element, including a growling processed vocal. When he starts to shred in this one, it comes out with a serpentine Middle Eastern flair that will firmly ensnare you. “Mind” is another loop piece, complex and a little experimental–but again, the rush is in listening to Quano adding and managing those additional skeins he’s weaving. the majority of tracks, however, are more in line with the Hedges feel, and they’re rock solid. Try to picture the speed of Quano’s hands as he flicks and taps out the start of “Mission” and the flash-fire chords that follow. It’s pure technique, matched with passion.  His bass-string work on the title track is a joy to feel. (More Hedges callouts–it reminds me of “Because It’s There.”)  The final track, “Gairoju,” is an easy ballad that rings crisply in the air. There’s a beautiful break that Quano lays a little tremolo into as he fires off some fingerboard chords that make me catch my breath. Jenga does run the risk of getting a little same-sounding at times, but it’s a refreshing break if you’re looking for something outside electronic music and more stolid New Age guitar.

Available at Quano’s Sonic Bid site.

Within Reason is a side project of Greg Kyryluk, who first established himself under the moniker Alpha Wave Movement and later as part of the duo Thought Guild.* As AWM, he focused on deep spacemusic; Thought Guild was more of a Berlin-school-influenced outing. Recording as Within Reason, Kyryluk now takes on a form that retains a very solid ambient base, but also puts focus on slowed, understated rhythms and an ear-pleasing touch of dub echo. What works best on Subtle Shift is the way Kyryluk keeps his beats truly subdued–call them subdermal. Often they’re no more an a gentle tapping keeping cadence under the laid-back flows, but they’re always distinctly felt. Kyryluk’s main grooves here retain  a spacey, wide-scope feel, but also take on a lounge-like quality that meshes smoothly with the beats. The dub influence is at its firmest in the cool pulse of “Bodhi.” Rim shots snap and echo, ricocheting back and forth across the headphones. Kyryluk lays in some tasty bass as well. Crickets and light touches of glassy chimes fill the space. Great track. For pure, mind-salving cool, find your way to “Nimbus.” Big, spacemusic pads ease along over a tick-tock beat phrase and a slowly moving chord phrase. Kyryluk builds the intensity just a touch, but always keeps it reined in. “Liquid Language” where Subtle Shift hits its most upbeat feel. Of all the tracks here it reminds me most of AWM, with a little extra touch of groove that comes from a solid lounge overtone. Every track on this disc has its own distinct groove, and everything comes off cool and confident. It’s just a pleasure to drop into; Kyryluk is definitely in his element here. A superb release.

Available from Harmonic Resonance.

*Read my review of Thought Guild’s “Third Voyage” here.

In this very enjoyable New Age offering, flute, guitar, sitar, and esraj (something like a bowed sitar) harmonize over quiet synthesizer lines and piano for an hour. The breathiness of the flute, the resonant hum of the strings, and the unhurried pace produce a quite meditation-worthy space in which to dwell. Tim White’s work on the bamboo flute and strings creates soporific structures that maintain a melodic character as they massage your brain into welcome submission. Joe Paulino’s piano lays lush and solid counterpoints to its more floaty partners in sound, and the synth work slips in like a shadow in the background. The five pieces here are quite long enough, with the shortest running almost nine minutes, to allow the listener to fully give themselves over and fall well and deeply into White and Paulino’s laid-back musings. It has to be said that the formula at work, the interplay of sounds, doesn’t shift a whole lot as the disc proceeds. But that’s okay, as it creates a smooth, absolutely ripple-free surface for reflection. There’s also enough individual character to the tracks to differentiate waypoints in the flow. “In-Joy” stands out for the light Spanish flair of the guitar and its conversational back-and-forth exchanges with the piano and flute. The subtle vibrato of the electric keys in “Island Pulse” call to mind Steve Halpern’s crystal piano pieces from the 80s. The sitar and esraj in the first two tracks are as tasty as a good palak paneer, and just as satisfying as they hum you to a well-lulled state of mind. Overall, Inhale Slowly benefits from a wonderful, heartfelt organic tone. You feel to your core the vibration of the strings, you sense the warmth of the breath across the flute. You just forget, as it goes along, that there’s anything but the music. And isn’t that what it’s all about? Turn this one on at the next sunset. Pour yourself a glass of something enjoyable, kick back and listen to the music and just let it wash past. Time well spent.

Available at inhaleslowly.com.

Rough day? No problem. Load up East Forest’s Music Meditations, give it two minutes, and everything that’s bothering you is going to just coast quietly away. From there, you’ve got an hour’s pleasant and catchy respite from your various woes. Trevor Oswalt, recording as East Forest, offers up 10 tracks that were improvised and recorded live through the use of looping pedals, catching musical thoughts in the very moment they happened. The results are light, but not fluffy, and run quite deep. Oswalt’s mix of acoustic instruments, electronics and field recordings come together perfectly. A great organic touch comes from the harmonica in “Slowly But Forward” and “Roll With It.” Outside of augmenting the quiet melodies at work, it’s like a reminder of the simple vitality of breath. His field recording sources are fairly broad–I like the PA system announcements in “Common Ground,” providing vital information on escalator safety as Oswalt lays down a jaunty line on keys, accented with a vocal line. It’s a cool out-of-left-field touch that just works. Mechanical sounds, dogs and seagulls also find their way into the piece, and it’s all integral. My one “Hmm” on this disc comes from how similar “Trailblazing” feels to “Common Ground”–like they share a loop base. But “Trailblazing” soon becomes its own charming self, lithely descending notes and popping chords on electric piano repeating themselves into a lulling mix, so I can easily forgive it. Music Meditations is quite honestly one of the most soothing non-ambient discs I’ve had the pleasure to listen in a while, and that sense comes from its easy, playful edge and a sort of smiling sense of calm that winds itself throughout. It’s feel-good without being sappy, and fully owns its laid-back feel. Oswalt clearly loves the openness of improvisation, and doesn’t let it stray into experimental territory. Despite the in-the-moment reality of what’s happening here, everything feels well constructed and planned. This is my introduction to East Forest and I’m looking forward to hearing more. Definitely one to check out.

Available from East Forest’s web site.

Paulina Cassidy doesn’t waste time. On her new release, Girl in a Moonbeam Cloak, she floats 18 tracks through your head in the course of 42 minutes. Seems like that wouldn’t be enough time to do things right, or too much to do effectively, but Cassidy’s half-whispered dreamscapes don’t need a lot of time to work their way into your mind and soul. The allure here is the way Cassidy weaves together her mist-shrouded romance, tinged in spots with a bit of neo-classical influence, and lilting, keening vocals that call to mind Loreena McKennit, sans lyrics. Tracks like “We Are” and “A Gathering of Ghosts” stand on a potent piano foundation and let Cassidy’s spirit helpers of sound course around them. “4:44 a.m.” is beautifully sad, a song borne of the kind of heartbreak that keeps you from sleeping. Clocking in at under 90 seconds, it’s like a final sad expression before surrender. The simple repetition of a scale feels like indecision in its simplicity. Oddly affecting for so short a thought. Cassidy also has a real feel for creating haunted landscapes. “Peppermint Fox Bats” carves right up to the edge of weird discomfort with a suspense-movie-theme piano melody repeating itself on and off while wispy, processed voices haunt the background. “Somewhere in the Night” sounds like lost cries echoing back toward the real world from across the void. Superb use of echo in this, and touches of half-heard words up the sense of the arcane. But Girl in a Moonbeam Cloak isn’t all keening and wailing. Cassidy mixes up the flow a couple of times and actually rolls in an upbeat direction. “Skyrunning” thumps along with a bit of an electro-pop-style beat, played off against floaty vocals.  “Secret Passage” is bright, particularly against the foggy backdrop of many of the other tracks. Beneath the sound, a sequencer-like pulse keeps the beat. Once again, Ms. Cassidy offers up a work that’s enchanting in several senses of the word, a little weird and a lot of lovely, short enough to enjoy in a quick sitting, and very well worth going back to over and over. She’s rapidly becoming one of my preferred artists.

Available from Paulina Cassidy’s web site.