When I first dove into the New Age music world back in the mid- to late-80s, Steven Halpern was a personal favorite. Like any good crystal-wielding listener, I had my copy of Chakra Suite and I often let Halpern’s signature stair-climbing scales on his Rhodes Mark 7 electric piano work their harmonic magic on aligning my energies. His song “Radiance,” which I believe originated on his album Jonah’s Journey, and was later reworked for another release, still resonates with me emotionally. Even so, as my tastes segued out of the New Age space, I sort of lost track of Halpern. I re-upped a digital copy of Chakra Suite a few years back, mostly for nostalgic purposes, but it had been a long time since I listened to his music. So it was a pleasant surprise when his latest–and Grammy-nominated–release, Deep Alpha, showed up at my door and showed me, at first listen, that I was still a pretty solid Halpern appreciator. Between the pure-sinewave tones of the Rhodes and a bit of aural engineering, Deep Alpha quickly accomplishes its mind-massaging mission, as stated in the disc’s full title, Deep Alpha: Brainwave Entrainment for Meditation and Healing. Halpern is assisted by oboe from Paul McCandless, who also lent his graceful sounds to Peter Kater’s recent disc, Light Body, fretless bass legend Michael Manring, and one of my favorite touches, a sample of tambura drone from Warren Kahn. McCandless is featured on the opening track, his woodwind singing over those familiar, glittering keyboard runs and an undercurrent of synth. Manring and Kahn drop into the mix on Part 3, the hum of the tambura entwined with the background washes as the keys and bass swap phrases with a hint of jazzy intent. This is one of the things I quite enjoy about Deep Alpha; it has its very New Age-y, healing-music core, but the music often rises above what the framework might suggest. Folks who roll their eyes at the hint of such a modality will miss out on the number of good, fairly straightforward compositions here. The healing aspect is going on around the music regardless. Halpern also switches things up and takes on a more ambient stance in some tracks. Part 5, for example, is five minutes of salving drift. Part 8 is another, focused on Manring’s bass, buoyed by curling synth lines and more long, soft washes. Part 11 builds from Kahn’s tambura again, with angel-choir pads singing backup. These shifts in approach help to keep the sound of the Rhodes from wearing thin; when it re-appears after a more ambient stretch, its clear, ringing tone is a refreshing wake-up call. The disc closes out with the traditionally New Age, always-soothing sounds of the ocean. Each time I’ve gone through a full listen I have come away very much relaxed, my head a little clearer, and ready to hear it again. A great release that fulfills its mission statement with grace and  beauty.

Available from Steven Halpern’s web site.

Adhering closely to Eno’s ideal of ambient music, John Sobocan’s new release, A Soft Circle, is an astounding work of understated grace. Played quietly in the background, the disc is a subtle thing, never raising its voice but patiently waiting for your attention. Passages arise like wayward thoughts and then melt back into the distance. But close up, the layers of Sobocan’s work are revealed. In among the dreamy flows and sighing phrases there is depth and texture–even the occasional rough edge and passing darkness. The mix begins immediately. At a distance, the opening track “Free” is a set of stretched, languidly yawning pads, warm and immersive. In headphones, however, you’ll more clearly notice a background sound, somewhere between muted buzzsaw whir and a power chord, cutting across the sound. Field recordings work their way into the blend as well; crickets chirp behind the quickly undulating waveforms of “Silence,” and “Leaves On A Forest Floor” is filled with birdsong and the hush of a flowing rill, placed over shadowy chords and pads. A distant roll of thunder can be heard in places. While the latter track’s pedigree may seem to stem from some old, regrettable “atmospheres” kind of work meant to lull you to sleep with recorded rainstorms, the subtlety of the music behind it elevates the sense and quality by several levels. “The Path” is a deep envelope of sound–once again, in a non-focused listen it’s simply soothing. Get in close and you’ll hear much more texture, ripples of sound, a whisper of wind. There’s a slight sense of unease curled around “Ohms”–the clock-chime tones that form the body edge toward a hint of dissonance; roughened, downward-arcing spirals lace through the background; wayward tones wander in, and laze back out. “Rove” opens with a sharp electronic buzz and fluttering, helicopter-like sounds. Although the sound itself is a bit disruptive–especially coming out of the charm of “A Boat”–Sobocan modulates it into a hypnotic waveform and lets it hiss its way into your head. This is what I quite like about A Soft Circle; Sobocan keeps offering new modes that move the attentive listener through these unique zones, and does it while maintaining that top layer of Eno-esque simplicity. Back away from a well-packed track like “Rove” and it softens to a rumor. A Soft Circle is likely to get a number of repeat listens. You’ll want to go back and compare the low-volume, remote listen to the deep, focused listen more than once. And it stands up to the scrutiny. A great disc from John Sobocan.

Available from Databloem.

The place where the hooks and melodic aspects of post-rock get matched with industrial’s weight and force of impact, with the whole thing wrapped in some near-dark ambient and dusted with glitch, is the exact spot you’re in when listening to Dreissk’s engaging second release, “Edge_Horizon.” Kevin Patzelt takes his listeners on a well-modulated ride that can range from the piston-driving punch of “The Rising Tide,” which has the heft of Nine Inch Nails squared off against calm electronica, to the soulful, dramatic piano in “Through,” which also features glitch and electronic artist Anklebiter. This is a disc with several well-made faces. The dark, driving pulse of “Arc” begs to be turned up. This is a great pairing of the industrial side with an underlying work that falls somewhere between a Berlin School style and a big, cinematic Vangelis piece (whom Patzelt cites as an influence). When this track finally lets go of you, you may find that you’ve been holding your breath a little. “What Awaits” gives you pounding drums over long ambient pads, and “Waning Light” takes those spacemusic-worthy pads and wraps them around echoing guitar and percussion that starts off subtle and then grows. Throughout Edge_Horizon there’s a very nice dirtiness of sound,a gritty distortion forming a frame around the more straightforward sounds. The whole thing is shot through with a genuinely potent visceral feel–this stuff digs in and takes control. And in your ears, it’s big–deep, varied and packing a really sense of dimension. A great release from Dreissk.

Available from N5MD.

Although this mini-disc release is only two tracks and just over 20 minutes long, Korea-based composer Fescal fills it with vividly detailed drones. The tracks are inspired by a pair of Alexandr Pushkin poems. “Winter Morning” arrives with a base drone formed out of a processed organ chord (with, quite honestly, a touch of the bagpipe to it) and a drifty vocal loop. At times they pair nicely; at others they feel almost in conflict, and this creates an interesting dynamic as the piece moves along. “Winter Evening” comes across as the warmer and lighter of the two, and is easier to connect with. There’s a simpler grace to it and a more distinct harmony of elements. The contrast is pleasing. Two Winter Poems is a work of very straight-up drone; its shifts arrive lazily and make just enough difference to nudge itself into a place that’s just subtly different. Changes in tone and texture slide in under the radar before making themselves noticeable. The movement, or lack thereof, is appropriately hypnotic, yet a focused listen reveals a fair amount of work going on. There are points where the sound rises in tone to border on a near-feedback squeal, but it never crosses the line into being an unpleasant noise. For the quick hit this release is, that one slight shrug for me as a listener doesn’t detract from an interesting ride.

Kudos also to Fescal for committing to a unique bit of packaging. Each of the limited-edition physical discs comes with an illustration by artist Mark Coates, a small plastic bag containing bush twigs from which Korean traditional tea can be made (I haven’t made mine yet, but I will), a small photo of a statue of Pushkin and an old small age-old folk page booklet, plus some unique “extra whatchamacallits” thrown in for good measure. (Mine had candy and shiny metallic leafs.) This all comes in a small, well-made box, and truly adds a personal touch.

Available from Fescal’s web site.