lost in a sea of sound

The land has an unseen electronic atmosphere. Like a blanket covering vast distances, a droning warmth lies beneath. As with all aural coverings, how do the sounds balance? Too heavy, the sound becomes uncomfortable and smothering. Without weight at all, thoughts drift away into the ethereal dreamland. When in equilibrium, the result is vierzig skizzen. Travels in public is over forty minutes of sustaining weathered ambient mistiness. Seven beautiful tracks, where the density is perfectly stabilized. Fantastic tones reaching out for consciousnesses to connect, while the rich humus of saturated drone provides foundations for all things living. As travels in public progresses through the composition, the sounds of strings and faint voices can be heard. Vierzig skizzen has lifted the haze just enough, letting the listener understand there is another level to these creations. The nearly opaque world eventually clears slightly, enough to discern human shaped figures in the breadth. Resi

This release is from a little while back, but is still available on cassette and well worth checking out. BICIKL was established in Belgrade in 2008. Harbor Tévas and Vyrash Karunos started sessions where they encouraged anyone to join and play with them. They grew in members, played live shows, lost people and added more. Like a bus rolling through time, everyone playing and enjoying the ride, some stops people get on or off. This cassette, Chertamy I Ryazamy was released by The Centipede Farm label in 2016. In an edition of one hundred copies, taking us to now. Nine tracks divided across roughly forty five minutes of worldly experience. A rich woven fabric of sonic anomalies held firmly in place with solid rhythms. Some samples, sinuous electronics, strings, horns, bells and drums, BICIKL lays out a huge assortment of aural armament. The most striking note, everything is perfectly delivered. The recipe for this composition has been developed overs years of practice. The sounds deli

Wistful crumbly electronics with drifting ethereal voice. Possibly an incoming transmission from a flickering dimension. Like ambient audio debris slowly cycling to shore with every set and swell in the blistered sea. Some frequencies ignite causing sharp shards of sound to pierce the drone like environment. Everything is in a dream like flux, where reality has dissolved and the vortex connecting aural worlds has stabilized for these brief moments. Hey Exit has begun to implode. Inhale pulls from previous mystic vibrancy, like a burning electronic furnace radiating for too long. The fire has dissipated, but a strange comfort still remains. Warm with slivers of cold emptiness finding their way in. The allurement of this EP titled Inhale, remnant energy tilted perfectly towards our ears. Thirty five minutes divided across seven tracks. The last track "Puppies" seems to break free from the smoldering chars of the songs preceding it. Maybe trying to stoke the Hey Exit fervor on

Finding ambient tones bending like refracted light in prismatic crystal cavern. The quiet emptiness filled only with the drone of consciousness energy and singular thoughts ricocheting through the void. The world, seemingly moving so fast, yet time flows like an advancing glacier in I Signori Oscuri. Massive depth of sounds moved across a millennia, vibrant details shimmer in the aural weight. When the patience of playing notes becomes so great, melodies drift in unobstructed. Landing on the sonic branches like birds resting from flight, the harmonies are both beautiful and foreign. I Signori Oscuri is composed with experience. Meditative qualities throughout, all cracking with hairline faults in a non fractal ambient dream. Six poised and balanced tracks reaching around the forty minute mark. Winterblood could be a sunless day on an extensive slice of frozen tundra, or possibly a hot spring continually carving unbelievable formations in the ice and snow. Somber tones giving way to p

A spit cassette with Zach Rowden on one side and Jarrett Gilgore and Ian McColm as XENGA on the other. The double bass by Zach entirely fills the first half of this thirty minute cassette. Low droning vibrations, almost mechanical at times, continually maintaining sentient quality that languidly breathes out. The bass surging with effort as if the musician has found the exact tone, causing the material construct to disintegrate. As this ambient curtain of heavy sonic flux begins to lift, Zach seems to hold back the instrument as it pleads for reprise. Xenga is so opposite from the fist side. Alto sax and drums played in a fifteen minute pandemic apocalypse. Ian a growing storm of percussion and Jarrett catching every beat with the sound hole of the sax. For musicians to thrive in the fringes, where music becomes chaos, it is truly amazing to see two connect so tightly. These sounds alone hold mayhem and sharp bites, but together they are there for each other. Balanced intensities fal

Sometimes the sonic fibers and cosmic ebullition solidify to create a brain numbing aural substance. Energy ripping through a tranquil medium, the cognitive process spinning like a planet's rotation in solar orbit. Peter Kris delivers a massive sound in a beautiful small space. Like a music box opening up to reveal a tiny galaxy, infinite notes playing simultaneously creating harmonies never heard before. These sounds connect across primal origins, music seemingly so ancient. Harmony having always been and will always be, Dutch Flat is a recorded conduit to the sea of molecules we exist in. I write this with a little bias towards Peter Kris. There is a quality to all of his music i am enthralled with. The patience and sparkling sparseness, creating sound imagery with gorgeous depth, a warm weight never heavy. Creative ingredients to exacted proportions, not sure this is a composition recipe but rather a unique ability. Dutch Flat is really solid and dense, planetary layers with t

A sphere of sinuous synthesizer reaching an infinite expanding spectrum. Yves Malone channeling the origins of synth and adding the weight most of it lacked in it's conception. Grapefruit lifting off and connecting the stars to earthly sounds. Together, this split cassette on the Jakarta label Tandem Tapes, is gorgeously balanced. Both artists offering energy from worlds we knew and will know. The Yves Malone side is two tracks clocking in around fifteen minutes. These tones revolve like opposite charged ends of a magnet, playful and serious, heavy and light, introspective and just completely carefree. Mr. Malone is in full charge and drives this sonic wagon with a Cheshire smile. The two tracks are an adventure from start to finish with a reminiscence of things we have heard and a shaken aural tonic of a future to one day be here. Rich complexity in Yves electronic weaving. Flip the tape and Grapefruit throws three more tracks at your consciousness. Penetrating notes emerging

Channelers mixing with my consciousness again. Sustained tones gliding down, flying in formation with my thoughts. Have i departed the physical world for the ethereal or has the higher plane of existence come to me? Slow Leaf Spells seams to live in the invisible world, where the material construct fades as unseen energy surges with love. Released in September by Inner Islands. Slow Leaf Spell was one of three very beautiful compositions in the last batch by the label. The other batch mates, Rainbow Springs by Sunmoonstar and Sea of Leaves by Inner Travels where previously described here on Lost in a Sea of Sound. Is the best saved for last? These three releases are very unique and not alike. They all possess meditative qualities, but achieve this in their own accord. Slow Leaf Spell could be the most tranquil of the batch. That is a tough milestone to reach when other Inner Islands releases are in play. The four tracks are over all to fast. Listen again and again as thoughts dis

This is the first 2018 release described for Lost in a Sea of Sound. The year is starting off with some excellent sounds from Mezzanine Swimmers. Thank you Already Dead Tapes and Records & Fire Talk for such a cool start to this year. Black Cat in Heat has no ties to genres or styles. Mike Green's project as Mezzanine Swimmers is a  fresh pulled dirty radish from the garden. Bright and vibrant tunes, glistening with the dense moisture of current civilization. Once consciously consumed the pungency of swirling sonic forms fires straight to the cortex. Mike Green has cultivated his own variety of resonance. Melodies crossing the creek on genre stones, touching one, then two, then none. Sing along, be destroyed and rebuilt, the dynamics are solid and substantial. Before you can describe this fluent motion, Mezzanine Swimmers is playing somewhere else. An action shot could be taken and recounted, but Black Cat in Heat is a mysterious creature. The good thing is, you will want thi

Sounds from Nagual seem to gently blow through the consciousness. Sustained strings dancing in time. Notes lightly clattering in a building upheaval of radiation. Clear III resembles a day in sound, slowly rising like heat in the earth's atmosphere, then dispersing as the sun moves below the horizon. Warmth is the feeling most imparted by Nagual. Like the friction from gears in a wristwatch, small parts moving in a hidden harmony. Faintly heard when the world is quiet, but working ever loudly when the mechanism is pressed for audio clarity. Energy in motion and moving forward, sounds rattle and fill thoughts with infinite wonder. Ian McColm and David Shapiro are the force behind Nagual. This is a really beautiful release from sound to vessel. Clear III is two six minute tracks, one on each side of an eight inch lathe cut released by Pidgin Records. Here is the website for Pidgen Records , this is Ian and Dave's label and everything should be there, also check their bandcamp

As the night creeps in and the distinction of vision starts to wain, sounds loose their point of recognition. The world tilts slightly towards mystery, normality always in question. John Freidel has created a recorded conduit, allowing listeners to explore the electronic cemetery. Each track another grave site of experiences, flowing with as much beauty as it can muster. This is still mildly foreboding, but the trance like qualities keep ears transfixed and consciousnesses connected. Entrancer is a behemoth of tunes on the verge of suspense and terror. The are moments crossing this boundary, but much of the time is spent listening in from the perimeter. Ten tracks clocking in around forty five minutes in length. The entire composition smoothly transitions from vintage music boxes to hazy beach side boardwalks. All twisted and joined together in some late seventies science fiction classic. Ghosts, aliens, government agents or deranged killers, theses sounds are the canvas for any numb

The sound from Grace Upon Grace fits on the pages of a well read book. Unveiling itself, tracks like chapters, Jason Anthony Harris as Public Speaking sparks perceptive listeners with both carefully woven melodies and insightful lyrics. These songs are delivered with the most precarious tone. Innocence with an up welling of emotion, the tracks seem to slip back and forth between tenderness and angst. With tight harmonies filling every moment, the entire soundscape is gleamed and polished. There is no disjointedness, just vexing and chilled fields in accord. This release has an interesting flip side, the same tracks with no vocals. The music on it's own seems to mildly jar the consciousness. With no voice, Grace Upon Grace plays like a rattling skeleton with out it's tendons. Jason's lyrics, even though coiled and always ready to strike, are the weight holding these tunes down. Without this balance, the melodies within this composition begin to tumble and break apart in fa

O man you put those funky looking rhythms in the grooves again. Now everything is bumping around in the brain. These are the melodies that should be in every ones heads. Recipes for the mind to transition, from a world making less sense to growing expanding consciousnesses. The only refuge from video insanity, unlocking the hereditary patterns within us. Like soluble fiber, these beats attract thoughts and will need full attention to digest. O man your making me flip the tape, i got to go deeper into the jungle, searching for the tribal cooking pot. The Neanderthal Is Running Scared is the second cassette by Namo described on Lost in a Sea of Sound. The first, was just shy of a year ago titled Only Human... Only Machine . Where is Namo now? Daily life on the planet has cooked his rhythms. This newest release has more moments of steady paced structure. When wearing the those bulky radiation suits, eventually you start to slow down . The body and mind trading work loads and this shows

Horaflora breathes sounds from the urban waste. Clickity hiss, sizzle and strum, poppity crash, your brain is numb. Can't this sonic montage be quiet for just one second? I need to think again... Raub Roy, weren't you a highlander, an outlaw? Oh... Sorry that is Rob... spelling ya know. But maybe Raub, you are a noise marauder. Stealing defenseless sounds when ever possible. Thankfully, like Robin Hood, you give them to needy minds, like this one. My understanding has grown with listening to Body Lag. What was once only noise has somehow begin to fuse together. So many details, i sit and listen with a blank stare. There are connections, binding elements from start to finish. An audio description of some disjuncture in wavelength upheaval. I am still afraid though. Hold on Raub, you are Scy1e too? Thought this cassette was going to balance out with a drone side. My defenses are down, Horaflora gave me an aural rufie, please don't let Scy1e violate my consciousness. I am co