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An ethereal, unresolved presence fading into the stereo field, Hilja breathes into life with a haunted synth line and self-sampling vocal hook that instantly creates an enchanted space. Hilja is the debut album by Glasgow-based musician Maria Rossi aka Cucina Povera. Named after a style of southern Italian traditional cooking associated with precarity and making-do, a philosophy of simplicity and stoicism that applies perfectly to the spare but beautiful music Rossi experiments with. Hilja's marriage of minimal synth, field recordings and the hymnal dexterity of Rossi's vocal performances creates a new language, sometimes literally, to be spoken in some mythological Fourth World we've yet to create.
Originally from Finland, Rossi brings an acute sense of space, surroundings, and practicality to her working practice, with each composition often relying on a limited sound palette to create deeply affecting messages which transcend language. Cucina Povera's power is to communicate purely, often down to the solo-choir nature of Rossi's multi-layered voice, an achingly beautiful instrument which has seems to have an innate spirituality in its grain. The tension between the means and the end is at the heart of Cucina Povera, the invocation of a kind of secular spirituality at times using nothing but Rossi's voice. Indeed there's almost a Dogme-like purity to the arrangements: Elektra is a soothing song based around the lapping waves of Rossi's wordless backing vocals and a simple field recording of stones knocked together. Kehoitus is completely a cappella, a haunted fairytale told in glossolalia, evoking a quasi-religious experience with very little.
For music often minimal and simple there's a boldness that belies Hilja's status as a debut. Rossi allows each word, each sound and rhythm to exist in its own space, finding its own relationship with its surroundings. Mesikämmenen Veisu is perhaps the most ecclesiastical sounding composition here, burbling water trickles below a virtuoso vocal, with incredible arrangements in several registers undulating above. A meditation to relieve hunger and restriction, it's a perfect summing up of Hilja, a music ambient but completely earthed, finding enchantment in what you have to hand, the realism of magic, the magic of realism.
First Press limited to 300 with hand-screened sleeves.

MARMO, a collaborative project between Christian Duka (Vādin / Amoenus) and Marco Maldarella (Sinestesie), was born out of friendship and shared passion for music-making. Starting off respectively as the electric guitarist and singer in a metal band nearly a decade ago, the pair have worked their way through various flavours of electronic music inhabiting someplace between ambient and dance music, arriving at their singular aesthetic on this, their second album and first for Utter.

'Epistolae' - Latin for 'written letters' - was created between London and Bologna during the COVID-19 pandemic, an ode to friendship and as a way to keep connected during a time of isolated separation. The album is conceived as one continuous musical experience, with each track flowing effortlessly into each other in sequence as is heard on the final cut you are listening to now. A veritable sonic journey, as one might say.

The outcome is an undulating collage carrying emotion as its common thread, with rich ambient textures giving way to bursts of percussion, simmering with shrouded whispers and spoken word, embossed with rhythms and borrowing influences from downtempo, dub, breaks, techno and tribal electronica.

'Epistolae' is available on limited vinyl and digital formats, mastered & Cut by Anne Taegert at D&M. Artwork by Marco Maldarella.