quête:windswept

A gentle descent into washed out shoegaze memories, swallowed by windswept drones and distortion.
March 2020, lockdown No. 1 ''I don't believe that this music was actually created by myself. In fact isolation established the environment for its appearance.
Instead of thinking about music, as i went pacing the floor, I fell to counting my footsteps until I felt about to go mad.
A body needs at least three points of support, not in a straight line, to fix its position.
A body does not tip over when the force holding it upright in place is stronger than the force pushing it over. Lawfulness of the material.''
(She Was A Visitor, November 2020)

When Upset The Rhythm released Normil Hawaiians’ lost album ‘Return Of The Ranters’ back in 2015, the band members got back in touch with each other after a 30 year break and starting playing music together again. Out of this the group played a launch show for the album and followed that up with more concerts, including an appearance at Supernormal, a residency at the Edinburgh Festival, gigs at Cafe OTO and supporting Richard Dawson in London too. They even recently toured Greece in support of having all three of their renowned exploratory post-punk albums finally back in print.

Throughout this time, Normil Hawaiians revisited their original songs for these live performances. However for a group always so interested in evolving their sound and seeking nuance, it comes as no surprise that they shirked the idea of a faithful retread of old material in favour of reimagining their songs. The group experimented by pushing their songs into new inventive dimensions, still progressive at heart, but now imbued with a cosmic uncanny. A cinematic, even pastoral approach that was always quietly present has come to the fore. The quaint weirdness of folk song, the humanity of communal practice and the group’s ecological mindedness have all found a place in Normil Hawaiians’ current sound world. With this conducive atmosphere brewing, the band’s first new songs in decades started to emerge.
Being far-flung across the UK, the Family Hawaii encamped to Tayinloan, a small village on the west coast of the Kintyre peninsula in Scotland with the intention of recording new music. They set up their own studio in an isolated, windswept house overlooking the sea and started the tape rolling. Noel Blanden from the band explains how the spirit of the location was such an inspiration to the group during this initial recording session: “Our time immersed in the place and the unique energy it generated in us allowed us to write ‘In The Stone’. It goes right back to our first album, this need to document experience before it passes over and eludes us. We were grabbing at the musical ether and letting it shape itself through the band.” From loose, improvised sessions and reflective periods of listening in Tayinloan, Normil Hawaiians captured the moment. ‘In The Stone’ is a motorik thrill of distorted guitars, locked rhythms and morphic resonance. Guy Smith is joined by Zinta Egle on vocals, skilfully sharing lyrics informed by Alan Garner and Nigel Kneale’s ideas around recurring events being linked to place and historical artefact;  a kind of residual haunting known as ‘Stone Tape’ theory. In keeping with the context of the song, sounds from several previous live recordings of the track were woven into its present being. Flipside ‘Where is Living?’ is a decidedly more delicate affair of questioning lyrics and eerie traces, droning strings and impressions smudged. This resultant 7” is a tantalising glimpse of Normil Hawaiians now, an echo from the past, an echo from the future.

As electronic musician Lorenz Brunner sketched his vision for the first Recondite full-length on Ghostly in five years he took a step back to assess who and where he was as an artist. 2013’s Hinterland accelerated a progression — he’s since been touring around the world and releasing music with labels such as Hotflush and his own Plangent Records — yet, for him, the album cast a shadow of pressure that widened over time. As with most art forms, perhaps especially music, there is an expectation to change, to creatively pivot elsewhere with each project. After careful consideration, Brunner rejects this notion with his new work, opting alternately to use the icy Hinterland as an aesthetic and tonal template for a like-minded map of evocative compositions aptly titled after the German word “stillstand,” now presented as Dwell.

“I am coherent with what I do, even if I’m not reinventing myself,” Brunner says contentedly. In regards to the album title, he adds, “It’s like when you’re on a hike and you stop and look at the scenery; you may know which path you want to go next but right now you are dwelling.” The title also doubles as a reference to everyday domestic life, a restorative haven for Brunner between tours. Like Hinterland, he incorporates a subtle range of field recordings to intensify the textural atmosphere. While he worked at home on “Mirror Games,” Brunner noticed the buzz coming from across the room, where his wife was using an electric toothbrush, naturally harmonized with the track. He decided to push that frequency further and record the device directly, syncing vibrations for added urgency across the propulsive piece as well as parts of the ambient “Interlude 2.”

Windswept, moody, and melodic, moments on Dwell linger with emotional resonance. The title track sends an eerie synth loop through a field of techno kicks. The beats recede for a breather four minutes in as if to survey the surroundings. If Brunner pivots anywhere — possibly just a new perspective afforded by being confidently stationary in his craft — it’s by leaning more into hip-hop structures. He’s an avid rap fan and his love for those production techniques is notably present on “Nobilia,” a queasy shuffler (titled in reference to the Super Nintendo game Secret of Evermore), “Interlude 1,” which skitters in lockstep with contemplative synth chords, and “Surface,” an isolatory, ruminative sequence. The closer “Moon Pearl” soothes and shimmers like its namesake, a cherished gem in The Legend of Zelda series that allows carriers of the gem to retain their shape and essence in the Dark World.

In an era where constant reinvention and highly self-reflexive brand awareness reigns supreme in the music industry, Brunner as Recondite does something many artists try to avoid, he dwells in his own established identity, one that has garnered him a devoted fanbase. His murky electronic productions, built around mirage-like pads and clipped drum programming, have proven to be highly functional and spectrally enveloping; Dwell is not a return to form, it is a further study of the shapes, it is the modes, and the structures Brunner has trademarked.

As electronic musician Lorenz Brunner sketched his vision for the first Recondite full-length on Ghostly in five years he took a step back to assess who and where he was as an artist. 2013’s Hinterland accelerated a progression — he’s since been touring around the world and releasing music with labels such as Hotflush and his own Plangent Records — yet, for him, the album cast a shadow of pressure that widened over time. As with most art forms, perhaps especially music, there is an expectation to change, to creatively pivot elsewhere with each project. After careful consideration, Brunner rejects this notion with his new work, opting alternately to use the icy Hinterland as an aesthetic and tonal template for a like-minded map of evocative compositions aptly titled after the German word “stillstand,” now presented as Dwell.

“I am coherent with what I do, even if I’m not reinventing myself,” Brunner says contentedly. In regards to the album title, he adds, “It’s like when you’re on a hike and you stop and look at the scenery; you may know which path you want to go next but right now you are dwelling.” The title also doubles as a reference to everyday domestic life, a restorative haven for Brunner between tours. Like Hinterland, he incorporates a subtle range of field recordings to intensify the textural atmosphere. While he worked at home on “Mirror Games,” Brunner noticed the buzz coming from across the room, where his wife was using an electric toothbrush, naturally harmonized with the track. He decided to push that frequency further and record the device directly, syncing vibrations for added urgency across the propulsive piece as well as parts of the ambient “Interlude 2.”

Windswept, moody, and melodic, moments on Dwell linger with emotional resonance. The title track sends an eerie synth loop through a field of techno kicks. The beats recede for a breather four minutes in as if to survey the surroundings. If Brunner pivots anywhere — possibly just a new perspective afforded by being confidently stationary in his craft — it’s by leaning more into hip-hop structures. He’s an avid rap fan and his love for those production techniques is notably present on “Nobilia,” a queasy shuffler (titled in reference to the Super Nintendo game Secret of Evermore), “Interlude 1,” which skitters in lockstep with contemplative synth chords, and “Surface,” an isolatory, ruminative sequence. The closer “Moon Pearl” soothes and shimmers like its namesake, a cherished gem in The Legend of Zelda series that allows carriers of the gem to retain their shape and essence in the Dark World.

In an era where constant reinvention and highly self-reflexive brand awareness reigns supreme in the music industry, Brunner as Recondite does something many artists try to avoid, he dwells in his own established identity, one that has garnered him a devoted fanbase. His murky electronic productions, built around mirage-like pads and clipped drum programming, have proven to be highly functional and spectrally enveloping; Dwell is not a return to form, it is a further study of the shapes, it is the modes, and the structures Brunner has trademarked.

As electronic musician Lorenz Brunner sketched his vision for the first Recondite full-length on Ghostly in five years he took a step back to assess who and where he was as an artist. 2013's Hinterland accelerated a progression he's since been touring around the world and releasing music with labels such as Hotflush and his own Plangent Records. His new album uses the icy Hinterland as an aesthetic and tonal template for a like-minded map of evocative compositions aptly titled after the German word "stillstand," now presented as Dwell. Windswept, moody, and melodic, moments on Dwell linger with emotional resonance. The title track sends an eerie synth loop through a field of techno kicks. The beats recede for a breather four minutes in as if to survey the surroundings. If Brunner pivots anywhere - possibly just a new perspective afforded by being confidently stationary in his craft - it's by leaning more into hip-hop structures. He's an avid rap fan and his love for those production techniques is notably present on "Nobilia," a queasy shuffler (titled in reference to the Super Nintendo game Secret of Evermore), "Interlude 1," which skitters in lockstep with contemplative synth chords, and "Surface," an isolatory, ruminative sequence. The closer "Moon Pearl" soothes and shimmers like its namesake, a cherished gem in The Legend of Zelda series that allows carriers of the gem to retain their shape and essence in the Dark World. Recondite does something many artists try to avoid, he dwells in his own established identity, one that has garnered him a devoted fanbase. His murky electronic productions, built around mirage-like pads and clipped drum programming, have proven to be highly functional and spectrally enveloping; Dwell is not a return to form, it is a further study of the shapes, it is the modes, and the structures Brunner has trademarked.

Industrial techno doom jazz meets Touareg percussion and mantric chanting

Soundway presents the unique results of a one-off 2018 meeting in Marrakech between Belgrade-based tribal/ techno/industrial outfit Tapan and the nomadic Touareg electrified desert-blues group Generation Taragalte.

Tapan is not an ordinary “techno” project, rather it escapes easy categorization. It is the Belgradebased production duo of 20/44 club resident Nebojša Bogdanović (Schwabe), and Goran Simonoski, a producer behind music projects such as Belgradeyard Sound System, Piece of Shh and more. Both have been active in the Belgrade music and nightlife scenes since the 1990s, and since 2015 have brought together their diverse musical experience under the collaborative moniker of Tapan.

While performing at the Atlas Electronic festival in Morocco in 2018, they encountered Generation Taragalte of southern Morocco, and recorded the initial music for the Atlas EP in an improvised studio on the festival grounds, followed by final production on returning to Belgrade. The result was the 4-track EP “Atlas”, a dark, desolate and potent collision of the electronic drone-jazz of Belgrade and the windswept, desiccated psych-guitar riffs of the Moroccan Sahara.

"It was the most beautiful summer of my life."

Memories — places, vacancies, allusions — are fundamental characters in Mary Lattimore's evocative craft. Inside her music, wordless narratives, indenite travelogues, and braided events skew into something enchantingly new. The Los Angeles-based harpist recorded her breakout 2016 album, At The Dam, during stops along a road trip across America, letting the serene landscapes of Joshua Tree and Marfa, Texas color her compositions. In 2017, she presented Collected Pieces, a tape compiling sounds from her past life in Philadelphia: odes to the east coast, burning motels, and beach town convenience stores. In 2018, from a restorative station — a redwood barn, nestled in the hills above San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge — emanates Hundreds of Days, her second full-length LP with Ghostly International. The record sojourns between silences and speech, between microcosmic daily scenes and macrocosmic universal understandings, between being alien in promising new places and feeling torn from old native havens. It's an expansive new chapter in Lattimore's story, and an expression of mystied gratitude. A study in how ordinary components helix together to create an extraordinary world.

Awarded a residency at the Headlands Center for the Arts, Lattimore spent two summer months living with 15 fellow artists — writers, playwrights, musicians, poets, painters, activists, curators — in a cluster of old Victorian military buildings on the Northern Pacic Coast. Days offered solitude, Lattimore set up in a spacious barn, able to arrange her instruments at will. Nights welcomed new perspectives. "Hanging out with a lot of accomplished artists with poetic ways of looking at the world was really inspiring. My heart was in a bit of a tangle after leaving Philadelphia. I was holding onto things instead of moving forward. My time there was a nostalgia detox, a way to press reset in a healthy way. Also breathing in the freshest air in America, straight off of the ocean, felt good."

Throughout the shifting locales there is one consistent companion Lattimore engages: a 47-string Lyon and Healy harp. The instrument wires directly into her psyche. Pitchfork's Marc Masters posits, "she can practically talk through it at this point, she's created a language." The space and stillness of the Headlands afforded Lattimore freedom to her expand her vocabulary, to stretch out and experiment with layers of keyboard, guitar, theremin, and grand piano. Lattimore's voice sweeps beneath the plucks and washes of opener It Feels Like Floating,' enraptured by the winding current, and reappearing in the second minute of the immense "Never Saw Him Again." The track elevates towards a shimmering apex of static and percussion before organ drone yields to signature halcyon utters. As with much of Lattimore's work, the track titles are telling, "Baltic Birch" is a somber windswept march that sways gracefully out of step, a remembrance of a recent trip to Latvia where she was struck by the abandoned resort towns along the Baltic Sea. Hello From The Edge of The Earth' is an earnest reection of Lattimore's love of the natural world, recognizing the thresholds of varying terrains.

The album's fth track borrows its name from Lattimore's favorite line in Denis Johnson's short story Emergency' from Jesus' Son. A character, lost in a blizzard, reassesses a disjointed universe, a clash between curtains of snow and angels descending out of a brilliant blue summer: it isn't an apocalypse, it is a drive-in movie, with stars hovering above the lot, off the screen, in the throes of the Midwestern storm. This mix-up is disorienting and existentially tragic, Lattimore's darkly strummed piece is a melancholic parallel, mimicking Johnson's elegant suture attaching two remarkably discontinuous spaces.

Micro-revelations, not quite as bright as torn skies but nonetheless enlightening, were everyday occurrences during Lattimore's residency. Living small days with small tasks — feeling little dramas within the arcadian universe of a national park — rendered her the sense that disjointed spaces can be interconnected no matter the enormity that divides them. It's in this elastic scale of perception that something as simultaneously simple and intricate as Hundreds of Days can ourish.

- Second solo album for Ghostly, past releases on Thrill Jockey
- Recently toured w/ Sharon Van Etten, Jarvis Cocker, Kurt Vile, Steve Gunn, Julia Holter, Iceage
- Mary Lattimore has been featured on Pitchfork, NPR, The Wire Magazine, and more

Hot on the heels of the critically acclaimed 2017 LP Windswept - which soundtracked David Lynch's Twin Peaks, Digital Rain is Johnny Jewel's latest album. Jewel is known for his extensive collaborations with film makers David Lynch, Nicolas Winding Refn, and Ryan Gosling, as well as for his work with groundbreaking musical groups such as Chromatics, Glass Candy, and Desire.

The 19 movements of Digital Rain are three dimensional beds of analogue warmth encompassed in raw electronic moisture. The result is an expansive pallet of soft color amid canyons of jagged oscillations. According to Jewel, "Digital Rain is a mirror image of itself designed to play as a singular liquid movement."

"After living a few years in a desert climate, I realized I was nostalgic for the constant presence of precipitation from every city I once called home. The sound of hail ricocheting off my roof in Houston...The floods crashing in from the Gulf of Mexico that would destroy my mother's house three times...The constant kiss of drizzle on the streets of Portland, and the morning rain against the windshield of Trimet city bus number 15 that I would ride home after recording all night...The snow buried row houses of Montreal where my daughter was born, and the rhythmic feel of ice cracking under my boots for six months straight."

"The desert is constant, and I love this repetitious ritual of Los Angeles so much. As moisture and humid weather seem more and more like a dream I once had or a fading memory of the places I fell in love with...I wanted to make a record without drums, without lyrics, vague in form. Each track morphing and eclipsing the next like the ever-changing movement of clouds obscuring the moon."

Cut By The Legendary Bernie Grundman In Hollywood. Recorded in Joshua Tree / Mixed in Los Angeles.

Marco Bailey's 5th full-length album, one that he personally claims to be the best overall representation of his sound. With seventeen tracks comprising almost an hour and a half of music, he has ample room to stretch out and to give listeners an excellent portable version of his potent live show.

By maintaining a consistently high-quality output that does not merely ride the wave of current trends, multi-faceted producer Marco Bailey has managed to survive through decades of mercilessly shifting adjustments to popular taste in dance music. From his beginnings in the late '80s spinning eclectic sets comprised of everything from punk to old school hip-hop, to his present interest in pure unadulterated techno, the Belgium-based DJ and producer has won over audiences with his keen knowledge of how to squeeze the greatest physical and emotional impact out of a few well-placed elements, along with his instinct for seeking out the most innovative and resilient kindred spirits (his impressive number of professional friendships includes artists as diverse as Markus Suckut, Jonas Kopp, Alex Bau, Edit Select, Speedy J, Steve Rachmad and many more). These combined talents have led to his formation of several different labels: MB Electronics in 2001, the 'limited edition' label MBR in 2013, and lastly the new Materia Music label begun last year. His similiarly named event series, Materia, has also been a truly worldwide 'state of the art' summit for advanced techno artists.



The full-length personal releases by Marco Bailey, which stretch back to his mid-'90s period as a trance producer, have been gracefully arcing and anthemic affairs composed of individual tracks that follow that same blueprint. He is now about to drop his 5th full-length album overall, one that he personally claims to be the best overall representation of his sound. With seventeen tracks comprising almost an hour and a half of music, he has ample room to stretch out and to give listeners an excellent portable version of his potent live show. Of course, an epic running time alone is not the marker of a great audio experience, but an epic running time in which one loses track of time completely is - Bailey accomplishes this feat by never rushing the payoff; by organically building up each track until listeners are fully immersed in his alternate universe.



This skill can be heard on banging, sweat-saturated tracks like 'Ash', 'Genetix' and 'Hasai,' but also on comparitively gentle pieces like 'Klauth' (which straddles the line between disciplined electro and something more dreamlike and weightless), or the blissed out 'Suoh,' which feels like a fresh snowfall in audio form. Low-key cuts like 'Rex,' driven by echo FX and other windswept sounds, form natural counterparts to busier tracks like 'Ruth,' with its spring-loaded sequencer attacks, or 'Reboot That Device,' which is ingeniously driven by a psychedelic organ whose sound evolves with various filter settings. Minimalist vocals are occasionally injected into the mix - i.e. on the 'The Darkness' - to impart a subtle message of constant, ongoing expansion into unexplored galaxies without and within. It's as good a definition of the artist's musical mission as any.

Some believe that the environment in which you make music - from the studio space, to the location itself - has a profound effect on the creative process. Immerse yourself in the world around you, the theory goes, and it will shape the music you make. Listen to Gorthleck, the third album from veteran downtempo alchemists Benjamin Smith and Paul 'Mudd' Murphy, and you can almost visualize the craggy, windswept and breathtakingly beautiful environment in which it was made. Reconvening after a near seven-year hiatus last summer, the duo headed up to the Scottish Highlands to spend a week recording in the surrounds of Gorthleck House, nestled on the shore of Loch Mhor in Inverness-shire. Earlier this year, they returned to the same venue, with its' stunning views of the tranquil loch and rocky, wooded hills rising in the distance, to complete the nine-track set. Certainly, the immersive environment and famously changeable weather seems to have inspired the longtime friends and studio partners. The album's epic centrepiece, the nine-minute Mhor', sounds like an emotional love letter to the body of water they strolled alongside every day. Its' undulating synthesizer line - reminiscent of classic Tangerine Dream and the Orb's A Huge Ever Growing Pulsating Brain' - mimics the slow ebb and flow of water across the loch, while Smith's shimmering guitar lines mimic the glint of sunlight reflecting off the surface. Elsewhere, the audio references are a little more subtle, but no less relevant. The hazy jazz guitars, twinkling pianos, rich grooves and fluttering clarinets of Nether' sound like the perfect accompaniment to a single malt whisky-fuelled sunset session at the water's edge, while the quietly foreboding aural textures, layered guitars and urgent electric violin of Enos' evoke memories of watching storm clouds gathering behind distant Highland mountains. The same could be said of Mr Coats' - a track arranged in steamy Mexico, and blessed with all the humidity you'd expect from such an excursion - while you can hear gale force winds whistling around the rafters on Dogwood'. As for Errogie', it's as bracing as a crystal clear morning in the Highlands, chilly, but hugely life affirming. The duo's previous two albums, 2007's Blue River and its' 2009 follow-up, Le Suivant, were both hugely evocative, but neither captured a distinct a sense of time and place quite like Gorthleck. Listen carefully, and you could almost be there with them, watching the sunrise and sunset.

Leisure System presents rising talent Will Ward's Interval One EP, the second in our 2015 GRIDLOCK series of dance floor 12"s and the British producer and DJ's most exuberant record to date. In addition to two prior solo releases, Will Ward is a member of the esteemed electronic trio Circle Traps along with Jack Wyllie and Duncan Bellamy of Portico. He has previously collaborated with the likes of My Panda Shall Fly and gained support from tastemakers such as Rob Da Bank and Gilles Peterson for dazzling productions that blur the lines between pumping house and windswept techno. The Interval One EP is a strong representation of that sleek sound, with tracks that are bursting with emotion and memorable detail. "Digital Design" is an aural kaleidoscope, with a shimmering melody line refracted in squiggly arcs next to murmured female vocals and resonant chords. It's a fittingly varied introduction, drifting between hot and cold poles. "Portion" features Circle Traps member Jack Wyllie, and subtle additions accrue to create waves of unease, while the melody line bounces energetically through a maze of ossified handclaps and buoyant chord stabs. Closing things out, the EP's title track builds from a woozy introduction to an ebullient peak, as if rolling out of bed and stepping immediately onto a throbbing dance floor. It's a cleansing and exhilarating feeling, the type of rare emotional response that Will Ward has proven himself thoroughly capable of creating with Interval One.

you secretly believe that all of the best dance music has an undercurrent of melancholy then you are in for a treat. 0.5, the debut EP from the Fascination Movement, doesn't skimp on either the dancefloor rhythms or the windswept yes-we-remember-New Pop romanticism. The Fascination Movement is looking forwards, not backwards: just because this is music that adapts the same vocabulary created by bands like New Order or early Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark doesn't change the fact that from the first arpeggios of "Just Pretend" you feel the shock of the new. Of course, you may be too busy humming along to the choruses to notice how slyly the band makes a classic sound fresh again...