The Sydney duo’s debut album treats the after-hours city like an old carnival rule, a place where the name can wait outside.
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The Sydney duo’s debut album treats the after-hours city like an old carnival rule, a place where the name can wait outside.
On Lovelight, Jessie Altman treats love as a light you can locate in the eyes, then spends twelve songs deciding which lamp stays on.
A Santa Monica singer who took an Air Force oath and a Berkeley seminar in the same season builds his debut around the moment a landing is refused.
On their third album, Reaven treat freedom as something that only shows once the wall has been opened. The dark stays in the picture.
The Chinese producer’s second album treats memory like a long-exposure photograph. Cars vanish. The lamp stays.
Faroese composer and producer Benjamin Djurhuus spent a long stretch of his working life just off camera. He mixed, wrote, arranged, and helped other records find their shape. He grew up around church music, then moved through folk, pop, rock and jazz until production became the job. By 2019 that work had a public edge. …
The Stockholm composer’s debut for Young is short, baroque, and bodily. Ten pieces, barely twenty-three minutes, and a rare colour pressed out of pressure.
The Kyoto-born, Oslo-based composer’s seventh album treats electronic form as a votive object. Nine tracks hang where a wooden plaque would go.
On his Seoul-made DIY album, Insub Yoon builds a long instrumental weather system and lets a voice arrive only after the landscape has done the speaking.
The Polish-born Edinburgh cellist’s debut solo album treats improvisation as a way of living. Memory, migration and inherited song keep changing direction.
