Euphoric, introspective, and spine-tingling, Subdream's Beacon is an hour-long voyage into the poetic realms of progressive psytrance, and it’s dedicated to giving listeners a healthy dose of heartfelt goosebumps. The hair-raising melodies of this auditory astral plane wash over the body like a reflective river beneath the stars, a crystal clear mixture of meditative synths and colorful bass for the soul. This full-length release stems from the origins of classic 90’s goa trance, elegantly combined with the present world of synthesis technology. It offers an undeniable nostalgia with every note, while at the same time introduces us to a powerful psybience of textured soundscapes and spiritual symphony. Overflowing with passion and dance, this mystical creation provides the wonderful opportunity to dance the night away or fly off into dimensions unknown.
At first listen, The Practice of Love, Jenny Hval’s seventh full-length album, unspools with an almost deceptive ease. Across eight tracks, filled with arpeggiated synth washes and the kind of lilting beats that might have drifted, loose and unmoored, from some forgotten mid-’90s trance single, The Practice of Love feels, first and foremost, compellingly humane. Given the horror and viscera of her previous album, 2016’s Blood Bitch, The Practice of Love is almost subversive in its gentleness—a deep dive into what it means to grow older, to question one’s relationship to the earth and one’s self, and to hold a magnifying glass over the notion of what intimacy can mean. As Hval describes it, the album charts its own particular geography, a landscape in which multiple voices engage and disperse, and the question of connectedness—or lack thereof—hangs suspended in the architecture of every song. It is an album about “seeing things from above—almost like looking straight down into the ground, all of these vibrant forest landscapes, the type of nature where you might find a porn magazine at a certain place in the woods and everyone would know where it was, but even that would just become rotting paper, eventually melting into the ground.”
'Lost Masterpiece', 'Forgotten Classic', 'An Album You Must Hear Before You Die' - take your pick… Because 1971's "Occasional Rain" by TERRY CALLIER genuinely fits them all - it really does. A mesmerizing masterpiece of poetic baroque folk from this unclassifiable Chicagoan. Producer Charles Stepney's organ and harpsichord and a choir featuring Minnie Riperton lend a shimmering beauty to this 1972 recording.
Caterina Barbieri is set to release a sister album of her 2019's acclaimed “Ectatic Computation”. “Myuthafoo“ will be out on June 2.
Steve Gunn's Time Off was one of the great surprises of 2013. Not because it showcased his already considerable skills as a guitarist, but because he discovered his strength as a songwriter too. Way Out Weather, written during his global travels over the last year, is ambitious. Its musical architecture is more focused yet its production is more spacious. Gunn employs a larger band here – drummer John Truscinski, bassist/producer Justin Tripp, banjo player and soundscape artist Nathan Bowles, harpist Mary Lattimore, Rhyton's Jimy Seitang, and multi-instrumentalist/engineer Justin Meagher.