London-based "ambient jazz" ace Nala Sinephro steps up her game on 'Endlessness', playfully zig-zagging around an electrifying continuous arpeggio over ten cosmically interlinked tracks assembling decades of spiritual jazz echoing down the line. Fully transcendent material - essential listening for fans of Alice Coltrane, Jon Hassell, Sun Ra, Sons of Kemet, Dorothy Ashby, Laraaji.
It's Sinephro's boundless ambition that bubbles to the surface on 'Endlessness'. She was ever so subtly bold on her debut 'Space 1.8', sensing out a connection between ecstatic ambient music and contemporary jazz that unfolded with gentle, measured charm. Here, she lets her imagination run wild, weaving her historical narrative with vivid, lively threads from across the musical spectrum. Jazz, specifically the spiritual strain that Coltrane, Sanders et al cultivated in the '60s, forms the album's musical backbone, and Sinephro jumps off from that point, infusing familiar tempos with lush modular electronics, uncompromising angular rhythms and sparkling orchestral flourishes. Like Sun Ra's most mischievous work, it's music that betrays a voracious appetite for hierarchy-free admiration - Sinephro is clearly a literate listener, and her passion for sounds as they stretch across borders is palpable from the beginning.
So how might you connect such a wide litany if inspirations? Sinephro opts to balance her energy with a single arpeggio that runs throughout the entire album, using its relative stasis to provoke considerations about the album's central theme. If the concept is a way to show how the composer-performer is able to add new ingredients to an established form, Sinephro follows the concept aesthetically, refreshing her mode constantly while retaining a recognisable sonic through-line. Her inspiration is "life cycles and rebirth", and from track to track, she reconfigures the logic of a single core idea. 'Continuum 1' sets the initial pace with a waterfall of evolving bleeps and delicate harp chimes; fidgety drums and muted horns follow to help cast our mind through jazz history, but Sinephro doesn't let the track stagnate for a moment. In the middle section, glossy cinematic strings - provided by Orchestrate’s 21 players - intertwine with Sinephro's woozy synths and Morgan Simpson's 'On The Corner'-inspired tempo-fluxing rhythms and we're transported into a different realm entirely.
The hyperactivity continues on 'Continuum 2' as Sinephro obscures the root arpeggio in a verdant tangle of piano, horn and precise percussion that's queered by her giddy psychoacoustic processes. And the mood shifts completely when we reach the gorgeous 'Continuum 3'; Sinephro's arpeggio is hushed to a lullaby-like sine wave crawl that's woken up by her lively harp improvisations. Soon, she interrupts the mood with fusion-era synth jabs, bringing the orchestra back to add some cautious schmaltz that's repeatedly challenged - most obviously on 'Continuum 5', a brief interlude that sounds like Wendy Carlos vs. Blue Note. And when we hit the album's first big interlude, 'Continuum 6', it's a payoff that brings Sinephro's parallel universes together, coddling her hard-panned oscillations with brittle, upfront beats and Sam Gendel-like pitch-bent swoons. Study a little closer, and there are fireworks in even the album's most delicate moments: 'Continuum 8' is a clear highlight that distorts the album's logic with R&B smooveness, and 'Continuum 9', a rare (almost) drumless composition, cements Sinephro's commitment to early electronic music, pushing her synths into the foreground as the album waltzes to its conclusion.
On the finale, Sinephro fires every musical synapse, turning her arpeggio into swooping runs that duck and dive across itchy beats and Alice Coltrane-like ecstatic synth solos, and as it comes to a close, the chaos is calmed with a muted piano that's tape-fluttered until it gasps a final breath. Remarkable music.
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London-based "ambient jazz" ace Nala Sinephro steps up her game on 'Endlessness', playfully zig-zagging around an electrifying continuous arpeggio over ten cosmically interlinked tracks assembling decades of spiritual jazz echoing down the line. Fully transcendent material - essential listening for fans of Alice Coltrane, Jon Hassell, Sun Ra, Sons of Kemet, Dorothy Ashby, Laraaji.
It's Sinephro's boundless ambition that bubbles to the surface on 'Endlessness'. She was ever so subtly bold on her debut 'Space 1.8', sensing out a connection between ecstatic ambient music and contemporary jazz that unfolded with gentle, measured charm. Here, she lets her imagination run wild, weaving her historical narrative with vivid, lively threads from across the musical spectrum. Jazz, specifically the spiritual strain that Coltrane, Sanders et al cultivated in the '60s, forms the album's musical backbone, and Sinephro jumps off from that point, infusing familiar tempos with lush modular electronics, uncompromising angular rhythms and sparkling orchestral flourishes. Like Sun Ra's most mischievous work, it's music that betrays a voracious appetite for hierarchy-free admiration - Sinephro is clearly a literate listener, and her passion for sounds as they stretch across borders is palpable from the beginning.
So how might you connect such a wide litany if inspirations? Sinephro opts to balance her energy with a single arpeggio that runs throughout the entire album, using its relative stasis to provoke considerations about the album's central theme. If the concept is a way to show how the composer-performer is able to add new ingredients to an established form, Sinephro follows the concept aesthetically, refreshing her mode constantly while retaining a recognisable sonic through-line. Her inspiration is "life cycles and rebirth", and from track to track, she reconfigures the logic of a single core idea. 'Continuum 1' sets the initial pace with a waterfall of evolving bleeps and delicate harp chimes; fidgety drums and muted horns follow to help cast our mind through jazz history, but Sinephro doesn't let the track stagnate for a moment. In the middle section, glossy cinematic strings - provided by Orchestrate’s 21 players - intertwine with Sinephro's woozy synths and Morgan Simpson's 'On The Corner'-inspired tempo-fluxing rhythms and we're transported into a different realm entirely.
The hyperactivity continues on 'Continuum 2' as Sinephro obscures the root arpeggio in a verdant tangle of piano, horn and precise percussion that's queered by her giddy psychoacoustic processes. And the mood shifts completely when we reach the gorgeous 'Continuum 3'; Sinephro's arpeggio is hushed to a lullaby-like sine wave crawl that's woken up by her lively harp improvisations. Soon, she interrupts the mood with fusion-era synth jabs, bringing the orchestra back to add some cautious schmaltz that's repeatedly challenged - most obviously on 'Continuum 5', a brief interlude that sounds like Wendy Carlos vs. Blue Note. And when we hit the album's first big interlude, 'Continuum 6', it's a payoff that brings Sinephro's parallel universes together, coddling her hard-panned oscillations with brittle, upfront beats and Sam Gendel-like pitch-bent swoons. Study a little closer, and there are fireworks in even the album's most delicate moments: 'Continuum 8' is a clear highlight that distorts the album's logic with R&B smooveness, and 'Continuum 9', a rare (almost) drumless composition, cements Sinephro's commitment to early electronic music, pushing her synths into the foreground as the album waltzes to its conclusion.
On the finale, Sinephro fires every musical synapse, turning her arpeggio into swooping runs that duck and dive across itchy beats and Alice Coltrane-like ecstatic synth solos, and as it comes to a close, the chaos is calmed with a muted piano that's tape-fluttered until it gasps a final breath. Remarkable music.
London-based "ambient jazz" ace Nala Sinephro steps up her game on 'Endlessness', playfully zig-zagging around an electrifying continuous arpeggio over ten cosmically interlinked tracks assembling decades of spiritual jazz echoing down the line. Fully transcendent material - essential listening for fans of Alice Coltrane, Jon Hassell, Sun Ra, Sons of Kemet, Dorothy Ashby, Laraaji.
It's Sinephro's boundless ambition that bubbles to the surface on 'Endlessness'. She was ever so subtly bold on her debut 'Space 1.8', sensing out a connection between ecstatic ambient music and contemporary jazz that unfolded with gentle, measured charm. Here, she lets her imagination run wild, weaving her historical narrative with vivid, lively threads from across the musical spectrum. Jazz, specifically the spiritual strain that Coltrane, Sanders et al cultivated in the '60s, forms the album's musical backbone, and Sinephro jumps off from that point, infusing familiar tempos with lush modular electronics, uncompromising angular rhythms and sparkling orchestral flourishes. Like Sun Ra's most mischievous work, it's music that betrays a voracious appetite for hierarchy-free admiration - Sinephro is clearly a literate listener, and her passion for sounds as they stretch across borders is palpable from the beginning.
So how might you connect such a wide litany if inspirations? Sinephro opts to balance her energy with a single arpeggio that runs throughout the entire album, using its relative stasis to provoke considerations about the album's central theme. If the concept is a way to show how the composer-performer is able to add new ingredients to an established form, Sinephro follows the concept aesthetically, refreshing her mode constantly while retaining a recognisable sonic through-line. Her inspiration is "life cycles and rebirth", and from track to track, she reconfigures the logic of a single core idea. 'Continuum 1' sets the initial pace with a waterfall of evolving bleeps and delicate harp chimes; fidgety drums and muted horns follow to help cast our mind through jazz history, but Sinephro doesn't let the track stagnate for a moment. In the middle section, glossy cinematic strings - provided by Orchestrate’s 21 players - intertwine with Sinephro's woozy synths and Morgan Simpson's 'On The Corner'-inspired tempo-fluxing rhythms and we're transported into a different realm entirely.
The hyperactivity continues on 'Continuum 2' as Sinephro obscures the root arpeggio in a verdant tangle of piano, horn and precise percussion that's queered by her giddy psychoacoustic processes. And the mood shifts completely when we reach the gorgeous 'Continuum 3'; Sinephro's arpeggio is hushed to a lullaby-like sine wave crawl that's woken up by her lively harp improvisations. Soon, she interrupts the mood with fusion-era synth jabs, bringing the orchestra back to add some cautious schmaltz that's repeatedly challenged - most obviously on 'Continuum 5', a brief interlude that sounds like Wendy Carlos vs. Blue Note. And when we hit the album's first big interlude, 'Continuum 6', it's a payoff that brings Sinephro's parallel universes together, coddling her hard-panned oscillations with brittle, upfront beats and Sam Gendel-like pitch-bent swoons. Study a little closer, and there are fireworks in even the album's most delicate moments: 'Continuum 8' is a clear highlight that distorts the album's logic with R&B smooveness, and 'Continuum 9', a rare (almost) drumless composition, cements Sinephro's commitment to early electronic music, pushing her synths into the foreground as the album waltzes to its conclusion.
On the finale, Sinephro fires every musical synapse, turning her arpeggio into swooping runs that duck and dive across itchy beats and Alice Coltrane-like ecstatic synth solos, and as it comes to a close, the chaos is calmed with a muted piano that's tape-fluttered until it gasps a final breath. Remarkable music.
London-based "ambient jazz" ace Nala Sinephro steps up her game on 'Endlessness', playfully zig-zagging around an electrifying continuous arpeggio over ten cosmically interlinked tracks assembling decades of spiritual jazz echoing down the line. Fully transcendent material - essential listening for fans of Alice Coltrane, Jon Hassell, Sun Ra, Sons of Kemet, Dorothy Ashby, Laraaji.
It's Sinephro's boundless ambition that bubbles to the surface on 'Endlessness'. She was ever so subtly bold on her debut 'Space 1.8', sensing out a connection between ecstatic ambient music and contemporary jazz that unfolded with gentle, measured charm. Here, she lets her imagination run wild, weaving her historical narrative with vivid, lively threads from across the musical spectrum. Jazz, specifically the spiritual strain that Coltrane, Sanders et al cultivated in the '60s, forms the album's musical backbone, and Sinephro jumps off from that point, infusing familiar tempos with lush modular electronics, uncompromising angular rhythms and sparkling orchestral flourishes. Like Sun Ra's most mischievous work, it's music that betrays a voracious appetite for hierarchy-free admiration - Sinephro is clearly a literate listener, and her passion for sounds as they stretch across borders is palpable from the beginning.
So how might you connect such a wide litany if inspirations? Sinephro opts to balance her energy with a single arpeggio that runs throughout the entire album, using its relative stasis to provoke considerations about the album's central theme. If the concept is a way to show how the composer-performer is able to add new ingredients to an established form, Sinephro follows the concept aesthetically, refreshing her mode constantly while retaining a recognisable sonic through-line. Her inspiration is "life cycles and rebirth", and from track to track, she reconfigures the logic of a single core idea. 'Continuum 1' sets the initial pace with a waterfall of evolving bleeps and delicate harp chimes; fidgety drums and muted horns follow to help cast our mind through jazz history, but Sinephro doesn't let the track stagnate for a moment. In the middle section, glossy cinematic strings - provided by Orchestrate’s 21 players - intertwine with Sinephro's woozy synths and Morgan Simpson's 'On The Corner'-inspired tempo-fluxing rhythms and we're transported into a different realm entirely.
The hyperactivity continues on 'Continuum 2' as Sinephro obscures the root arpeggio in a verdant tangle of piano, horn and precise percussion that's queered by her giddy psychoacoustic processes. And the mood shifts completely when we reach the gorgeous 'Continuum 3'; Sinephro's arpeggio is hushed to a lullaby-like sine wave crawl that's woken up by her lively harp improvisations. Soon, she interrupts the mood with fusion-era synth jabs, bringing the orchestra back to add some cautious schmaltz that's repeatedly challenged - most obviously on 'Continuum 5', a brief interlude that sounds like Wendy Carlos vs. Blue Note. And when we hit the album's first big interlude, 'Continuum 6', it's a payoff that brings Sinephro's parallel universes together, coddling her hard-panned oscillations with brittle, upfront beats and Sam Gendel-like pitch-bent swoons. Study a little closer, and there are fireworks in even the album's most delicate moments: 'Continuum 8' is a clear highlight that distorts the album's logic with R&B smooveness, and 'Continuum 9', a rare (almost) drumless composition, cements Sinephro's commitment to early electronic music, pushing her synths into the foreground as the album waltzes to its conclusion.
On the finale, Sinephro fires every musical synapse, turning her arpeggio into swooping runs that duck and dive across itchy beats and Alice Coltrane-like ecstatic synth solos, and as it comes to a close, the chaos is calmed with a muted piano that's tape-fluttered until it gasps a final breath. Remarkable music.
Black 2LP vinyl with etching to d-side in printed inner sleeves. Housed in PVC wallet with flap.
Out of Stock
London-based "ambient jazz" ace Nala Sinephro steps up her game on 'Endlessness', playfully zig-zagging around an electrifying continuous arpeggio over ten cosmically interlinked tracks assembling decades of spiritual jazz echoing down the line. Fully transcendent material - essential listening for fans of Alice Coltrane, Jon Hassell, Sun Ra, Sons of Kemet, Dorothy Ashby, Laraaji.
It's Sinephro's boundless ambition that bubbles to the surface on 'Endlessness'. She was ever so subtly bold on her debut 'Space 1.8', sensing out a connection between ecstatic ambient music and contemporary jazz that unfolded with gentle, measured charm. Here, she lets her imagination run wild, weaving her historical narrative with vivid, lively threads from across the musical spectrum. Jazz, specifically the spiritual strain that Coltrane, Sanders et al cultivated in the '60s, forms the album's musical backbone, and Sinephro jumps off from that point, infusing familiar tempos with lush modular electronics, uncompromising angular rhythms and sparkling orchestral flourishes. Like Sun Ra's most mischievous work, it's music that betrays a voracious appetite for hierarchy-free admiration - Sinephro is clearly a literate listener, and her passion for sounds as they stretch across borders is palpable from the beginning.
So how might you connect such a wide litany if inspirations? Sinephro opts to balance her energy with a single arpeggio that runs throughout the entire album, using its relative stasis to provoke considerations about the album's central theme. If the concept is a way to show how the composer-performer is able to add new ingredients to an established form, Sinephro follows the concept aesthetically, refreshing her mode constantly while retaining a recognisable sonic through-line. Her inspiration is "life cycles and rebirth", and from track to track, she reconfigures the logic of a single core idea. 'Continuum 1' sets the initial pace with a waterfall of evolving bleeps and delicate harp chimes; fidgety drums and muted horns follow to help cast our mind through jazz history, but Sinephro doesn't let the track stagnate for a moment. In the middle section, glossy cinematic strings - provided by Orchestrate’s 21 players - intertwine with Sinephro's woozy synths and Morgan Simpson's 'On The Corner'-inspired tempo-fluxing rhythms and we're transported into a different realm entirely.
The hyperactivity continues on 'Continuum 2' as Sinephro obscures the root arpeggio in a verdant tangle of piano, horn and precise percussion that's queered by her giddy psychoacoustic processes. And the mood shifts completely when we reach the gorgeous 'Continuum 3'; Sinephro's arpeggio is hushed to a lullaby-like sine wave crawl that's woken up by her lively harp improvisations. Soon, she interrupts the mood with fusion-era synth jabs, bringing the orchestra back to add some cautious schmaltz that's repeatedly challenged - most obviously on 'Continuum 5', a brief interlude that sounds like Wendy Carlos vs. Blue Note. And when we hit the album's first big interlude, 'Continuum 6', it's a payoff that brings Sinephro's parallel universes together, coddling her hard-panned oscillations with brittle, upfront beats and Sam Gendel-like pitch-bent swoons. Study a little closer, and there are fireworks in even the album's most delicate moments: 'Continuum 8' is a clear highlight that distorts the album's logic with R&B smooveness, and 'Continuum 9', a rare (almost) drumless composition, cements Sinephro's commitment to early electronic music, pushing her synths into the foreground as the album waltzes to its conclusion.
On the finale, Sinephro fires every musical synapse, turning her arpeggio into swooping runs that duck and dive across itchy beats and Alice Coltrane-like ecstatic synth solos, and as it comes to a close, the chaos is calmed with a muted piano that's tape-fluttered until it gasps a final breath. Remarkable music.
CD in 4 panel digipak.
Out of Stock
London-based "ambient jazz" ace Nala Sinephro steps up her game on 'Endlessness', playfully zig-zagging around an electrifying continuous arpeggio over ten cosmically interlinked tracks assembling decades of spiritual jazz echoing down the line. Fully transcendent material - essential listening for fans of Alice Coltrane, Jon Hassell, Sun Ra, Sons of Kemet, Dorothy Ashby, Laraaji.
It's Sinephro's boundless ambition that bubbles to the surface on 'Endlessness'. She was ever so subtly bold on her debut 'Space 1.8', sensing out a connection between ecstatic ambient music and contemporary jazz that unfolded with gentle, measured charm. Here, she lets her imagination run wild, weaving her historical narrative with vivid, lively threads from across the musical spectrum. Jazz, specifically the spiritual strain that Coltrane, Sanders et al cultivated in the '60s, forms the album's musical backbone, and Sinephro jumps off from that point, infusing familiar tempos with lush modular electronics, uncompromising angular rhythms and sparkling orchestral flourishes. Like Sun Ra's most mischievous work, it's music that betrays a voracious appetite for hierarchy-free admiration - Sinephro is clearly a literate listener, and her passion for sounds as they stretch across borders is palpable from the beginning.
So how might you connect such a wide litany if inspirations? Sinephro opts to balance her energy with a single arpeggio that runs throughout the entire album, using its relative stasis to provoke considerations about the album's central theme. If the concept is a way to show how the composer-performer is able to add new ingredients to an established form, Sinephro follows the concept aesthetically, refreshing her mode constantly while retaining a recognisable sonic through-line. Her inspiration is "life cycles and rebirth", and from track to track, she reconfigures the logic of a single core idea. 'Continuum 1' sets the initial pace with a waterfall of evolving bleeps and delicate harp chimes; fidgety drums and muted horns follow to help cast our mind through jazz history, but Sinephro doesn't let the track stagnate for a moment. In the middle section, glossy cinematic strings - provided by Orchestrate’s 21 players - intertwine with Sinephro's woozy synths and Morgan Simpson's 'On The Corner'-inspired tempo-fluxing rhythms and we're transported into a different realm entirely.
The hyperactivity continues on 'Continuum 2' as Sinephro obscures the root arpeggio in a verdant tangle of piano, horn and precise percussion that's queered by her giddy psychoacoustic processes. And the mood shifts completely when we reach the gorgeous 'Continuum 3'; Sinephro's arpeggio is hushed to a lullaby-like sine wave crawl that's woken up by her lively harp improvisations. Soon, she interrupts the mood with fusion-era synth jabs, bringing the orchestra back to add some cautious schmaltz that's repeatedly challenged - most obviously on 'Continuum 5', a brief interlude that sounds like Wendy Carlos vs. Blue Note. And when we hit the album's first big interlude, 'Continuum 6', it's a payoff that brings Sinephro's parallel universes together, coddling her hard-panned oscillations with brittle, upfront beats and Sam Gendel-like pitch-bent swoons. Study a little closer, and there are fireworks in even the album's most delicate moments: 'Continuum 8' is a clear highlight that distorts the album's logic with R&B smooveness, and 'Continuum 9', a rare (almost) drumless composition, cements Sinephro's commitment to early electronic music, pushing her synths into the foreground as the album waltzes to its conclusion.
On the finale, Sinephro fires every musical synapse, turning her arpeggio into swooping runs that duck and dive across itchy beats and Alice Coltrane-like ecstatic synth solos, and as it comes to a close, the chaos is calmed with a muted piano that's tape-fluttered until it gasps a final breath. Remarkable music.