Mind-bending minimalist rhythm trips from Brooklyn’s Robert Lowe, coiling up on the Paris-based Latency Recordings in the wake of sublime excursions for Type and DDS and alongside Jóhann Jóhannsson, Adult and Ariel Kalma in recent years.
A deeply intoxicating session unfurls in both parts, pursuing the patiently nuanced logic of his prior releases into the beautifully melancholic, elliptical downstroke of Magnatite on the A-side, and what sounds like a blunted Villalobos lost in a mazy nitrous fantasy on the marvellous Heart Of Sogguth.
Coaxing waves of drip-off dissonant tang into an alternately acrid, aqueous flow with the meter of a water clock in orbit or a deep sea hydrothermal vent spewing pure minerals under unfathomable pressure, Magnetite beautifully owns our attention on the A-side and is primed to send post-party sessions or stone circle meditations into the absolute lushest freefall regression to primal states.
The B-side’s upstepping vectors therefore give a (perhaps necessary) second wind, picking up the pace to a 111bpm bump soaked in spring reverb and riddled with hiccuping voices that appear to originate in or at least resonate in the listener’s own trachea with a potent tang whilst the groove quietly knots us in sensually elastic loops.
They’re blinders, both of ‘em.
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Mind-bending minimalist rhythm trips from Brooklyn’s Robert Lowe, coiling up on the Paris-based Latency Recordings in the wake of sublime excursions for Type and DDS and alongside Jóhann Jóhannsson, Adult and Ariel Kalma in recent years.
A deeply intoxicating session unfurls in both parts, pursuing the patiently nuanced logic of his prior releases into the beautifully melancholic, elliptical downstroke of Magnatite on the A-side, and what sounds like a blunted Villalobos lost in a mazy nitrous fantasy on the marvellous Heart Of Sogguth.
Coaxing waves of drip-off dissonant tang into an alternately acrid, aqueous flow with the meter of a water clock in orbit or a deep sea hydrothermal vent spewing pure minerals under unfathomable pressure, Magnetite beautifully owns our attention on the A-side and is primed to send post-party sessions or stone circle meditations into the absolute lushest freefall regression to primal states.
The B-side’s upstepping vectors therefore give a (perhaps necessary) second wind, picking up the pace to a 111bpm bump soaked in spring reverb and riddled with hiccuping voices that appear to originate in or at least resonate in the listener’s own trachea with a potent tang whilst the groove quietly knots us in sensually elastic loops.
They’re blinders, both of ‘em.
Mind-bending minimalist rhythm trips from Brooklyn’s Robert Lowe, coiling up on the Paris-based Latency Recordings in the wake of sublime excursions for Type and DDS and alongside Jóhann Jóhannsson, Adult and Ariel Kalma in recent years.
A deeply intoxicating session unfurls in both parts, pursuing the patiently nuanced logic of his prior releases into the beautifully melancholic, elliptical downstroke of Magnatite on the A-side, and what sounds like a blunted Villalobos lost in a mazy nitrous fantasy on the marvellous Heart Of Sogguth.
Coaxing waves of drip-off dissonant tang into an alternately acrid, aqueous flow with the meter of a water clock in orbit or a deep sea hydrothermal vent spewing pure minerals under unfathomable pressure, Magnetite beautifully owns our attention on the A-side and is primed to send post-party sessions or stone circle meditations into the absolute lushest freefall regression to primal states.
The B-side’s upstepping vectors therefore give a (perhaps necessary) second wind, picking up the pace to a 111bpm bump soaked in spring reverb and riddled with hiccuping voices that appear to originate in or at least resonate in the listener’s own trachea with a potent tang whilst the groove quietly knots us in sensually elastic loops.
They’re blinders, both of ‘em.
Mind-bending minimalist rhythm trips from Brooklyn’s Robert Lowe, coiling up on the Paris-based Latency Recordings in the wake of sublime excursions for Type and DDS and alongside Jóhann Jóhannsson, Adult and Ariel Kalma in recent years.
A deeply intoxicating session unfurls in both parts, pursuing the patiently nuanced logic of his prior releases into the beautifully melancholic, elliptical downstroke of Magnatite on the A-side, and what sounds like a blunted Villalobos lost in a mazy nitrous fantasy on the marvellous Heart Of Sogguth.
Coaxing waves of drip-off dissonant tang into an alternately acrid, aqueous flow with the meter of a water clock in orbit or a deep sea hydrothermal vent spewing pure minerals under unfathomable pressure, Magnetite beautifully owns our attention on the A-side and is primed to send post-party sessions or stone circle meditations into the absolute lushest freefall regression to primal states.
The B-side’s upstepping vectors therefore give a (perhaps necessary) second wind, picking up the pace to a 111bpm bump soaked in spring reverb and riddled with hiccuping voices that appear to originate in or at least resonate in the listener’s own trachea with a potent tang whilst the groove quietly knots us in sensually elastic loops.
They’re blinders, both of ‘em.
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Mind-bending minimalist rhythm trips from Brooklyn’s Robert Lowe, coiling up on the Paris-based Latency Recordings in the wake of sublime excursions for Type and DDS and alongside Jóhann Jóhannsson, Adult and Ariel Kalma in recent years.
A deeply intoxicating session unfurls in both parts, pursuing the patiently nuanced logic of his prior releases into the beautifully melancholic, elliptical downstroke of Magnatite on the A-side, and what sounds like a blunted Villalobos lost in a mazy nitrous fantasy on the marvellous Heart Of Sogguth.
Coaxing waves of drip-off dissonant tang into an alternately acrid, aqueous flow with the meter of a water clock in orbit or a deep sea hydrothermal vent spewing pure minerals under unfathomable pressure, Magnetite beautifully owns our attention on the A-side and is primed to send post-party sessions or stone circle meditations into the absolute lushest freefall regression to primal states.
The B-side’s upstepping vectors therefore give a (perhaps necessary) second wind, picking up the pace to a 111bpm bump soaked in spring reverb and riddled with hiccuping voices that appear to originate in or at least resonate in the listener’s own trachea with a potent tang whilst the groove quietly knots us in sensually elastic loops.
They’re blinders, both of ‘em.