Midnight Colours (Remastered)
Originally released on cassette back in 2018, Rafael Anton Irisarri's "sonic interpretation of the Doomsday Clock" has finally been remastered by Stephan Mathieu and given a vinyl pressing. You should know what to expect by now: grumbly, Fennesz-like textures, gaseous pads and gorgeous, Biosphere-style, baroque orchestrals.
Irisarri recorded 'Midnight Colours' in 2017, when the Doomsday Clock was set at 2.5 minutes to midnight, and is steeped in the perplexed anxiety of an age fraught with existential dread. And although plenty has happened since then, the album's tensions are only more relevant now. The New York-based ambient veteran imagines his fears in widescreen, laying out his sonic blueprint on 'The Clock' with smeared washes of guitar and groaning, distorted wails. He uses the concept to explore temporality in music, freezing time and decomposing his sounds so they're harder to place historically. On 'Oh Paris, We Are Fucked', his granulated echoes and wax cylinder chug reminds us of Akira Rabelais' 'À la recherche du temps perdu' or the Caretaker's notorious memory studies. But where his peers have kept their references broadly on the surface, Irisarri shrouds everything in silt, making his conclusions more opaque, at least at first.
Crackle haunts 'Every Scene Fades', interrupting a barely-audible beat and tentatively bowed strings. There's a vapour trail of the dub techno Irissari makes via his The Sight Below project in the background somewhere, but he holds back from making any grand gestures; it's subtle, painterly stuff - self-described "ambient" music that's not afraid of its relative passivity. When Irisarri leans into the genre he hits his stride; 'Drifting' is the album's most generous track and its most affecting, almost nine minutes of fuzzy, figurative dream drone that's provided with a shot of adrenaline by its Lawrence English or Ben Frost-influenced amp-fried sonics. The distant memory of formative shoegazers like MBV and Slowdive is palpable, and Irisarri brings us into the present by amplifying the disquiet, reaching towards disaster.
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Originally released on cassette back in 2018, Rafael Anton Irisarri's "sonic interpretation of the Doomsday Clock" has finally been remastered by Stephan Mathieu and given a vinyl pressing. You should know what to expect by now: grumbly, Fennesz-like textures, gaseous pads and gorgeous, Biosphere-style, baroque orchestrals.
Irisarri recorded 'Midnight Colours' in 2017, when the Doomsday Clock was set at 2.5 minutes to midnight, and is steeped in the perplexed anxiety of an age fraught with existential dread. And although plenty has happened since then, the album's tensions are only more relevant now. The New York-based ambient veteran imagines his fears in widescreen, laying out his sonic blueprint on 'The Clock' with smeared washes of guitar and groaning, distorted wails. He uses the concept to explore temporality in music, freezing time and decomposing his sounds so they're harder to place historically. On 'Oh Paris, We Are Fucked', his granulated echoes and wax cylinder chug reminds us of Akira Rabelais' 'À la recherche du temps perdu' or the Caretaker's notorious memory studies. But where his peers have kept their references broadly on the surface, Irisarri shrouds everything in silt, making his conclusions more opaque, at least at first.
Crackle haunts 'Every Scene Fades', interrupting a barely-audible beat and tentatively bowed strings. There's a vapour trail of the dub techno Irissari makes via his The Sight Below project in the background somewhere, but he holds back from making any grand gestures; it's subtle, painterly stuff - self-described "ambient" music that's not afraid of its relative passivity. When Irisarri leans into the genre he hits his stride; 'Drifting' is the album's most generous track and its most affecting, almost nine minutes of fuzzy, figurative dream drone that's provided with a shot of adrenaline by its Lawrence English or Ben Frost-influenced amp-fried sonics. The distant memory of formative shoegazers like MBV and Slowdive is palpable, and Irisarri brings us into the present by amplifying the disquiet, reaching towards disaster.
Originally released on cassette back in 2018, Rafael Anton Irisarri's "sonic interpretation of the Doomsday Clock" has finally been remastered by Stephan Mathieu and given a vinyl pressing. You should know what to expect by now: grumbly, Fennesz-like textures, gaseous pads and gorgeous, Biosphere-style, baroque orchestrals.
Irisarri recorded 'Midnight Colours' in 2017, when the Doomsday Clock was set at 2.5 minutes to midnight, and is steeped in the perplexed anxiety of an age fraught with existential dread. And although plenty has happened since then, the album's tensions are only more relevant now. The New York-based ambient veteran imagines his fears in widescreen, laying out his sonic blueprint on 'The Clock' with smeared washes of guitar and groaning, distorted wails. He uses the concept to explore temporality in music, freezing time and decomposing his sounds so they're harder to place historically. On 'Oh Paris, We Are Fucked', his granulated echoes and wax cylinder chug reminds us of Akira Rabelais' 'À la recherche du temps perdu' or the Caretaker's notorious memory studies. But where his peers have kept their references broadly on the surface, Irisarri shrouds everything in silt, making his conclusions more opaque, at least at first.
Crackle haunts 'Every Scene Fades', interrupting a barely-audible beat and tentatively bowed strings. There's a vapour trail of the dub techno Irissari makes via his The Sight Below project in the background somewhere, but he holds back from making any grand gestures; it's subtle, painterly stuff - self-described "ambient" music that's not afraid of its relative passivity. When Irisarri leans into the genre he hits his stride; 'Drifting' is the album's most generous track and its most affecting, almost nine minutes of fuzzy, figurative dream drone that's provided with a shot of adrenaline by its Lawrence English or Ben Frost-influenced amp-fried sonics. The distant memory of formative shoegazers like MBV and Slowdive is palpable, and Irisarri brings us into the present by amplifying the disquiet, reaching towards disaster.
Originally released on cassette back in 2018, Rafael Anton Irisarri's "sonic interpretation of the Doomsday Clock" has finally been remastered by Stephan Mathieu and given a vinyl pressing. You should know what to expect by now: grumbly, Fennesz-like textures, gaseous pads and gorgeous, Biosphere-style, baroque orchestrals.
Irisarri recorded 'Midnight Colours' in 2017, when the Doomsday Clock was set at 2.5 minutes to midnight, and is steeped in the perplexed anxiety of an age fraught with existential dread. And although plenty has happened since then, the album's tensions are only more relevant now. The New York-based ambient veteran imagines his fears in widescreen, laying out his sonic blueprint on 'The Clock' with smeared washes of guitar and groaning, distorted wails. He uses the concept to explore temporality in music, freezing time and decomposing his sounds so they're harder to place historically. On 'Oh Paris, We Are Fucked', his granulated echoes and wax cylinder chug reminds us of Akira Rabelais' 'À la recherche du temps perdu' or the Caretaker's notorious memory studies. But where his peers have kept their references broadly on the surface, Irisarri shrouds everything in silt, making his conclusions more opaque, at least at first.
Crackle haunts 'Every Scene Fades', interrupting a barely-audible beat and tentatively bowed strings. There's a vapour trail of the dub techno Irissari makes via his The Sight Below project in the background somewhere, but he holds back from making any grand gestures; it's subtle, painterly stuff - self-described "ambient" music that's not afraid of its relative passivity. When Irisarri leans into the genre he hits his stride; 'Drifting' is the album's most generous track and its most affecting, almost nine minutes of fuzzy, figurative dream drone that's provided with a shot of adrenaline by its Lawrence English or Ben Frost-influenced amp-fried sonics. The distant memory of formative shoegazers like MBV and Slowdive is palpable, and Irisarri brings us into the present by amplifying the disquiet, reaching towards disaster.
Pressed on Dark Green BioVinyl. Limited edition of 300 copies. Comes with a download
Available To Order (Estimated Shipping between 7-14 Working Days)
This item is to the best of our knowledge available to us from the supplier and should ship to you within the time-frame indicated. If there are any unforeseen issues with availability we will notify you immediately
Originally released on cassette back in 2018, Rafael Anton Irisarri's "sonic interpretation of the Doomsday Clock" has finally been remastered by Stephan Mathieu and given a vinyl pressing. You should know what to expect by now: grumbly, Fennesz-like textures, gaseous pads and gorgeous, Biosphere-style, baroque orchestrals.
Irisarri recorded 'Midnight Colours' in 2017, when the Doomsday Clock was set at 2.5 minutes to midnight, and is steeped in the perplexed anxiety of an age fraught with existential dread. And although plenty has happened since then, the album's tensions are only more relevant now. The New York-based ambient veteran imagines his fears in widescreen, laying out his sonic blueprint on 'The Clock' with smeared washes of guitar and groaning, distorted wails. He uses the concept to explore temporality in music, freezing time and decomposing his sounds so they're harder to place historically. On 'Oh Paris, We Are Fucked', his granulated echoes and wax cylinder chug reminds us of Akira Rabelais' 'À la recherche du temps perdu' or the Caretaker's notorious memory studies. But where his peers have kept their references broadly on the surface, Irisarri shrouds everything in silt, making his conclusions more opaque, at least at first.
Crackle haunts 'Every Scene Fades', interrupting a barely-audible beat and tentatively bowed strings. There's a vapour trail of the dub techno Irissari makes via his The Sight Below project in the background somewhere, but he holds back from making any grand gestures; it's subtle, painterly stuff - self-described "ambient" music that's not afraid of its relative passivity. When Irisarri leans into the genre he hits his stride; 'Drifting' is the album's most generous track and its most affecting, almost nine minutes of fuzzy, figurative dream drone that's provided with a shot of adrenaline by its Lawrence English or Ben Frost-influenced amp-fried sonics. The distant memory of formative shoegazers like MBV and Slowdive is palpable, and Irisarri brings us into the present by amplifying the disquiet, reaching towards disaster.
Pressed on Black BioVinyl. Limited edition of 400 copies.
Available To Order (Estimated Shipping between 7-14 Working Days)
This item is to the best of our knowledge available to us from the supplier and should ship to you within the time-frame indicated. If there are any unforeseen issues with availability we will notify you immediately
Originally released on cassette back in 2018, Rafael Anton Irisarri's "sonic interpretation of the Doomsday Clock" has finally been remastered by Stephan Mathieu and given a vinyl pressing. You should know what to expect by now: grumbly, Fennesz-like textures, gaseous pads and gorgeous, Biosphere-style, baroque orchestrals.
Irisarri recorded 'Midnight Colours' in 2017, when the Doomsday Clock was set at 2.5 minutes to midnight, and is steeped in the perplexed anxiety of an age fraught with existential dread. And although plenty has happened since then, the album's tensions are only more relevant now. The New York-based ambient veteran imagines his fears in widescreen, laying out his sonic blueprint on 'The Clock' with smeared washes of guitar and groaning, distorted wails. He uses the concept to explore temporality in music, freezing time and decomposing his sounds so they're harder to place historically. On 'Oh Paris, We Are Fucked', his granulated echoes and wax cylinder chug reminds us of Akira Rabelais' 'À la recherche du temps perdu' or the Caretaker's notorious memory studies. But where his peers have kept their references broadly on the surface, Irisarri shrouds everything in silt, making his conclusions more opaque, at least at first.
Crackle haunts 'Every Scene Fades', interrupting a barely-audible beat and tentatively bowed strings. There's a vapour trail of the dub techno Irissari makes via his The Sight Below project in the background somewhere, but he holds back from making any grand gestures; it's subtle, painterly stuff - self-described "ambient" music that's not afraid of its relative passivity. When Irisarri leans into the genre he hits his stride; 'Drifting' is the album's most generous track and its most affecting, almost nine minutes of fuzzy, figurative dream drone that's provided with a shot of adrenaline by its Lawrence English or Ben Frost-influenced amp-fried sonics. The distant memory of formative shoegazers like MBV and Slowdive is palpable, and Irisarri brings us into the present by amplifying the disquiet, reaching towards disaster.
*Ships Friday* Pressed on Transparent Magenta BioVinyl. Limited edition of 300 copies.
Out of Stock
Originally released on cassette back in 2018, Rafael Anton Irisarri's "sonic interpretation of the Doomsday Clock" has finally been remastered by Stephan Mathieu and given a vinyl pressing. You should know what to expect by now: grumbly, Fennesz-like textures, gaseous pads and gorgeous, Biosphere-style, baroque orchestrals.
Irisarri recorded 'Midnight Colours' in 2017, when the Doomsday Clock was set at 2.5 minutes to midnight, and is steeped in the perplexed anxiety of an age fraught with existential dread. And although plenty has happened since then, the album's tensions are only more relevant now. The New York-based ambient veteran imagines his fears in widescreen, laying out his sonic blueprint on 'The Clock' with smeared washes of guitar and groaning, distorted wails. He uses the concept to explore temporality in music, freezing time and decomposing his sounds so they're harder to place historically. On 'Oh Paris, We Are Fucked', his granulated echoes and wax cylinder chug reminds us of Akira Rabelais' 'À la recherche du temps perdu' or the Caretaker's notorious memory studies. But where his peers have kept their references broadly on the surface, Irisarri shrouds everything in silt, making his conclusions more opaque, at least at first.
Crackle haunts 'Every Scene Fades', interrupting a barely-audible beat and tentatively bowed strings. There's a vapour trail of the dub techno Irissari makes via his The Sight Below project in the background somewhere, but he holds back from making any grand gestures; it's subtle, painterly stuff - self-described "ambient" music that's not afraid of its relative passivity. When Irisarri leans into the genre he hits his stride; 'Drifting' is the album's most generous track and its most affecting, almost nine minutes of fuzzy, figurative dream drone that's provided with a shot of adrenaline by its Lawrence English or Ben Frost-influenced amp-fried sonics. The distant memory of formative shoegazers like MBV and Slowdive is palpable, and Irisarri brings us into the present by amplifying the disquiet, reaching towards disaster.