A topiary of organic sound. Topos, place. And the ambient surrounds us. The topic: to pick up sounds in your old kit bag for survival; to keep the world alive by clipping and trimming, sculpting shapes out of its sounds. If we can sculpt sound, then we can type on clouds. Clouds are perfect typewriters, the opposite of skin.
Sound is organic even when it's the artificial reproduction of cricket music. Even in field recordings, when we are recording in the field, the field is also recording us, reminding us that we breathe in its microambience. How else could we copy infinity? Sounds assembled to resemble nothing like the world that comes from where they came from. There are webs and we below know they will always be unmappable mazes.
This music exists somewhere between sci-fi soundtrack and being inside a music box. It's an aquatic, underwater sound as if the ocean were a seashell (who could lift it?) and through it we could hear the murmurs of invisible whales using sonar to mirror the deeps from our own aquariums. Nite Lite makes us feel safe enough to experience how any night can be a jungle of the possible, and that the experience of listening is a kind of migration from solar to sonar sonata."
A1 Mythopoeic Imagination
A2 Amare Videre Est
A3 The Axis of Tao
A4 Equinox Reflections
A5 History of the Abyss
B1 R epeater Stations
B2 Springingtime
B3 Fire Walkers
B4 Participation Mystique
