More melodic feastings from the underside of the record store counter courtesy of the latest weekly round-up of essential ear gear inhabiting the Vital listening room, perhaps their most out there offering in a fair old while #116 is a weird ear delight that opens to the shuffling and head tripping woozy earth beat blues of Keda whose ‘swordfish’ serves as a masterclass in third eye tickling mystical dub which admirers of Ry Cooder should well drool over. More dubtronic loveliness heads up next this time tweaked in a subterranic variety with the teasingly brief appearance of tuner’s ‘prelove by bit’ mind you that could well be bit and tuner prelove, whatever the case some very chilled muslim gauze like work out is going on. If alien landscapes and strangely detuned aural apparitions are your bag then Matt Davignon’s ‘lepidoptera’ might fit the bill, eerie electronic etchings positively oozing in jazz noir ghost light tingles as were located in the coldly sparse depths of an ocean floor. Stranger still the remoteness applied to the minimalist drone scapes of Brgs whose skittering percussive patterns on ‘46’ may well find appreciative nods from the foolproof projects community. Disappointed to say it’s been too long since we had the pleasure of Celer exquisitely wooing our listening space and ‘Alagi’ hits the spot perfectly providing a moment of reflective porcelain carved quietly lulling beauty. Prized from a recently released EP titled ‘senor trainwhistle’, ‘pingray 2’ by the sand rays is a strangely becoming glitch gem amid whose dub dimpled detailing a celestial carousel emerging from the shadows of an eclipsing mass. Again strangely affecting is Gintas k’s ‘blind man tale 2’ which amid the distressed distorts appear by seductive shimmer of neo classical flotillas whilst somewhat touched by the spirit of Stockhausen, Michael Vorfield, Richard Scott and Frank Gratkowski collide to craft out ‘kurs haltend’ and into the bargain stray ever so close into the kind of sound spectrums once explored by Chris Cutler and Fred Frith. Up next the mysterious post mortem who appear happy hiding behind hulking walls of white noise leaving Masda’s ‘river going south’ to lead matters out to the close though not before tweaking the ear fondly with its bruised youthful sounding black heart procession like ache.
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