*Limited edition of 300. Includes immediate download.* Albums reliant on field recordings must occupy a very specific space: one that is familiar enough to relate to, but foreign enough to intrigue and bewilder. "Megrez" by the Oregon-based duo Nite Lite seemingly falls into this category, but the album's press release takes it one step further, teasing that what is phonography may be artificial and vice versa. Still, the foundation of "Megrez" is built upon what sounds like edited audio fragments of everyday life: a frog's throaty murmur, the whistle of a tea kettle, and a creak of a floorboard. From there natural instruments introduce themselves, lending a remarkable off-kilter quality to the album that allows, for example, the soft exhale of a flute to harmonize with howling wolves as if each is naturally part of the same chorus. Quiet, revolving melodies also appear as if accidentally stumbled upon, most recognizably with the tonal humming on "History of the Abyss" and the warbling keyboard line on "Equinox Reflections." It all adds up to a rather beguiling album that openly invites you to listen in, get familiar with your surroundings, and become enriched in unexpected ways. - Ryan Potts, Experimedia
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.