Category: ambient music

Russia 1985-1999: TraumaZone – even the title makes you want to scream – is Adam Curtis’s Metal Machine Music: the one where he frightens off his fans by abandoning the trademark flourishes that made him so entertaining and instead goes all pared-down and raw and grim.

If you don’t know or remember what those trademark flourishes were, let me refer you to a cruelly funny pastiche which you can easily find on YouTube called The Loving Trap. This sends up poor Adam as a pioneer of the collage-umentary, a genre resembling ‘a drunken late-night Wikipedia binge with pretence to narrative coherence’ which ‘vomits grainy library footage onto the screen to a soundtrack of Brian Eno and Nine Inch Nails.’

True enough – but those expertly curated ambient tracks were very easy on the ear, as too was Curtis’s soothing voiceover which yoked heterogeneous concepts together and led you in all manner of beguiling and unexpected directions. I think his stuff is great and the fact that it is still being promoted by the BBC confirms how devilishly clever he is, because if the BBC had an inkling of what he’s actually saying it would drop him like a hot brick.

Anyway, TraumaZone dispenses with the frills. There’s no voiceover and no soundtrack. It’s just loads of film footage taken from across the collapsing Soviet empire in the dog days of communism. Some of it’s quirky: two men fantasising over a bottle or two about what animals they might keep in their imaginary future zoo; some of it’s sad and personal: a mother bidding farewell to her son just before he heads off for two years’ military service during which he’ll quite possibly end up being killed in Afghanistan; mainly, it’s just bleak.

But not boringly bleak – at least not so far. Perhaps its delights begin to wear thin after the full seven hours but despite the meandering nature of all this disparate footage I found each vignette strangely involving. The one, for example, of Kim Philby’s funeral. He’s lying there in his open coffin, surrounded by party apparatchiks, and his wife (the last of four) Rufina with her implausibly red hair buries her face in his. And stays there, sobbing. You keep waiting for the camera to pull away or for Curtis to cut to another scene, but instead it lingers on and on, to the point where you start having macabre thoughts like, ‘Hope the embalming is up to scratch and he doesn’t start to smell like Father Zosima.’

There’s some great material from Chernobyl, too. Volunteers having a last shared fag before scurrying off to near certain death pushing radioactive rubble into a pit. A team of scientists taping the bottoms of their homemade protective gear (which clearly isn’t going to offer the slightest protection) and then crawling through the ruins to investigate what has happened to the reactor core with the help of a camera attached to a remote-controlled tractor bought from a toy shop.

Reviewers more high minded than myself have said that as an insight into the history of the collapse of the Soviet Union it is flawed because the footage is too random, lacking focus, and the narrative (just the occasional flash of barely explanatory text on screen) too sketchy. But personally, that’s one of the things I like about it. It’s like a Soviet version of Martin Parr’s photos of the British on seaside holidays, part affectionate, part mocking, part mystifying. I find it refreshing to be allowed to make up my own mind – or indeed not to form a view at all – rather than have someone’s directorial opinion (usually with dodgy politics attached) rammed down my throat.

If you like TraumaZone I think you’ll also enjoy The Fire Within, part of BBC4’s often-excellent Storyville
strand, in which yet more reams of archive footage have been curated and shaped, this time by Werner Herzog. Like Curtis, Herzog has a tone and style which is very easily parodied. ‘Be aware, there is an essential truth and beauty in all things…’ some wag wrote in ‘Werner Herzog’s letter to his cleaning lady’, ‘from the death throes of a speared gazelle to the damaged smile of a freeway homeless.’

Yes, Herzog does like the horror of nature and he does like the morbid. So he was the natural choice to edit hundreds of hours of footage by French filmmakers Katia and Maurice Krafft who devoted their lives to travelling the world so as to get as close as possible to volcanic eruptions – until the sad, inevitable day when like Pliny the Elder at Vesuvius, they were consumed by the pyroclastic flow. I guarantee you will be transported by the mix of beauty and terror. The Kraffts did not die in vain.

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While Burial’s music may be famous for its foggy atmospheres and occasional ambient interludes, its off-grid kicks and resampled snares are what make it tick. As a schoolboy, he’d get kicked out of class for drumming on the desk. His self-titled debut album and 2007 follow-up, Untrue, were suffused with the swinging rhythms of jungle and garage. Later output revealed his love of trance music, with its chuggy, thudding kicks, while collaborations with Four Tet and Thom Yorke introduced a wafty house patter to his grayscale textures. Late in 2020, “Chemz” pinned eyelids back with acid stabs and crushed breakbeats. This obsession with percussion made January’s five-track Antidawn EP all the more surprising for its lack of drums—or, really, any rhythm at all.

Streetlands, which arrived unannounced last week, tugs at that same thread, proceeding beatless for three tracks totaling more than half an hour. His trademark re-pitched R&B hooks are also gone. Stripped of the textures that ground Burial’s music however obliquely in clubs or on South London night buses, Streetlands is more evocative of the digital, imagined lands that leak into his music via Metal Gear Solid, StarCraft and Silent Hill samples.

Where Burial’s early records could be interpreted as capturing his corner of London through a lens of sci-fi and soundsystem culture (music critic Simon Reynolds has drawn parallels between Burial and J.G. Ballard’s The Drowned World), Streetlands is less grounded in concrete and the contained chaos of the city. Instead it drifts, generatively, like rolling vistas in a video game, into untrodden environments of its own making—less future dystopia and more unexplored present possibility. Here, the familiar shrinkwrap of hisses, pops, and crackles is about all that ties the music to his habitually claustrophobic world; instead, Streetlands offers open plains of stretched choir and luminescent strings.

Chimes hang in vaulted ceilings. The Flatliners sample—“There’s something out there”—that opens “Streetlands” is shorn of the fearful sense the same words carried on “Loner,” imbued here with something more hopeful, merely tinged with trepidation. “Hospital Chapel” builds on a swelling choral loop, like whale song, that reveals more at every turn. A reversed, tightly wound vocal on the title track takes on an alien quality, not just in its indecipherability but because for how loudly and starkly it pierces the mix, streaking in like a call intercepted from another galaxy—or, in more traditional Burial lore, a pirate radio station cutting through the frequencies. The overall effect is immersive and uncanny, but ultimately lacks the emotional hooks required to pull you all the way in.

There are song covers, and then there’s what DM Stith did to R.E.M.’s “Man on the Moon.” Stith’s remake is transformative, turning the hazy guitar pop tune into an ethereal 13-minute drone piece.

Having dropped on October 14th, this remake is the upstate NY-based graphic artist and musician’s first release since his 2020 EP Waving 1-4. It’s also the first release on new NYC label Historical Fiction Records.

In terms of soundscape, this cover is oriented around a fluttering piano melody and an ambient assembly of synths in the background with ghastly vocals which enter and exit throughout the track. Stith slows down the tempo to a crawl, allowing each lyric plenty of time to sink in. His whisper-like vocal performance doesn’t stray far from Michael Stipe’s original take, emphasizing the subtlety which Stith aims for.

Reinforcing this approach, he eschews R.E.M.’s upbeat chorus and zones in on its wistful verses. He adds lyrics of his own, complementing lines such as “Mr. Andy Kaufman’s gone wrestling” with other abstract musings such as “D’Angelo’s Voodoo over first person shooters” and “Mom is sinking deeper into CNN.”

Stith’s atmospheric take on the song also gives new power to lines from Stipe such as “Newton got beaned by the apple, good” and “Mr. Charles Darwin had the gall to ask” which admire two people who changed the boundaries of conventional thought.

While drawn out, this cover’s sound is powerful, getting louder and slowly adding layers as it progresses. Eight minutes of buildup is rewarded in the song’s instrumental outro, which for several minutes repeats the same idea found throughout the track but with waves of distorted, torrential noise.

Stith repeats the lyric “let’s play Twister, let’s play risk” numerous times in his cover, and fittingly so, because he most surely took risks. He abandoned a revered R.E.M. track’s song structure, instrumentation, and didn’t remotely adhere to its pacing, but still made a powerful and successful cover that earned the acclaim of Michael Stipe himself, who said “DM Stith whispers with hypnotic, bone-deep authenticity, somewhere between Nina Simone, Perfume Genius, PJ Harvey and Leonard Cohen.”

DM Stith’s remake of “Man on the Moon” is a shocking and moving rendition that masters the art of the cover track.

I stepped out of my car on Congress Street the night of Oct. 11 to meet an astounding line waiting for entrance into The Rialto Theatre in Downtown Tucson. This was the start of my first concert experience as a member of the press. Although a little nervous, I confidently bypassed the fans eager to see the night’s main act, The Front Bottoms, and ducked under the security belt to receive my special wristband. 

I stood around for one hour in the barricade under the sharp blue and hot fuchsia lights until the venue filled up. Vape clouds billowed, couples kissed and I anticipated an awesome show.

The lights dimmed at 7:30 p.m. and young alternative artist Mobley opened first with a passionate set and a few unaddressed, but powerful, political statements. 

By 8:15 p.m., the crowd was ready for some Welsh spunk. Lead vocalist and guitarist Rhiannon “Ritzy” Bryan, followed by bassist Rhydian Dafydd and drummer Matthew James Thomas, set foot on stage to give Tucson a peek into alternative rock band The Joy Formidable. Since 2007, the three musicians from Wales have made up an alternative rock band and are currently touring as the opening act for The Front Bottoms.

The lights turned aqua blue and the band immediately started with a punchy, pizzicato song called “Cradle.” The crowd was immersed in the gentle rock ‘n’ roll of this piece, as were the three band members who became increasingly expressive as the night progressed.

Bryan took a moment after the first song to connect with the audience, sharing personal anecdotes about Tucson and mentioning that she makes frequent trips down here ever since moving to southern Utah. I got the opportunity to meet with Bryan over the phone the previous week, and I appreciated her humility and insightfulness, which was apparent in her performance as well. As an adventurous only child myself, she seemed like someone I could personally relate to, telling me she was an only child who grew up in the outskirts of North Wales, making her “a child of nature.” She was constantly building dens outdoors and climbing trees, which seem to be experiences that inspire her free spirit, especially when it comes to making music. 

During another break at the concert, she even asked the audience if we also “play the game” of finding the perfect saguaro while out in the parks like she does. Bryan told me, “Everything is connected” and that she can “find magic and depth in even the smallest things.” When I saw her and her bandmates perform, that passionate appreciation was apparent. Bryan, Dafydd and Thomas were all very in touch with themselves on stage and also connected to one another, creating a full-band sound with just three individuals.

RELATED: Concert Review: Shame at Hotel Congress 

The Joy Formidable soon followed with “Csts” off their most recent album Into the Blue which was released in 2021. Thomas got the crowd fired up with a solid entrance until Bryan and Dafydd entered intensely through crunchy riffs and wide eyes. At times, I was surprised by the contrast between Bryan’s mellowness while speaking and her fervor as a performer. I truly found it a joy (not so formidable) to see the music transform her. Interestingly enough, Bryan said she never really thought she would be a musician in her youth. She started off as a writer, however, and picked up guitar at the 8 years old. She described it as “two worlds colliding.” Despite finding more intimacy in singing, she says her roots always remain in telling a story, whether vocally or instrumentally. 

“Y Bluen Eira,” a Welsh song off their fourth album titled Aaarth, gave the audience a jolt. It was mysterious, seeing as it was performed in an unfamiliar language and in a whisper, which contradicted the repeated rich guitar riff of the chorus. With “Sevier,” or what Bryan called “a song about a shitty breakup,” the crowd was once again hyped and met with smiles from the band members themselves. 

The band not only produced a memorable sound but also has carefully curated lyrics. When asked whether her lyrics work around the instrumentals or if the lyrics come first, Bryan mentioned that the process is varied. She finds the importance of not being too formulaic because the variety will make for more dynamic writing. Like all artists, though, Bryan experiences writer’s block at times. She says the best way to get out of such a funk is to “not worry about it.” According to her practices, overthinking brings on stress which is a “total energy suck.” If you do things to take your mind off the writer’s block and let the moment pass, you will find balance once again.

Another track off of Into the Blue called “Gotta Feed my Dog” was one of the night’s topics of conversation. While bassist Dafydd provided a soft ambient tune, Bryan recounted the time of quarantine during which she fostered several dogs. She related to us by adding that it feels better to fall asleep next to an animal instead of a human sometimes.

In our interview, Bryan said Into the Blue “chronicles growth and feeling more free and confident.” With the inability to tour during the COVID-19 days, she finally had time for positive introspection, telling me that, as a musician, you “wear a lot of heads and are involved in every aspect of being an artist.” She embraced the “need to be shocked into a realization” and believes that getting past the moments that make you scared gives way to opportunities for positive change.

As the end of their set approached, The Joy Formidable delighted the audience with their top song “Whirring” from their 2011 album The Big Roar. For nearly five minutes, Thomas impressed everybody with a drum break accompanied by an intense flow of guitar and bass from Dafydd and Bryan. 

Since seeing The Joy Formidable in concert, I have willingly tuned in to their music, both new and old. They possess the necessary elements of rock — the energetic delivery, fast rhythm and blasting instruments — with an added indie flare of eccentricity. Bryan reminisced on her childhood, saying she avidly listened to the library of vinyls her parents collected. The most memorable listens for her were musicians like Van Morrison, Patti Smith, Led Zeppelin, The Smiths, Talking Heads and The Cure. If you identify with the sounds of any of these artists — and even if you have no idea who any of them are — I can confidently say that The Joy Formidable is easily lovable. Take my word for it, and check out their latest album Into the Blue on streaming services everywhere.

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Noor Haghighi is a second-year student exploring ways to harness her passions in environmental science and journalism. She loves wildlife photography and portraiture, fashion, music and film.

Reining in the RAM gluttony

Google’s ongoing efforts developing Chrome certainly don’t go unnoticed, considering it’s the most popular web browser in the world by a landslide margin, across multiple platforms. Still, that doesn’t mean it’s perfect, and while the new Chrome 107 release includes improvements like support for HEVC hardware decoding in videos, and laying the groundwork for simplified login experiences down the road, long-standing issues like its infamous RAM hogging continue. Now there’s finally some interesting progress towards doing something about that in development channels, with Chrome working on new tools for snoozing inactive tabs and freeing up system resources for other applications.

Earlier this month, Redditor u/Leopeva64-2 spotted a new Performance page in the settings menu (chrome://settings/performance) in Chrome’s latest Canary build, containing toggles for a Memory Saver and Energy Saver mode (via Chrome Unboxed). The former will hibernate tabs you haven’t touched in a while, freeing up valuable RAM. When Memory Saver is active, you will see a needle gauge icon on the right-hand side in the address bar.

A screenshot for the Memory Saver toggle explains inactive tabs reactivate when you visit them again. You’ll see a pop-up when you revisit a snoozed tab, revealing how much RAM had been freed for other tasks. You can toggle Memory Saver on or off, and define exceptions for websites which should never be snoozed, like YouTube if you use it for ambient music, or a live game score tracker. This feature could be a boon for some of the best Chromebooks hamstrung by limited RAM, or even older computers.

On the other hand, Battery Saver turns off high refresh rate features (smooth scrolling), visual effects, and limits background activity at times when extending the battery life of your device is paramount. For now, these changes are only appearing on Chrome Canary, but Google seems to have woken up to the browser’s hunger for system resources. Hopefully, all this makes it to the stable channel soon, and ultimately becomes available across multiple platforms.

Thanks: Nick

The energy in INTER_, Manhattan’s newest art experience, feels more like a meditation retreat than a typical gallery—and that’s by design. 

The experiential, multi-sensory museum opening in Soho next week invites visitors into a heightened state of contemplative awareness through a sound bath, light installations and aspects of meditation all combined with interactive digital art. 

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The adventure begins with a video describing INTER_ as “a journey that blurs the lines between you and the world around you.” The video challenges visitors to think about what actually makes up an experience. Is it a sight, a sound, a feeling, a thought? The audio questions how memory is experienced, encouraging visitors to step out of assumption and into the present moment before they enter the rest of the space.

Next, inside a massive dome dubbed INTER_sensory, abstract digital art fills the walls with images representing crystallization, connection and birth. A stirring ambient soundtrack pairs with 360-degree projections that respond to visitors’ movements. Audio cues offer a reminder to stay present: “You are here. Be here. You are right where you are supposed to be.” Similar to a meditative experience, the audio track also encourages visitors to stay curious, be aware and let the sights come and go.  

With the awakened state achieved inside the dome, the INTER_planetary section encourages an exploration of the elements of ether, earth, water, air and fire. The space features a lush floral archway, interactive light projections and a water installation controlled by turning crystal balls.

Other activities include a set of mind-bending mirrors challenging perceptions of identity, a gong room where music plays while the floor vibrates and finally a bright white gallery space exploring the collective memory of the experience.

The little details throughout the space make the experience truly shine. For example, the digital artwork is generative, meaning you’ll never see the same visuals twice, Scott Yo, INTER_’s CEO explained. As for the audio experience, everything in the upstairs of the space is presented in the key of C, while everything downstairs is in D-sharp to make all of the sounds harmonious, INTER_’s creator and creative director Pete Sax said.

A longtime artist, musician and meditation teacher, Sax started making interactive art during the pandemic with Chemistry Creative, then got connected with Yo and JOBI Experiential, a venture studio that founded the INTER_ to explore the future of experimental art. As creative director, Sax said he wants people to “leave with a simple connected feeling and a joyful feeling.”

Stepping inside INTER_ from the busy intersection of Broadway and Canal feels like entering another world, one that’s quieter, gentler and indeed joyful. 

INTER_ opens on Wednesday, November 2. Tickets—which start at $39 for adults and $24 for kids 12 and under—can be purchased here.

Danish indie/electronic music composer, producer and multi-instrumentalist Anders Trentemøller has been refining and redefining his musical direction since his indie-rock projects in the late 1990s. Through six studio albums under the name Trentemøller, along with numerous compilations, EPs and singles, and approximately 100 remixes for other music acts, he has progressed through indie and post punk to techno EDM and trip hop, cold wave and darkwave, and currently has arrived at a more cinematic and ambient milieu. Live, he revisits many of these genres and more.

For the current tour, Trentemøller the man has revamped his self-named band. The band Trentemøller now consists of himself on keyboards and programming, Icelandic solo artist DíSA (Dísa Jakobs) on vocals and guitar, Brian Batz of Sleep Party People on guitar, Jacob Haubjerg of Sleep Party People and Savage Rose on bass, and Silas Tinglef of 2nd Blood on drums. At the Hall at Elsewhere, Batz and Haubjerg also performed as a duo named Luster, a last-minute support act after Tom and His Computer canceled the tour.

Much of the concert spun on the tracks from Trentemøller’s sixth and most recent album, Memoria, released February 11, 2022. The album is Trentemøller’s longest, featuring 14 tracks, and the band performed more than half of it live, interspersed by older cuts. The newer songs especially seemed tailored for the stage.

The mostly-instrumental performance featured perhaps more vocals than expected, with DíSA provided feather-light melodies to some of the more ethereal compositions. These vocals were sometimes haunting in the midst of Trentemøller’s lusher soundscapes, producing a complex dream pop ambiance. Other pieces were more aggressive, often driven by the undercurrent of Tinglef’s motorik rhythms and Haubjerg’s pulsing bass lines. Throughout the set, however, Trentemøller himself at his keyboards and synthesizers was the concert’s dominant force, matching layers of synthwave with shoegaze, kraut rock and electronic pop.

Trentemøller’s performance demonstrated an uncommon bandwidth, drawing the listener to disappear into the hypnotic soundscapes. Although much of it featured danceable and even headbanging rhythms, the dense intricacy of this entrancing music transcended conventional marketing categories. The concert could be appreciated in both a theater setting and in a nightclub environment. Enter the mind palace of Trentemøller by either portal.

It’s a low tone. More vibration than sound. Insistent, but not annoying.

I slide my index finger across the face of my iPhone and the tone gets lower… lower… lower… and when I can barely hear it I select Next. A new tone starts. Slightly higher now. More Morse Code than vibration.

I’m taking a hearing test in the comfort of my home. A test administered by a Lightspeed Delta Zulu headset.

The 12 tones, ranging from 125 Hz to 12,000 Hz — first in the left ear, and then in the right — gather data for what Lightspeed calls HearingEQity, a new twist on active noise reduction or ANR.

In addition to blocking unhealthy noise, this next-gen Lightspeed headset is designed to actually boost sound levels you can’t hear well, a possible game-changer for an aging U.S. pilot population.

I have hearing loss myself — worse on the high end — and sure enough, as the test got into the higher ranges I found that, rather than reduce the volume to the lowest detectable level, I had to turn the volume up to even hear the tones at all.

The test complete, I’m given a clip of music to listen to, and I can toggle the HearingEQity on and off to hear the difference. To be honest, the difference was subtle at best, but the music did come across somewhat richer with HEQ on and better balanced between my ears with no differential volume adjustment.

What music, you ask? The William Tell Overture, of course.

Now it’s time to fly the Delta Zulu.

Dispatch from east of Santa Rosa Route 66 Airport (KSXU) in New Mexico, descending through 7,200 feet MSL: The canary chirps in my ear. Actually it speaks in a pleasing low-key male voice, calmly saying, “Carbon monoxide unsafe level.”

It’s a Delta-Z Kanari Smart Alert — as in the proverbial canary in the coal mine — and this is the second fascinating feature of the new Delta Zulu. The headset sniffs the cabin air and alerts you if it detects carbon monoxide. But the level wasn’t really unsafe. I set the detector to the lowest possible level of 10 ppm to trigger an alert.

The headset’s CO detector is set up through an IOS app that also displays the current CO level, and can show a trend line. This trend line is supposed to be archived for comparison purposes from flight to flight, but my version of the app (a beta) crashed after every flight — better it than me — and in doing so lost the data each and every time.

But it does work in flight, and the NTSB, which has been on a carbon monoxide crusade for years, will probably give Lightspeed an award. This feature will no doubt save lives.

In my flights with the Delta Zulu, I did notice that the headset’s CO readings were significantly and consistently lower than the readings from my Sensorcon Av8. But bear in mind that we’re talking very small “background” levels here, and the headset is detecting the air around my head, the air I was breathing, while my portable hangs from a side panel below my shoulder.

On the head

My loaner headset arrived with its own fog bank in the box — a full week of the worst weather I’ve seen in years — so I didn’t get to fly with it as much as I planned to, but I did get in four flights, including an all-day cross country. And the first thing I noticed about the headset was that I didn’t notice it.

Even after a grueling, turbulent, three-state flight, the headset remained comfortable.

The notched headpad allowed me to wear a hat with a button top without feeling like a nail was being driven into my skull. The earcups gave my ears plenty of room, and the seals were comfortable and adapted quickly to my standard eyeglasses.

Controller

The Delta Zulu’s controller features a new form factor, with the wires to both the headset and to the panel going in the same end, allowing the controller to slide more easily into a map pocket, at least in theory.

However, the plug-into-the-airplane cord is short, and even in my cramped cockpit, wasn’t long enough to reach from the audio jacks in the center of my panel to the map pocket on the side wall. The cord was also too short to just let the controller rest on the floor.

Power

The headset comes with two battery packs, one for AA batteries, the other a rechargeable lithium ion battery which has to be attached to the headset to charge.

I opted for the AA option so I could have spares if needed — and I needed spares.

I found the battery life of the AAs in the Delta Zulu appallingly short. After about six hours of flight time, that calm male voice with a pleasant baritone was informing me that my batteries were low.

Sound Quality

I’ve been using passive headsets lately, and the ambient noise level with the ANR is remarkably lower in flight, but not so extreme that you can’t hear changes in engine noise that might signal trouble.

During taxi, I experienced quite a bit of ANR popping, roars, and warbles, but these settled down after liftoff.

Speaking of liftoff, I found that the Delta adapted more quickly to changes in sound than its predecessor, the Zulu 3, which always seemed to be playing catch up.

As with all ANR headsets, the Delta Zulu is nearly worthless as a passive headset in the case of battery failure. In fact, I really couldn’t tell much of a difference between the headset turned off and physically off my head.

One other negative is that the headset’s HearingEQity profiles can’t be saved, and creating a new one overwrites the previous one, making the headset ill-suited for shared environments like flight schools or clubs.

But those are small quibbles, and the Delta Zulu is a splendid headset whose positives far outweigh its negatives.

Radio calls were amazingly crisp and clear, as was intercom chat in flight. Music via Bluetooth sounded fantastic, and I appreciated the sweet way the music faded out smoothly for radio calls, and then gradually faded back in. Of course, via Bluetooth, you can make or receive phone calls.

But perhaps of greatest interest, I found that my post-flight tinnitus was significantly reduced with the headset, compared to other ANR or passive headsets.

That, for me, is the biggest game changer in a headset that’s posed to change a whole lot of games.

The headset is available now at a suggested retail price of $1,099. Find out more at LightspeedAviation.com.