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Nicolás Jaar’s 2020 output so far amounts to three albums which, at first glance, have little to do with one another. First, he released a new collection under the alias Against All Logic, his Beyoncé-and-Kanye-sampling dance project, which clanged into the world like a soundtrack to the last party before February turned to March. Then the pandemic shuttered clubs and Jaar unveiled Cenizas, the long-awaited successor to his most overtly personal records, 2011’s Space Is Only Noise and 2016’s Sirens. Cenizas was a surprise: When it arrived, most of us had only been in quarantine for a few weeks, but Jaar’s prescient music sounded withdrawn and cautionary, using drawn-out ambient passages to explore an expansive sense of solitude. He may be putting out albums faster than we can get haircuts, but the 30-year-old nonetheless suggests Thoreau contemplating at Walden Pond, an artist in lockdown for reasons of conviction rather than contagion.

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Months have passed and while COVID-19 continues to rage in the Americas, the Chilean American producer gives us Telas, a record in which he continues to explore solitude. Telas is the nominal successor to his 2015 film score Pomegranates, made in the vein of an ambient musician. But while Pomegranates was sprawling, Telas is a taut, exhaustively balanced work, although its four long songs add up to an hour of music. In the context of Jaar’s busy year, it signifies a continued blurring of his various roles—DJ, ambient craftsman, distinctive vocalist with an electronic toolkit—and the album’s deliberate structure and ominous mood indicate that Jaar can make direct, even political statements without sung lyrics or speech samples.

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The record begins with one of the blown-out horns that Jaar has been favoring recently, accompanied by percussion performed on wooden and metal instruments built by artists Anna Ippolito and Marzio Zorio. We’ve heard Jaar use custom-built devices before, on Cenizas and the latest Against All Logic record. Here, the objects—which have both a harsh metallic ping and a dull, quick decay—suggest ancient sounds, dusted and polished to seem startling and new. The rest of opener “Telahora” and its follow-up, “Telencima,” never command the listener’s entire attention, but they’re full of symmetrical passages, calls that wait minutes before they hear responses, and phrases that sound transposed from melodic to rhythmic instruments. Jaar has mastered the art of changing his stems mid-line, turning strings into bells and back again. One of Telas’ joys is the way he shifts his sonics fluidly and frequently, without the gridded template of a danceable beat. – Pitchfork

Deeper and deeper: studio mule excavates another treasure from japan’s rich modern music history. this time spiritual leaning rhythms that come from none other then eitet-su hayashi, one of japan’s most renown taiko drummers, a percussive instrument that is deeply rooted in the mythology of japanese folklore.
With “kaze no shisha”, studio mule reissues a crucial album of his long-spanning career, that started in 1971, when hayashi joined the globally famed ondekoza group. the so called “demon drum group“ established the taiko drumming to a global audience and intensively toured around the globe between 1975 and 1981 - the year the group split.
Shortly after, hayashi and some like-minded spirits formed kodo, a new drum troupe with hayashi as lead drummer. after their first live performances he left the ensemble again in order to launch his solo career, whose first output marked “kaze no shisha”, released in 1983 on the japanese subsidiary of the us record company victor.
The album’s six compositions feature hayashi on taiko drum and other percussion, famed japanese composer midori takada on marimba, cymbal and bells, shuichi chino on synthesizer, chi soungja on the traditional korean zither gayageum and the korean janggu drum as well as the singers kamur and tenko, also known as the honeymoons. - Studio Mule

Somewhere Between: Mutant Pop, Electronic Minimalism & Shadow Sounds of Japan 1980–1988 hovers vibe–wise between two distinct poles within Light In The Attic’s acclaimed Japan Archival Series—Kankyō Ongaku: Japanese Ambient, Environmental & New Age Music 1980–1990 and Pacific Breeze: Japanese City Pop, AOR & Boogie 1976–1986. All three albums showcase recordings produced during Japan’s soaring bubble economy of the 1980s, an era in which aesthetic visions and consumerism merged. Music echoed the nation’s prosperity and with financial abundance came the luxury to dream.

Sonically, Somewhere Between mines the midpoint between Kankyō Ongaku’s sparkling atmospherics and Pacific Breeze’s metropolitan boogie. The compilation encompasses ambient pop, underground electronics, liminal minimalism and shadow sounds—all descriptors emphasizing the hazy nature of the nebula. Out–of–focus rhythms wear ethereal accoutrements, ballads are shrouded in static, and angular drums snake skyward on transcendent tones. From the Avant–minimalism of Mkwaju Ensemble and Yoshio Ojima, to the leftfield techno-pop of Mishio Ogawa and Noriko Miyamoto (featuring members of YMO), and highlights from the groundbreaking Osaka underground label Vanity Records, these are blurry constellations defying collective categorization.

These tracks also exist in a space of transition when the major label grip on the Japanese recording market began to give way to the escalation of independents. Thanks to the idyllic economic climate and innovations in domestically–manufactured music gear, creators on the edges were empowered to focus on satisfying their artistic visions in the open headspace of home studios. While labels like Warner Music and Nippon Columbia explored new sounds through traditional channels, it was possible for Vanity, Balcony and other indie labels, not to mention self–released artists like Ojima and Naoki Asai, to publish their work via affordable media such as cassettes, 7" vinyl, and flexi–discs.

Expertly curated by Yosuke Kitazawa and Mark “Frosty” McNeill (dublab), Somewhere Between is a collection of music, much of it released for the first time outside Japan, that is bound more by energetic vibration than shared history, genre or scene. They are the sounds of transition and searching—a celebration of the freedom found in floating. - Light In The Attic

Inspired by John Cage, Jon Hassel, Brian Eno, and the emergence of house and techno music, Technodrome is jazz bassist turned electronic experimentalist Motohiko Hamase’s foray into what he calls ambient house or, as he explains, "using the gritty sensation inherent to the core of house music" to create an ambient record "aiming to express inverted images, optical illusions, and the sense of déjà vu that modern people can get in the city".

Technodrome is constructed around innovative minimalism, a robotic funk orchestrated by bass lines and percussions, and monochrome moods. It’s the most intriguing project in Hamase’s discography, a ghostly ride set in 90s urban landscape, where repetition sets the groove and brings things to life, echoing Hamase’s deeper subtext for his compositions: "and attempt to recreate (as metaphor) the time in our mother's womb".

The album was initially released in 1993 by Newsic, the cult label started by Tokyo’s Wacoal Art Center (also known as Spiral), home, notably, of Yoshio Ojima who co-produced the album. It is now reissued in conjunction with Motohiko Hamase’s #Notes of Forestry and Anecdote albums – Bandcamp | WRWTFWW

Originally released in 1981 as a limited vinyl pressing of 300 copies on Agi Yuzuru’s fabled experimental label Vanity Records (R.N.A. Organism, Dada, Sympathy Nervous, Tolerance…), Lady Maid is a testament to the creativity of the early 80s’ Japanese electronic and experimental scene, encapsulating a prolific era when audio gear became affordable for musicians to explore sounds in the comfort of their home, free from studio time pressure and major label rules.

Entirely imagined and brought to life by an inspired Yukio Fujimoto, the 6-track opus was conceived with a Korg MS-20, a Korg SQ-10, a Boss Dr. Rhythm DR-55, and…a Texas Instruments Speak & Spell! It’s elegantly minimalist, honest and witty, very playful, cleverly pop, and downright fascinating. The a-side captures the fun side of avant-garde electronica, lo-fi wave, proto-glitch, and IDM, a joyful ride beautifully interrupted by the cinematic mood switch of the b-side - a 20 minute ambient piece flirting with sci-fi, melancholy, and hints of metallic darkness. Unclassifiable and marvelous! – Bandcamp

More from the label We Release Whatever The Fuck We Want Records 

Bing & Ruth’s music exists in the cracks between. Project leader David Moore has a degree in music and his earlier compositions, found on the 2010 album City Lake, can have the air of the conservatory. So it makes some sense to slot his work in with contemporary classical. But the era of classical music Moore most frequently evokes—the trance-inducing minimalism of the 1960s and ’70s—has at times been filed as new age. And divisions between *that *genre and the more critically acceptable sphere of “ambient,” a word that sometimes describes Bing & Ruth, have always been porous. Beyond these labels, Bing & Ruth is also hard to pin functionally. Moore’s pieces can feel formal, less like “environments” and more like compositions that need to be tracked carefully over their duration to be understood. Though he’s made music for an ensemble that includes woodwinds and strings, Moore also includes processed tapes and production choices that smudge the lines between acoustic and electronic music.

On City Lake and 2014’s Tomorrow Was the Golden Age, Moore’s music evoked the best of what had come before him—Philip Glass’ repetition, the emotional shading of Max Richter, Eluvium’s comfort with rock dynamics—but he’s steadily grown into a sound that feels all his own. No Home of the Mind, his third proper album and first for 4AD, is his most distinctive record yet. His working group is still here, but the arrangements on *No Home *feature Moore’s piano much more prominently, and it’s a more focused record. If City Lake and Tomorrow sometimes found him moving between established styles, demonstrating wide-ranging mastery because he can, the new album stays focused on wringing as much feeling as possible out of narrower terrain. And No Home of the Mind is the earthiest Bing & Ruth record yet. You can smell the sweat that went into it. – Pitchfork