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It was time for us to make a move into the world of ambient new age music. Released only on cassette and CD in 1986, Paul & Mark made Quiet Water from a single guitar and a Yamaha DX synth. Quiet Water consists of the amazing ‘Summer Daydream’ and ‘Restful Sleep’ that clocks in over 20 minutes. Cover is recreated from the original cassette and extended by hand painting by the original artist, Danny Flynn. We recommend you put this on the turntable and just relax. Prepare for a musical journey. A journey that you probably never have been on before. We cannot recommend this release enough. – Light In The Attic

Now that Cenizas is here, the timings perhaps make sense. From Jaar's early releases on Wolf + Lamb, to Space Is Only Noise, the album that made his name, right through to 2017 - 2019, the contrast and relationship between seemingly opposing sounds has been a constant in his work. Could this also apply to two full-lengths realised under different names? Cenizas is truly an antithesis of 2017 - 2019. The chain of ideas that led me to knowing-jesus.com was inspired by how slow, solemn, devotional and choral Cenizas often is. "Vanish" sets this tone as the opening track, where what could be a pipe organ precedes Jaar's choir-like vocal. There's also the album's acoustics, with recordings seemingly made in chambers or churches. Jaar could be haunting a crypt on "Cenizas." His voice meets cold, damp air and expands in reverb, an electric piano his only friend in the dark.

We haven't had a full-length this sedate since the alternate soundtrack Jaar recorded for Sergei Parajanov's 1969 film The Colour Of Pomegranates, but it's important to note that Cenizas includes some of the strangest sound design he's produced. The question often seems to be: "How can I soothe and unsettle you?" A noise artist would have been stoked to generate a tone as bizarre as that of "Menysid," although it's assuaged by steady drones and voice. "Gocce" means "drops" in Italian, which is as close as you might come to describing the noise that heavily features on the track. The guitar remains calm but the piano can't help but catch the vibe of the drops thingy, expressing itself through erratic glissandos. A similar interplay between instruments known and unknown is at the heart of "Xerox," as piano mingles with spindly sonics. Jaar chants ritualistically over enveloping drones, one of the few times Cenizas appears dramatic and fully animated.

I wouldn't necessarily say Cenizas is challenging, but listeners accustomed to Jaar's more smooth and structured early work may need to persevere as he leads them through this freeform landscape. There are points along the way, however, that will seem more familiar or traditional—perhaps a mood reminiscent of a past album or a more upfront vocal performance. "In the words of a prophet, sunder," Jaar says on "Sunder," one of the only times lyrical content can be discerned. His spoken verses on blood, sin, saints and revenge are at odds with one of the album's most inviting melodies, a line that could have featured on the recent FKA Twigs album, MAGDALENE, which Jaar principally produced. The deeply psychedelic "Mud" along with "Faith Made Of Silk," which sounds like it was made by Nigel Godrich for Radiohead, are the only instances of drums leading the way. Both are superb and temporarily ground an album that for most of its 54 minutes is suspended in atmospheres rich with portent and potentiality.

Cenizas is an LP of significant gravitas from an artist with among the largest and most engaged followings in electronic music. It's therefore perhaps natural to reflect on how it might be processed and understood in this moment of global anxiety. We may currently turn to culture to reassure us or offer us simplifications of reality, and in these respects Cenizas provides more questions than answers. My personal feeling is that's exactly why it's equal to Jaar's best work (Sirens, Space Is Only Noise), a set of artistic decisions that—while very different—are as ambitious and fully realised as those of 2017 - 2019; others, however, may find the energy needed to engage with its mystery less appealing. To those people: perhaps begin with "Garden" and go from there. This has to be the prettiest piece Jaar has ever written, and it consists of little more than a sanguine piano phrase. It's here that the enigma of Cenizas and thoughts of the future may soften, as the sublimity of the present moment rushes in. – Resident Advisor

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

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