Balmat’s first release comes from @lukes-anger, a Norwich, UK-based artist whose two decades of electronic music-making have encompassed a range of tools and techniques, from MaxMSP to modular synthesis. Along the way he has built an extensive catalog encompassing ambient atmospheres, abstract soundscaping, and more. With Languid Gongue, he puts multiple approaches into play. Experiments in microtonal composition balance out pieces in standard tunings, while esoteric electronic machines merge with familiar acoustic treatments and microphone techniques. 

The result is a constellation of his signature sounds: freeform new-age fantasia; spring-loaded toytronic arpeggios; quartz-driven braindance clockworks. Drifting between consonant, almost lyrical compositions and shape-shifting textural sketches, the album drifts with the nonchalance of a sky-high cirrus cloud, and it glows as if illuminated from within. When we heard the material, we knew that it was the perfect choice to launch the label. To us, it sounds like a roadmap for points unknown.

Languid Gongue

Luke Sanger - Languid Gongue [BALMAT01]

Balmat’s second release comes from @hoavi, aka Kirill Vasin, a Russian electronic musician whose work approaches what might be familiar reference points —deepest dub techno, atmospheric ambient, liquid drum’n’bass— with a singular and refreshing point of view.

We first became aware of Hoavi after coming across one of his tracks in a DJ mix by Leech, aka Peak Oil label founder Brian Foote; we began corresponding, which led to a massive zip file of unreleased tracks turning up in Balmat’s inbox. Music for Six Rooms has been culled down from that bounty, its disparate moods distilled into 10 profoundly immersive tracks that touch upon dream pop, dub techno, and new age, all swirled together into the headiest of ambient dreamscapes.

Active since the early 2010s, when he founded his Shells Rattle label, Hoavi has released on a number of labels including floe, Snare Tapes, Fauxpas, and Minor Notes. In October, Peak Oil will finally release his album Invariant, recorded in 2019 and intended for release in 2020, then tied up in pressing-plant backlogs for over a year. Balmat’s Music for Six Rooms follows roughly a month later; we think that the two albums offer a wonderfully complementary view of Hoavi’s talents—one rhythmic, the other largely beatless, yet both of them sensuous in the extreme.

Music for Six Rooms appears in two slightly different editions. The vinyl edition appears on a single piece of vinyl upon which some tracks have been subtly edited in length, to ensure maximum audio fidelity; the digital version features extended edits and runs some 18 minutes longer, in total, for a maximally immersive experience.

Music for Six Rooms

Hoavi - Music for Six Rooms [BALMAT02]

Following her debut album, 'I’ll Look for You in Others' (Past Inside the Present), earlier this year, @patriciawolf_music joins Balmat label with 'See-Through', her second album. 'See Through' finds the Portland, Oregon musician and field recordist continuing to develop her signature style of ambient, balancing radiant soundscaping with a carefully expressive sensibility. But the new album is also marked by an important difference. Where 'I’ll Look for You in Others' was largely written in response to the death of a loved one, 'See-Through' represents a kind of rebirth. 

“After a long period of grief, I had been hoping to find my way to a place of lightness, peace, playfulness, curiosity, and sensuality again,” Wolf says. “What I was surprised and pleased to find is that for the most part, I had.”

She wrote and recorded many of the album’s songs quickly, in preparation for an August 2021 broadcast on the online radio platform 9128 Live. Excited for the opportunity to play live after more than a year of the pandemic, Wolf decided to write all new material for the event, working with a lean setup of Octatrack, Roland Synth Plus 10, Make Noise 0-Coast, and Novation Summit. (In fact, Wolf was the first sound designer invited to create patches for the Summit.) She also picked up an acoustic guitar that her brother had loaned her. “I decided to take the surrealist approach of ‘pure psychic automatism’ to see what poured out of me,” she recalls. “Woodland Encounter,” “Under a Glass Bell,” “The Grotto,” “The Mechanical Age,” “The Flaneur,” and “Psychic Sweeping” are all products of those sessions; the through line holding them together is their exploratory spirit and clarity of vision. 

Other songs, like “A Conversation With My Innocence”, “Recalibration” and “Psychic Sweeping”, wrestle with the traumas of the preceding year. Though they may linger on the heaviness of loss, Wolf says, “What I discovered is that a stronger archetype had grown inside me to steer my emotions and thoughts to a better place. “Likewise“, “Wistfulness” and “Upward Swimming Fish”—her first experiments with VST synthesizers—balance the bittersweet embrace of melancholy with the freedom to choose happiness.

“Pacific Coast Highway”, the album’s lone song with drums, might at first seem like an outlier. But it also signals Wolf’s interest in finding a fusion between the introspection of ambient and the togetherness of beat-oriented music. “Experiencing loss and isolation is what drove me into gentler territories of sound,” she says, “but I want to start making more beat-oriented music. After an extended period of loss and isolation, I’m ready to experience more joyous and social things.”

Listeners with keen ears might recognize the album’s closing song, “Springtime in Croatia”: A different mix of the song originally appeared on the 2021 digital compilation 'secondnature & friends Vol. II', from the Seattle label secondnature. This marks its first appearance on vinyl, however, and its spiritual home is undoubtedly here, at the close of 'See-Through'. As the bookending answer to the opening “Woodland Encounter”—another song in which field recordings play a crucial role—it closes the circle of an album that is itself keyed to the steadily turning cycles of life.

See​-​Through

Patricia Wolf - See​-​Through [BALMAT03]

For Balmat’s fourth release, we turn our attention close to home: to the Mallorca-born, Barcelona-based artist @nueen, aka Nacho Pezzati.

Nueen has been developing his highly personal style of blissfully Balearic ambient over the past few years, with releases on labels like Quiet Time Tapes and Good Morning Tapes. On Diagrams of Thought, he explores new depths in his sound. His atmospheres remain bucolic, but there’s a disturbance at work, a hint of uncertainty swirling beneath seemingly placid pads.

While Diagrams of Thought retains the ambient (or at least ambient-adjacent) focus of all Balmat’s releases so far, the album also marks new frontiers for the label; the album’s first half is graceful and largely beatless, but the mood grows murkier with the foggy drones of “Dome” and the intimations of liquid drum ’n’ bass on “Maxima”; “Veta,” meanwhile, might just represent the most forceful rhythm to appear on a Balmat release yet. 

Despite the album’s considerable range of moods, tones, and textures, it’s all tied together by a singular preoccupation, says Nueen: 

	“Lately, I’ve become conscious of my fascination for the notion of the break, on a conceptual and musical level. What’s temporary and what’s permanent. Thinking and making out of what isn’t there, yet is. Some people would call it silence, but it could also be a skip of the needle, an ellipsis. Something very basic—or Basic Channelesque. A set of sounds and silences, structuring just a hint of rhythm. Sounds that become silences, and silences that become sounds. 

The other day, I was saying to someone that for me, the sound of electric current running through the power lines above the train tracks is the most ambient sound there is. That infinity in which you never quite grasp all the harmonics and reverberations. It’s a form of time detained or expanded. Recently, I’ve been rereading Morton Feldman—you can tell, right? Vertical time, the silence that sounds. A sort of sacredness. My mind is blown every time I walk into a church, for whatever that’s worth.”

Written & Produced by Nacho Blanco Pezzati.
Mastered by Pedro Pina.
Cover artwork by José Quintanar.
Designed by Basora.

Diagrams of Thought

Nueen - Diagrams of Thought [BALMAT04]

When we established Balmat in 2021, neither of us could have imagined that within two years, we’d be putting out an album by one of our musical heroes: Mike Paradinas (@mikep), aka µ-Ziq. The British producer has been an inspiration to label co-founders Albert Salinas and Philip Sherburne since the 1990s. In fact, his album-length remix project The Auteurs Vs µ-Ziq was one of the very first pieces of electronic music that Philip bought, way back in 1994. To have the opportunity to release his music now feels like a real full-circle moment. 

Paradinas, of course, needs no introduction. Under a slew of aliases, chief among them µ-Ziq, the British artist revolutionized leftfield electronic music in the 1990s—coincidentally, this year marks the 30th anniversary of his debut album, Tango N’ Vectif, for his friend and sometime collaborator Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label—and his label Planet Mu (@planetmurecords) has built up a formidable catalog of visionary, forward-looking records, mapping virtually every corner of the electronic spectrum. With 1977, he turns the clock backward in a sense, and not just with the album’s title: Rooted in classic ambient and electronic sounds, these 15 tracks evoke the anything-goes spirit of the early ’90s, before the tools and tropes had calcified into cut-and-dried styles.

There’s no shortage of familiar sounds on 1977. There are echoes of raves and chillout rooms and transmissions from the fringes of techno; there are detuned synths and glistening reverb tails and, above all, gauzy vox pads, the eerie glue that holds it all together. The title, he says, is meant to invoke a general sense of nostalgia, bookmarking a year in his boyhood when he became more self-aware. More than anything, 1977 sounds like µ-Ziq distilled: Stripped of his signature breakbeats and customary chaos, Paradinas’ first-ever strictly (well, mostly) ambient album presents the essence of his music in a whole new light.

Along the way Paradinas touches on dark-ambient drones (“Marmite”), horror-film themes (“Belt & Carpet”), jungle breaks (“Mesolithic Jungle”), and even house music (“Houzz 13”), which marks the first bona fide dance-floor moment on Balmat to date). Yet the album never—to our ears, anyway—feels expressly retro. Rather, Paradinas plucks timeless sounds out of the ether and gives them a gentle tap, spinning them into unexpected new orbits. At times, 1977 feels like an experience of extended déjà vu: When we first listened to it, we had the sense that we already knew this music. It was as though we had heard it years ago, perhaps on a battered cassette tape lent to us by a friend, and been searching for it ever since. We hope you feel the same.

1977

µ-Ziq - 1977 [BALMAT05]

@ylia —aka Susana Hernández— had a remarkably productive 2020. In addition to releasing her debut album, Dulce Rendición, on Barcelona’s Paralaxe Editions, she penned compilation tracks for Lapsus Records, Hivern Discs, and Super Utu/Stars on Earth.

But professional success can be deceiving: The following year was, personally speaking, terrible. Her grandfather died. Her father died. Her cat died. And she ended a relationship. “That’s a lot of things all at once, no?” she says.

Her second album, Ame Agaru, is not necessarily a record of that year, but it is, she says, a response to those life events—a record of grief.

The new album is clearly a continuation of the ambient investigations of Ylia’s debut, but it differs in key ways. Where Dulce Rendición was exploratory and faintly cosmic, Ame Agaru—a Japanese phrase meaning, roughly, “the rain lifts”— captures a melancholy sense of stillness. And where her debut was largely electronic, on the new album, Ylia has folded in a number of acoustic elements, even when they are not recognizable as such. Her partner, Alejandro Lévar, lends fingerpicked acoustic guitar to the glowing dronescapes of “Todos los Cuerpos”; multi-instrumentalist and bandleader Tete Leal adds flutes, clarinet, and soprano saxophone to “Ame Agari”—or “after the rain”—which opens the album with a moment of contemplative calm, the kind that follows an extended deluge.

One track, the dub techno-influenced “Flowers in June,” grew out of Ylia’s live sets, but the rest are the fruit of improvisational sessions at home in Málaga, five minutes from the beach—jamming and then refining, searching for the ideal expression of a feeling as it was first captured. Searching for the spontaneity behind the stillness. In places, Ylia even incorporates piano, an instrument she has played since she was 10, yet has never included on one of her recordings before. For the most part on Ame Agaru, she seeks ways to fuse piano with synthesizers and electronic processes. But on the closing track, “El Único Adiós Posible,” she leaves us alone with the instrument in all its stark, unadorned beauty. It is a profoundly moving conclusion to an album defined by its economy of means and purity of expression: a cycle of life counted out in the passage of storm clouds and clearing skies.

Ame Agaru

Ylia - Ame Agaru [BALMAT06]

@minor-science—aka UK-born, Berlin-based musician Angus Finlayson—makes his Balmat debut with 'Absent Friends Vol. III', the third installment in a shape-shifting series across a variety of formats and platforms. And with it, he pushes forward his vision of ambient music as neither static vista or merely mood-setting atmosphere, but rather a dynamic matrix of textures, sensations, and even rhythms.

The first two Absent Friends—a 2014 set for Blowing Up the Workshop, and a 2017 cassette and web player for Whities (now AD93)—were hybrid affairs, part DJ mix and part collage, mostly featuring music made by other people. Then, in 2020-21, Finlayson developed the project into a live show of his own material. Armed with hundreds of bespoke stems created in his studio—idiosyncratic FX chains, feedback loops through cheap rack gear, heavily post-processed field recordings, found voices, etc.—he would improvise on four CDJs, mixer, FX, and live synths, extending techniques he learned as a club DJ into a live context, accompanied by visuals by Stockholm-based artist Paul Witherden.

'Absent Friends Vol. III' is an album of studio versions of the music developed for the live show. But in Minor Science’s world, even a category as simple as “studio versions” is slightly opaque. “Most of these tracks weren’t ‘composed’ in the studio,” Finlayson explains: “The sounds started out as stems and source material for the live show, and might not have been intended to go together—but then through performance, they settled into shapes that worked. I then recreated those performances in the studio.” That organic process of ideation and realization might help explain the unusual coherence of the album, in which sounds and textures flow seamlessly from one to the next, sometimes seeming to stand still, and sometimes looping back. There are virtually no melodies, few recognizable motifs or riffs, yet the eight-track album nevertheless moves with a distinctive logic and a determined sense of purpose, from the frozen-in-time shimmer of the opening “Introduction” through the early cuts’ studies of space and light; from the seemingly autobiographical “Summer Diary” through the rushing trance (yes, trance) arpeggios of “Contingency” and on to the dulcet denouement of the closing “Gather Your Party (Dispersed Mix).”

The album’s underlying themes—reflected in Witherden’s video for lead single “Dread the Evening”, as well as the print that accompanies the limited-edition version of the LP—include psychedelia and togetherness, universal cornerstones of virtually any experience of dance music. “Overall I see this record as almost like a photographic negative of the other release I did this year, 064 on AD93,” says Finlayson. That EP’s two fiercely peak-time-oriented tracks, “Workahol” and “Casheine,” offer “a response, by way of caricature, to the time scarcity, precarity, and hypercompetitiveness that are features of my life right now (and I think many other people’s too),” he says. “Absent Friends Vol. III responds to the same situation in a contrasting way. I like that both have a clock on the cover. Both invite you to consider the passage of time. On the club record, time is finite and ticking away fast. On this one, there are little moments where the secondhand seems to pause.”

Absent Friends Vol. III

Minor Science - Absent Friends Vol. III [BALMAT07]

Balmat co-founders Philip Sherburne and Albert Salinas have been fans of Shy Layers’ lilting, Balearic pop for years, so when @shy-layers’ JD Walsh asked us to listen to a set of demos he was working up with fellow Atlanta multi-instrumentalist Jeff Crompton, we jumped at the chance. And once we heard their work in progress, the decision was almost immediate: We have to release this.

Together, Walsh and Crompton are Anagrams, and their debut album together, Blue Voices, might initially seem like a departure from Balmat’s habitually electronic terrain. It’s not ambient music, but it’s also not not ambient music, at least to listeners in the right frame of mind. The two musicians, who met when Walsh moved from Brooklyn to Atlanta in 2016 and began collaborating a few years later, see the music in similarly ambiguous terms. “I like it because it’s not jazz,” jokes Crompton, a veteran and credentialed jazz player. “And JD likes it because it’s jazz.”

Crompton is a musician (and former high-school band teacher) with deep roots in Georgia’s improvised and experimental music scenes; his credits include shows with Eugene Chadbourne, a guest appearance with Godspeed You! Black Emperor, and a collaboration with Duet for Theremin and Lap Steel’s 12-hour drone performance at Knoxville’s Big Ears. On Blue Voices he plays alto and tenor saxophone, clarinet, electric piano, and organ. Walsh has been releasing music as Shy Layers since 2015, when he started self-releasing on Bandcamp; the following year, Germany’s Growing Bin packaged his first two EPs as a self-titled album, and in 2018, Tim Sweeney’s Beats in Space label put out Shy Layers’ sophomore album, Midnight Marker. Where those records channeled Walsh’s playful harmonic instincts into wistful songwriting with tropical overtones, on Blue Voices he lets his experimental tendencies take the lead. Playing acoustic and electric guitars, electric lap steel, bass, Moog Matriarch, modular synth, and programmed drums, he concentrates his energies on richly textural layers and abstract assemblages of tone color.

Across the album’s 11 tracks, there are faint echoes of familiar touchstones: the atmospheric twang of Daniel Lanois’ pedal steel on Apollo: Atmospheres and Soundtracks; the mercurial modal runs of Ethio-jazz; the late-summer calm of Fuubutsushi; the versatility of players and composers like Patrick Shiroishi and Sam Gendel, who are asking similar questions about where jazz ends and some other, nameless territory begins. Mostly, though, what Blue Voices captures is the quixotic sound of two restless musical imaginations making it up as they go along, two voices discovering a shared language in a hitherto unexplored shade of blue.

Blue Voices

Anagrams - Birds On Clifton // Blue Voices [BALMAT08]

@coralmorphologic and @nickleon’s Projections of a Coral City marks a series of collisions between distant worlds: the organic and the artificial, the Eocene and the Anthropocene, sea and cement—and even, perhaps, ambient music and activism.

Coral Morphologic are the Miami duo of marine biologist Colin Foord and musician J.D. McKay; since 2007, they have used a variety of multimedia projects to generate environmental awareness of marine biodiversity—most notably Coral City Camera, an underwater webcam streaming live from an urban reef ecosystem in PortMiami. Their citymate Nick León is a linchpin of South Florida’s contemporary leftfield electronic scene, with releases for Tra Tra Trax, Future Times, and NAAFI, and credits on records by Rosalía, GAIKA, and Iceboy Violet, among others.

This collaborative project dates back to 2022, when Coral Morphologic mounted a monumental projection-mapping installation on Biscayne Boulevard. For five nights in late November and early December, macroscopic films of corals played out across the exterior of Knight Concert Hall. The installation was, on the one hand, a glimpse into a possible future, imagining how the city’s skyline might appear if unchecked global warming and rising seas led coral reefs to colonize the built environment. But it also represented a look back into the deep past, a reminder that Miami is literally built from marine limestone mined from the Everglades. Its concrete foundations began life, eons ago, as a marine ecosystem—the same ecosystem that may one day reclaim them. As above, so below.

As an album, Projections of a Coral City is a suite of interconnected movements spread across two sides of vinyl. The tones are watery, the mood elegiac, the colors a washed-out pastel. Forms that appear static on the surface gradually open up to reveal hidden depths teeming with microscopic movement. You might detect resonances with other aquatically minded works—Jürgen Müller’s Science of the Sea, Harold Budd’s liquid piano compositions, even the slow-moving melancholy of Dr. Roger Payne’s Songs of the Humpback Whale. But ultimately Projections of a Coral City creates the impression of a world unto itself—a hauntingly beautiful space at the meeting point between sorrow and hope.

Projections of a Coral City

Coral Morphologic & Nick León - Deep Call (Single Version) // Projections of a Coral City [BALMAT09]

@panoram makes soundtracks for daydreams gone sideways. Picture the scene: an afternoon nap with the television on, quietly, in the corner; snatches of conversation drift in through the open window. Wandering, half-formed thoughts take unexpected detours; before you know it, there’s a movie playing out against closed lids, the colors bright, the characters unfamiliar. Accidental rhythms, incidental melodies, imitations of life, messages in code. 

Across 17 fragmentary, sketch-like tracks, Panoram carves a labyrinthine path in which nothing is what it seems: a fantasy world of breathy vox pads, faux guitar, detuned synths, bursts of flute and orchestral percussion, and even the occasional cheeky cartoon sample. It’s chillout music with a chilly edge, ambient with a darkly ironic undertone. (The briefest glance at your news outlet of choice should be enough to confirm that the title—Great Times—ought to be taken with a healthy dose of skepticism.) 

Panoram has been making music under his principal alias for more than a decade now, releasing albums on labels like Firecracker, Running Back, and his own Wandering Eye. (He has also performed and recorded with Amen Dunes, and has co-production credits on Amen Dunes’ forthcoming Sub Pop album Death Jokes.) Panoram’s output has ranged widely, taking in abstract pop, classical composition, twisted takes on library music, and cyborg funk. One record of “bio-acoustic transmissions” came with a cannabis leaf pressed in clear wax; his 2021 album Pianosequenza Vol. 1 gathers his experiments on the Yamaha Disklavier. But Great Times offers the truest picture yet of a project that has never been easy to pin down. 

Loath to overshare details about his personal life, Panoram instead lets the music do the talking, using his cryptic tracks to express the slipperiest sorts of ideas—the thoughts that take root where anxiety, distraction, and the most fleeting traces of grace commingle. Panoram’s approach flies in the face of contemporary ambient orthodoxy, with its emphasis on immersion and uplift. Great Times expresses something thornier, more difficult to translate, yet also more tantalizing to contend with. Its 17 tracks offer a chance to get lost—and an invitation to remain in the maze as long as you like.

All tracks written & produced by Raffaele Martirani. 
Recorded at 199X Studios except "Middle Class Love (Blood Tests)" recorded at Acme Smoked, Brooklyn, NY. 
This record is dedicated to Rowan B. James. 
Mastered by Pedro Pina. 
Cover artwork by José Quintanar. 
Designed by Basora. 
BALMAT10. 
www.balmat.cat 
©️ & ℗ 2024 Balmat

Great Times

Panoram - Cameos // Great Times [BALMAT10]

Balmat is a label with a cloudy outline.

Jointly shepherded by Albert Salinas (@wooky) and Philip Sherburne (@psherburne), two friends living in Cardedeu, Catalonia, and on the Balearic island of Menorca.

Bookings: mario@lapsusagency.com

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