Back in stock: Ambient/Drone

Review: The irrepressible Past Inside The Present is back with the second in a trilogy of tape loop experiments from T.R. Jordan. This is the limited and hand-numbered CD format and is another cohesive piece of this three-suite puzzle. All of the music was made by the same materials and methods and was all made in "a concentrated period of inspired experimentation with no energy wasted." The artist calls it a form of "musical composting" and the music is full of a sense of musical grace and elegance, peaceful pads and sonic versions of pastoral scenes like flowing rivers and mossy rocks under beautiful wispy clouds.

Review: What does it mean To Belong? Cynthia Bernard aka. Marine Eyes only begins to scratch the surface of this question on her latest ambient record (yet leaps a great deal forward in wrestling with it nonetheless), following up her prior effort 'Chamomile' with a distinctly beauteous fortnight of forenoon drones, all of which spur the realization that "belonging is everywhere and nowhere". Belonging is indeed a kind of ephemeral longing of being than can only ever be partly grasped, attained. Through its looping washes of warmed, brackish, padded backwash - not to mention its many bass-undergirded angel choirs - the likes of 'Timeshifting', 'Bridges' and 'Mended Own' stand out as such revelatory highlights, all contributing to an incredible album of sonic diaristic reflection, in which every sound sticks out clearly yet plays its proper part in a humble, rose-smelling gestalt.

Review: The limited 7" edition of Marine Eyes' latest full-length ambient record 'To Belong' hears a distilling of the original fourteen-track record down to just four selections. Though every track on the digital version of the album works in its own right, the choice on offer here - 'Hushed', 'Of The West', 'Bluest' and 'Call & Answer' - are particularly deserving of the study on wax. Something static, nigh time-crystalline is achieved on the B2, with its held root note evincing something of the quality of an infinite dream; the A1 recalls some mix of DJ Healer, Malibu or David Motion with its three note tenor-pad lilt; the A2 gets at the best of both worlds, sounding like a paradisiacal bathhouse vision set in slow motion; the B1 is the tensest, opting for a moodier key, but its reversed guitar taps and sustained choir-synth working in a no less lachrymose aesthetic.

Review: Experimental musician Leyland Kirby has been skirting round the edges of electronic music since the tail end of the '90s, delivering curious concept albums under a dizzying variety of pseudonyms (The Caretaker, The Stranger, Billy Ray Cyrix, Butcher Claws and Bored in Columbia, amongst many others). Here he dons his familiar V/VM alias for a discordant trip into drone territory supposedly inspired by fading memories of the last throes of early '90s outdoor raves. In truth, there's little in the music - a typically hissing, dystopian fusion of murky textures and becalmed electronic tones - to justify the concept, but it matters little. Kirby is a master at creating vaguely spooky, industrial-influenced soundscapes, and The Death of a Rave (A Partial Flashback) only enhances his reputation.

Review: Analogue synth spooks rejoice, Pye Corner Audio is back with further explorations of the sweet spot between nostalgic fuzz and circuit-borne futurism. Ghost Box is a spiritual home for Martin Jenkins' flagship project, and he continues to edge out the scope of the Pye Corner sound without derailing the fundamental atmosphere. On The Endless Echo, warm, pulsing melodics set to eerie keys abound, and there's a fine balance between gorgeous ambient atmospheric pieces and sinewy, danceable rhythms, but Jenkins manages to sound fresh and inspired even while reliably holding true to the overall project aesthetic.

Review: First released 22 years ago at the turn of the millennium, Constant Shallowness Leads To Evil has been described as one of Coil's most "mind-altering creations"; given the fiercely experimental and often otherworldly nature of their catalogue, that's some going. The album, which has now been fully remastered, was one of the first things Coil recorded following their relocation to Weston-super-Mare, and sonically it's as bleak, windswept, and barren as the town itself seems out of season. It's full of droning tones, modular blips, metallic melodies, slowly shifting ambient textures and musical motifs that lap in and out like waves. Furthermore, the album's standout moment, the near 14-minute 'I Am The Green Child', is like some mutant, experimental sea shanty crossed with a hypnotic ambient-industrial raga.