The wilderness stirs something primal and unfathomable in us all. We become overwhelmed, awestruck, even emboldened, by these untamed frontiers, content to revel in the unspoiled beauty or compelled to explore what lies within. For some, it’s a cold, harsh reality; an unforgiving tundra of survival and subsistence. But, when afforded the indulgence, this isolation is the purest of them all.
“There aren’t many places left in Western Europe where you can still immerse yourself in pure wilderness” Roger begins, “in fact, the only environment where I have truly experienced this is in certain parts of Switzerland. My latest trip to Zermatt, located in the canton of Valais, has greatly shaped the music in this symphony and I was reminded that all of nature is something that should be respected and revered.”
A regular traveller through the country, Roger’s willingness to lose himself (in every sense of the word) in the abundance of natural beauty heralded Symphonica Helvetica – an untainted journey through the mysticism of the Alps, velveteen swoop of Swiss valleys, and the siren-song of nature.
“Away from the large cities of Zürich and Basel, you enter into a totally different kind of environment,” he states. “For me mountainous areas epitomize something indescribable, something sacred. I lose sense of identity and, sometimes literally, become lost in the landscape around me.
Inspired by the power of his surroundings, Symphonica Helvetica crystallizes those moments, and Roger captures, and softens, the endeavour of trekking through the terrain. A symphonic soundtrack that casts a heavy ambient blanket, there’s a sense of uphill resistance as the summit nears; the enormity of casting an infinite gaze for miles; the deep, contented inhale as you survey the forest canopy thousands of feet below and feel, for that moment, like it’s all you.
“In these places you really see nature at work: sculpting, flowing and grinding through the mountains,” Roger explains. “The fruits of my past trips through the mountains of Switzerland have amalgamated into the symphony that I present to you here. This is the musical translation of the visions and experiences I had standing on the edge of mountain cliffs, overlooking valleys, walking through snow-clad forests, enchanted by mountain tops in full view. These are the shamanic songs of Mother Nature still at reign in her grand domain: a living myth put into sound pressure waves.”
ASIP023 Benjamin Daeur - Twenty Three And Twenty Six
Some nights are made for sitting back and just letting the world spin on its axis; nights to watch the snow fall and gaze over misty neon hazes in the distance. Dark skies and white snow always seem to cast a sleepy contrast but it’s also one shared by an almost motionless state.
It’s times like these Benjamin Dauer treasures; the still hours where life is yet to accelerate towards its grinding daily regimen; the wait before the first creaks of cold bones and commuter trains amplify the city.
“By day, I am a problem-solver,” Benjamin starts, “and each project comes with a slew of new requirements and problems. Things can move pretty quickly and before you know it, months have passed and the next one is coming down the pipeline.
“It means I cherish the early morning hours before I go in. It's during these times that I feel a deep sense of peace and quiet and so my mind can wander, free of project goalposts and timelines.”
Free of these pressures, his “Twenty Three and Twenty Six EP” is testament to operating in a haze of AM detachment. Four drifting scores of ambient invention, tape echo and swimming delay, they’re musical explorations that are beautifully, subtly metrical. Awash with hypnotic rhythms and an unpolished human touch, each track feels like it plays out to its untraced, natural end.
“I love these happy accidents as I feel they are a natural part of the improvisation process” he explains. “I enjoy these opportunities to practice improvisation and I’ve discovered that these free-spirited explorations often end up feeling finely choreographed in the end. Perhaps this is some sort of primal response or urge to seek rhythm in my life?” he ponders.
Whatever the thought process, the still hours just got more beautiful.
ASIP022 Audioglider - Heathaze Days
In a hyper-connected world of social media, information excess and a constant desire to show and share our experiences, we often overlook the simple pleasure of savouring it for ourselves.
In a tumbling desperation to update, pin, poke and comment, it’s all too easy to forget that the truly wonderful moments are those that leave us awestruck and momentarily detached from the world around us. For Roberto Sodano aka Audioglider, one such experience has vividly endured for two decades.
“I was doing a bit of travelling and working in Egypt and I went to Siwa, a large oasis in the middle of the Libyan Desert” he explains. “It was fantastic and otherworldly to arrive at this lush, palm-strewn, isolated island with a lake at its heart and I spent a fantastically slow week there, taking in the simple pleasures of the everyday sights and smells, and gazing in wonder out in the desert, at the starry night skies.“
Set in stark contrast to the cacophony and claustrophobia of Egypt’s capital, Siwa emerged as a green jewel in a barren desert crown, and ‘Heathaze Days’ charts the contrasts, encompassing the sand-blasted, sweat-soaked 10 hour drive to the blissful discovery of the oasis itself.
It’s a journey in every sense, the simple, sparse beats capturing the monotony of transit and the layered bursts of melody blossoming as Roberto delves deeper into the green vitality of Siwa. It builds a warmth and quiet euphoria that comes with selfishly holding onto a moment because it’s yours, so that as Roberto's desert odyssey longingly comes to an end, and the harmony wistfully fades out, the moments of discovery and reflection are as vivid as ever.
“It was a relief to the senses to be cut off and isolated, to recharge and get a different perspective because there really was a sense of stillness,” he says. It was an opportunity to reflect, take stock and enjoy the moment for the moment, in the moment."
ASIP021 Textural Being - Vantage Points
We’ve all stared into the abyss at some point in our lives - whether it’s figuratively in pondering life’s bigger questions, or literally, teetering on the precipice, peering over into gravity’s dead space - it typically provides a fresh perspective and a vast reminder of our place in the world. They’re some of the thoughts Sage Taylor considers as he stares out across Columbia River Gorge, absorbing the stars and size before him.
“When you're from a city like I am, you're immediately struck by the vastness of the place but at the same time, the view is so picturesque it seems almost unreal,” he muses.
‘Vantage Points’ captures that quiet contemplation and doesn’t just emanate tranquillity; it breathes it, exhaling with every whip of the night breeze and distant gurgle of the water below. There’s also a sense of relief and release, the stresses of a city life melting into the expanse, eased by the serenity but energised by the scale of the thoughts and things bigger than our own comprehension.
“This song is an amalgamation of how I feel when I'm standing on the balcony of a viewpoint along the Columbia River Highway, absorbing the huge, sparse-yet-beautiful spectacle first-hand. The feeling is twice as intense at night and when the sky is clear, it's sort of a reminder just how small I am every time I do it.”
ASIP020 Odd Shapes - Desert Plant
Sometimes inspiration peeks out of the ordinary, finding you at a point where you least expect it. It doesn’t always have to be the flash of the Eureka! moment, just the growing creep of realisation and a willingness to look beyond the standard wash of the everyday.
“Sometimes I take a particular street, leading away from the city, when I walk. It has these old wooden sheds all the way down along one side and I was immediately drawn to this mysterious feeling, as if somebody was trying to hide something on this empty street with all these poorly constructed sheds,” Asger explains.
It’s a feeling that underpins the eerie dissension and mystery of ‘Desert Plant’. Humming with a dark tension, Asger’s field recordings of a busy city contrast against the desolate, rail track-guided path on its outskirts.
“The street is close to the rail track and at some point it becomes a path, which lets you cross under a bridge,” he continues, “under that bridge, I recorded these great low-frequency sounds – a mix of the cars going over and the wind blowing beneath the bridge, with the sirens and city noises contributing to the soundscape.
“As I went along the road, literally, the ideas started building up inside my head. I remember feeling like slowly returning to reality when walking back that day.”
Those field recordings create an angry dissension, the agitated whip of the wind interrupting the mournful call of the vocals, gnashing over the dead space between stabbing, percussive beats.
A track wired by dark and low frequencies, it feels like you’ve stumbled across a place where horrible things happen and are hid, the ghosts of those actions lingering only until they’re discovered.
“It's called Desert Plant because of the place feeling like it was completely deserted, yet it offered me so much in the form of atmosphere and inspiration. There’s life but you have to find it, and acknowledge it.”