Isla Electronic & Dance 5 Items

Seven suites of deep and sprawling sonic meditations built around ‘call and response’ improv sessions between Randy Raine-Reusch and Michael Red.

Slow and tempered recordings of Asian flutes, African harps, temple gongs and a myriad of obscure instruments from Randy Raine-Reusch's deep collection mutate and ebb into swirling gossamers of tone. Sonic incantations stretched and magnified further by Red's Sends. An otherworldly play between light and shadow worlds; at times idyllic and light-filled, at times dark and eerie– all engrossing. Dream-reality reconciliations weave between the spectral world of Michael Red's sound processes and the direct physicality of Raine-Reusch's playing. The tension across the pieces builds between the live playing and processing techniques, dutifully revealing a growing familiarity with collective transcendence through sound (bigger than the sum of its parts). Real-time interactive dream music.

Initially realized over the course of a few days in Randy’s instrument museum in Vancouver BC [December, 2014] 'eras' is made up of processed, and sometimes multi tracked, improvisations between Randy and Michael. Through these sessions Randy would choose instruments he sensed possibilities within, and Michael then revealed and sculpted these possibilities. Both resonating, sensing sonic structures, environmental nuances, and further worlds in each other’s art, all within the moment. Being present for each other, they acted on instinct, trusting a first thought, trusting each other; committing, responding to that commitment, then mutating and letting go. Always moving forward, synthesizing and letting the living moment lead the way.

The recordings were left to distill and mature for many years before the composers felt it was ready. With minimal judicious edits and a very light dusting of FXs, both careful to preserve the direct and intuitive process that permeates the recording, Eras now emerges.

Reissue of the 1994 debut from Phil Western and Dan Handrabur's 'Off & Gone' project. A hallucinating document of the pair's initial jam sessions and what would become the genesis of a fruitful collaboration between two key members of the West Coast electronic music scene of the 90s/00s. Four tracks of deep, psychedelic techno, including the now-classic 'Namlohssa'. Re-mastered from the original DAT tapes. From Dan Handrabur [Dreamdoktor, Shukar Collective & 1/2 of Off & Gone]: I met the late Phil Western in the fall of 1992 on a visit to his record store, Oddysey Imports. There was always good music playing there, so I ended up hanging out for many hours, almost every day. It was very clear we had similar taste in music, be it the new electronic wave at the time or older music like Eighties British guitar pop, and vintage rock, not to mention ambient and world beats. A mutual friend, Robert Shea [Map Music/ Discotext], suggested we get together and jam; there was a trend going on to bring one's favorite synth to a buddy's studio and tweak knobs. We ended up making a couple of tracks which we showed Robert, a man with many connections in the new music business, by that I mean independent, forward-thinking labels from around the globe. His reaction encouraged us to release them. At the time, I was working on making a CD of my own music and tracks I had made with other tech- heads. Somehow the two cuts fitted quite well into the vibe of Outersanctum's "Frequencies From The Edge Of The Tektonic Plate" which we released in April of 1993. Sensing the possibility of a collaboration, we decided to move my equipment to Phil's place [he lived in a more permissive part of Vancouver where it was ok to work at a louder level]. Armed with two Atari 1040st with midi and various synths, samplers, and drum machines, we started crafting what was to become our most important body of work of the mid-nineties, Off and Gone, Floatpoint and others. After a visit to Lopez island where Mike Kandel [1/2 of Exist Dance] had his studio, the three of us decided on the name [Off and Gone] and set a release date for our first EP. Needless to say, we were ecstatic about it since we were both very fond of the music Exist Dance was releasing. This was the incentive we needed and also a psychological push to work on more material. Our sessions were lengthy; there was not much talking and a lot of playing. Programming in Notator (now Logic Audio) was tedious but rewarding; mixes were tracked to DAT tape. Some gear without memory had to stay on for days until we were satisfied with the mixes. Occasional overheating and power outages were our biggest enemies and guests to the studio who carelessly pushed keys on synths, thus ruining arpeggios... We never used limiting or compression. We didn't own any of that gear, relying solely on the power of our sound generating devices. No audio editing was available back then, at least not to us. A few times, we snuck into Skinny Puppy's studio to play with their Pro Tools rig and track guitars and violin through the Eventide, which we resampled and used in tracks. At the time, we had the feeling of doing something important for the Vancouver electronic music scene, inspiring other musicians to build studios and strive to create new, interesting music, away from the industrial sound that defined the city for several years, for which we had the utmost respect. All the music we made together was purely for the joy of sound creation and a sincere love of dance and ambient music; without any desire for affirmation or commercial success. Throughout our relatively short but productive collaboration, there was a feeling of completing each other's ideas very easily, without arguments, in an almost telepathic way, something I personally have never experienced again with another musician.

Over the past decade, Vienna-based Florian Stöffelbauer – also known as Heap, has built a consistent reputation as a skilled DJ, producer and Neubau’s label head.

Isla is proud to present his latest effort “False Hope” which explores the intersections between industrial, electro and dark wave – all with a leftfield twist.

As diverse as it is powerful, the 7 tracks featured here almost feel like nocturnal tales, chalking out Heap’s observations wandering through the streets of a silent city, with cigarette smoke permeating the air and sirens ringing in the distance. The cinematic essence of the release emerges from the very beginning, with the atmospheric beauty “Diall” transporting us straight into some late-80s scenery of Kraftwerkian nostalgia. In “Jetzt Oder Nie” a sharp knit of drums is placed on top of the grave frequencies of the bass: it’s indeed “now or never”, the moral imperative of the release, requiring us to take action. Throughout the whole album, hypnotic sounds punctuate the dark space, bouncing between the polyrhythmic and uplifting energies of “Inner peace” and “No Palm Too Big”, a sneaky slow-burner with a nocturnal groove and Gayna Rose Madder’s robotic voice reciting the stream of consciousness of this urban wanderer.

“Trist” rises slowly yet powerfully thanks to its mystical synths covering the ground and preparing us for what comes next. The title track “False Hope” holds the unique charm of a creature effortlessly floating in between dualities. As obscure as it is airy, as delicate as it is forceful, this hybrid composition is rich in details and plot twists.

At the end of this journey, “Losing time” reminds us of the urgency to take action expressed at the beginning of the album. In a rarefied canvas, an off-kilter solitary sound comes in, starting off as insistent as a car horn in rush hour, and evolving into a beautiful instrument arpeggiating the melody.

Here Heap concludes his narrative for now. We like to imagine him walking away, a shadow fading in the smoke of the city as the first lights of the day appear.

Total Annihilation Beach is the latest collection from Caveman LSD, one of the handful of monikers of Special Guest DJ / uon / sometimes just shy. Their releases under this name have always had the character of sonic transmissions – crushed sine-waves hurtling out of a wormhole, remote pirate radio bandwidths, whale-song picked up on radar, and so on. Here, the signal seems to come from a place whose remoteness is not defined by distance, but adjacency: these are alternate reality bops. What does it sound like? Kind of solarpunk, but dirty; not at all an artifact from a hopeless culture. Percussion at the forefront; warm timbres and tones – never have I heard this producer play with tabla and tambourine loops as they do in “Lost Hours,” the opening track of the EP. The buildup holds tension and dynamics tight, with a vocoder-smoothed moan – sampled from the caveman’s own voice, on the low – alternating between two notes; when the beat decompresses for the first time two and a half minutes in, one hears the amorphous and cavernous pads we know so well from shy. “Bottle Service Angels” picks up with another acoustic drum loop, and a clap entering 18 seconds in swings the rest of the track into your hips – there’s even an alternate percussion interlude sandwiched in the middle. The drums are turned over by a distorted and delayed wave, almost like a cop siren, which finds an answer in the track’s final seconds: we hear them blaring, but distantly (the demo version of this track, from spring 2020, was called “acab Beat”). The B side begins with a textured, heaving slab of ambience: “The Sun Will Sink Into the Ocean.” It is perhaps the sun one sees setting over “Total Annihilation Beach” – a phrase that came to shy while tripping on LSD in San Francisco, which felt to them like a post-apocalyptic haven for the rich. Seems on point. There is a machinic repetition to the track, but also sweeping curtains of sound that move like mist. But what comes at nightfall? Not cops, not raiders nor bottle service angels – nothing, actually. Just a void into which one lobs praise. “H6 Remix” adapts a Mesopotamian hymn to the divine wife of a moon deity, dated to 1400 BCE; the strings of the sampled oud playing it out are rich and trail beautifully with reverb. Caveman LSD’s gesture of remixing such a song reads sincere – the reality we inhabit is likely just as brutal as the one to which these transmissions belong; however, in both, honor exists. Love follows.