Ice-cave entanglements and ambient vapours from Interbellum, that subtly drift and rumble into the realms of techno and make up the ninth offering on the properly IMPECCABLE Vrystaete (the folks that introduced us to Brannten Schnure!) - literally every one of their releases causing some sorta stir in these waters.
In the absence of having the time and / or education to dismantle the seemingly cast-iron correlation between low temperatures and electronic music, we can’t help but belly-flop into “Februari”s overwhelming invocations of the open ice’s beauty, brutality and COLD -like Interbellum spent the last winter held up in some igloo studio with ‘owt but their humming laptop to keep warm - delicately articulating a journey through isolation towards inner-sanctum, with gritty, city-scape ambient feeling like a distant planet as droning frequencies steadily swell in clean, fresh air and delicate melodies are allowed to soar up into an unpolluted, polar sky.
The opener, “Every Word In The English Language”, tight ropes across a pensive network of underwater currents that rush below trance-inducing, melodic light displays - as if Thomas Koner got snowed in at Jochem Peteri’s studio - the only exception to this equation being the second track, “Brechtje”, that sees the addition of a sombre guitar line - which is kinda the only point where you are reminded you are listening to music made by actual humans. This passage is brief though, before further expeditions continue on the B-side with “Winter” and “Omen”, the former utilising hyper-real computerised warbles akin to the latest productions of HEITH and the latter, saddling-up subsonic bass sonars, deep freeze suikinkutsu-styled synth droplets and distant, frostbitten percussions that recall the more recent works of Bellows or some forgotten artefact on the Icelandic imprint, Thule. Indispensable techno thermos to see yah through the longest nights.
Limited edition of 150 copies with pretty, screen-printed covers.