There’s a certain paradox in seeing Robin Storey (Rapoon) and Robert L. Pepper (Pas Musique) still exploring the margins of consciousness after decades of sonic wandering - as if they’ve both long abandoned the map, yet keep meeting in the same clearing, under the same imaginary sun. Knowledge Has No Enemies But The Ignorant is their latest joint expedition, and probably the most cohesive, profound, and darkly humorous dialogue they’ve ever recorded. Two CDs, thirteen tracks, two hours of music that feel less like an album and more like a drifting séance in the company of benevolent ghosts.

Rapoon brings his trademark ghostly loops, the kind that seem to have been recorded inside a slowly evaporating memory; Pas Musique, on the other hand, injects the organism with improvised electronics, unorthodox rhythms, and strange field recordings that sound like the Earth whispering through broken speakers. The chemistry between them is palpable - not fusion, but osmotic collaboration. One bleeds into the other until distinctions dissolve, and what remains is a landscape of sentient drones, murmuring frequencies, and half-lucid melodies.

“Blending Apricots” opens the set with deceptively pastoral warmth, a sort of ambient mirage that soon reveals a more unsettling texture beneath. “Wastebasket Blues” could be a distant cousin of early Coil improvisations - equal parts decayed jazz and cosmic vertigo. Then comes “Counting Tulips”, whose circular motion feels like a meditation held together by gravity and decay. By the time you reach the second disc - the one that begins with the Latin-titled “Scientia non habet inimicum nisi ignorantiam” - you’ve crossed into something more explicitly ritualistic, even philosophical. Knowledge, here, hums like a low-frequency deity.

What makes the record so fascinating is its refusal to choose between structure and spontaneity. Everything feels composed and discovered, like a fossil uncovered by accident during a casual walk. The duo seems to be listening to each other as much as to the world around them. Their interplay isn’t about virtuosity - it’s about attention, patience, and the kind of trust that can only exist between people who have both seen the void and decided to paint on its walls.

There’s humour, too - that gently absurd, English-American strain of irony that creeps into titles like “Lost in My Closet” or “Remembering Coypus”. It’s as if the two were mocking the solemnity of their own mysticism, winking through the haze. You never quite know whether you’re supposed to meditate or laugh - which, of course, is the point.

Ultimately, Knowledge Has No Enemies But The Ignorant feels like a quietly monumental statement from two veterans who’ve long transcended trends. It’s ambient music that remembers it has a body, drone that’s still capable of laughter, and psychedelia that refuses to promise any revelation. Instead, it offers something rarer: the sound of two artists thinking out loud, together, and finding - amid all the static - a shared, luminous kind of wisdom.

A two-hour conversation between friends who’ve seen too much and are still curious. And in a world this noisy, that curiosity is rebellion.

Dardis is the ambient and experimental sound project for Northern Irish writer, editor and sound artist Colin Dardis. I had previously reviewed “A Chain Reaction of Various Cracks” and “Funerealism” by Dardis and enjoyed them, so I was interested to see what this artist had in store for us this time. First off, a murmuration is when a flock of birds is swirling around, most famously starlings, so this is about movement, rather than sounds. Dardis describes the album thus: “While Trump, Musk, et al. strip away and dismantle the fabric of American democracy and diversity, ‘A Murmuration of Stalins’ finds expression within chaos, reflecting the earlier work of Dardis which sought to give a soundtrack to his experiences of depression. While the news today makes for uncomfortable viewing, we must delve into that discomfort and fight to find ways to express our own desires and frustrations, political and personal. We must shout down the fascists with our own noise.” So let’s dive in and see what we have here.

This is one track titled “A Murmuration of Stalins” that is 40 minutes long, but you could think of it as several movements. This track is droning soundscapes with a tinge of discomfort. At 18 minutes in, it hits its stride with a melancholy melody of sorts, but this devolves into a droning soundtrack of malaise with some heavy bass coming in at times. Eventually it all grinds to a close.

The liner notes state that Dardis “wanted to create something slow and sinister, echoing the spreading malaise and sickness of the Trump administration. Something capturing the dread of the civilized world right now.” I read the liner notes after reviewing the track, and the fact that we both had used the idea of malaise demonstrates that he pulled this off. Beyond this, this would work well as a soundtrack for a black and white sci-fi dystopian film. If you like your stuff cinematic this would be well worth checking out. There's enough going on to keep this thing interesting over 40 minutes.

I've been a fan of R4 since the late 1990s when Fusion Audio began the first time. I'm glad to see he's back and this disc shows that he's still in fine form. R4 is the work of Barry D. Scheffel, who is also the driving force behind Fusion Audio Recordings. He hails from southwest Ohio, which knows a little something about thunderstorms and this disc demonstrates this knowledge. All three of these tracks were created using source material from a rainstorm. I really enjoy field recording based work, so let's dive In and see what the weather is like.

“Rainmaker I” is heavy. Oppressively heavy. You have only the slightest inkling that this came from natural sources as Scheffel lays down massive oppressive drone. This has more in common with a locomotive running through a tunnel than it does rain. “Rainmaker II” is a bit more peaceful. You can hear birds singing and gentle rain. Still, there’s heavy bass drone that takes over as the track progresses. This serves as a nice counterpoint to “Rainmaker I.” “Rainmaker III” brings the thunder. You can almost see this as a combination of the two approaches with the natural sounds being heavily processed and layered to make an interesting composition.

The liner notes state that Scheffel “operates somewhere in between the ambient and noise spaces on the periphery of music,” and this disc is evidence of his ability to walk that line. Overall, this is an excellent disc for fans of field recordings but also for those that might enjoy a little processing with their nature. Very well done and highly recommended. This disc weighs in at around 21 minutes and is limited to 42 copies.

I had not heard of Francis Théberge, but he hails from Quebec, Canada and is part of the artist collective Global Noise Movement and Adventurous Music. He also does a lot of video work, which explains why the notes describe this as a "Film score for a non-existent film" and explains that "This album is an audio exploration of a film that exists only in fragments—a non-linear narrative constructed in the imagination of the creator... and listener. Inspired by the delicate balance between memory and the passing of time, Siteste Fatale is a film score for an unmade story, where shadows linger longer than light, and the lines between reality and dream blur." Sounds interesting, so let’s see what Théberge is projecting on the silver screen.

“Rituel d'automne sur fréquences nocturnes (micro-climat version)” kicks it off with field recordings (crickets and someone walking through grass) and heavy droning soundscapes that provide not quite an ominous feel, but rather a feeling of melancholy and unease. Nicely done. Now if you're looking for ominous, "les racines du doute (remix1)" is what you have been waiting for. If the previous one was a person walking along a trail contemplating where it all went wrong, this is the person scanning the darkness looking for the unseen eyes that are everywhere watching them. There is a sense of urgency here that was not in the previous track. The kind you get when you realize that you aren't actually alone.... "Les racines du doute (remix2)" provides a bit of respite to the tension by making it a bit more noisy. Lots of reverb gives it a bit of a hallucinatory feel. And the eyes are still following you, until suddenly everything is quiet. "Rituel d'automne sur fréquences nocturnes (catastrophique version)" keeps it noisy and oppressive. There is a general feeling of pressure and weight, like being buried under a massive pile of rubble, but the aftershocks of the earthquake that took down the building you were in keep coming. This would appeal to fans of noisy ambient like Inade. "Organes vitales" provides a kind of denouement to the drama that we have just experienced, while maintaining a lot of loose ends. The protagonist may have escaped the woods alive, but perhaps not unscathed, and is still looking back over their shoulder, unsure of the eyes they can still feel upon them. Waiting. For next time.

In The Nursery had a series called "Optical Music," and I think that Théberge is operating with the same impulse: the Aristotelian sense of phantasia, or “that in virtue of which an image occurs in us” (De Anima iii 3, 428aa1–2). One can easily imagine the non-existent film that we create with Théberge, and this keeps the listener engaged. The music itself is enjoyable on its own merits, and is well put together and flows well as a cohesive whole. Well worth checking out. This album weighs in at around 39 minutes.

I was not familiar with a.drift, but this is the work of one Brendan Michael Place, who seems to be connected to Wyrd Records, but other than that I could not find much about this artist. This is a live recording done at Warehouse Salon in Boston and that's all we have, so let's dive in.

This album consists of one track, titled "interference / live transmission [recorded live @ warehouse salon - boston 03.30.24]." First off, if you are expecting a performance with a guy with a laptop checking email or a guy with a million pedals that they turn loose, you will be pleasantly surprised. Yes, there is a ton of feedback noise, which I appreciate, but this also has a lot more going on. I especially enjoyed the percussive elements, which sounds like a snare drum being looped repeatedly. There are bits of voice and other samples thrown in for good measure. The composition is constantly shifting, and not in that "I turned another knob and now we have sawtooth wave" kind of way. I mean organically shifting over time in a way that the composition is noisy, but not really chaotic. It has a kind of internal logic and consistency to it that I appreciate.

Live noise is not something I get a lot of, so this is a breath of fresh air. I would absolutely check out a.drift if they came through town based on the strength of this release. This is less Merzbow and more Zoviet France, so highly recommended for those who like experimental noise. This album weighs in at around 21 minutes and is limited to 42 copies.