In a world where most people would rather fill their ears with pop tunes and catchy beats, Edward Sol & Anla Courtis dare to ask: what if we listen to nothing instead (even if listening to pop tunes nowadays equals to listen to nothing… conceptually at least!)? Their latest collaborative effort, "Askanian Virgin", is a testament to the art of doing absolutely nothing — musically, that is.

Recorded in the barren steppes of South Ukraine and Patagonia, Argentina, this album is as minimalist as it gets. Edward Sol and Anla Courtis have managed to capture the soundscape of desolation, where the primary instruments are wind, grass, and the very fabric of the earth itself, even if the sounds and sound manipulation by the two artists is not a complement at all. According to Sol, these recordings were made in places where “nothing” is the most accurate description of the soundscape. But, as the saying goes, one man's nothing is another man's symphony.

"Askanian Virgin I", clocking in at a leisurely 12:16, is a masterclass in patience. The track opens with what might be the sound of a distant breeze or perhaps just your own heavy breathing. It's hard to tell. The textures are subtle —so subtle, in fact, that you might wonder if your speakers are working, particularly in the first seconds. As the piece progresses, you start to hear the faintest hints of what could be described as sound — distant echoes, the rustling of dry grass, maybe even the spectral remnants of an ancient song. It’s like eavesdropping on the Earth itself, but don’t expect any gossip!

"Askanian Virgin II" by Anla Courtis is another 12-minute exercise in auditory Zen. This track continues the theme of exploring the near-void, with a slight variation in the ambient nothingness and in the gradual noise saturation (I guess reached mostly by overamplifying field recordings). Courtis' contribution feels a tad more structured for this reason, if you can call it that. There are moments where the concept of emptiness is interrupted by a different declension of it, that paradoxically sounds more noisy, that got grabbed to be the source of the saturating disturbances that gradually get condensed. It’s the kind of piece that makes you question your very perception of sound, environmental noises and silence.

The liner notes themselves set the tone for what to expect. Sol's musings about the recordings containing “nothing” set the stage for a listening experience that is as much about what you bring to it as what is presented. It’s an invitation to tune into the minutiae of existence, to hear the “maybe” in every sound, and to appreciate the beauty of untouched nature.

Just remember, sometimes the most profound sounds are the ones that barely make a noise.