There’s a poignant irony in how serenely a panic attack can be sonically captured in "when air collapsed within". This 37-minute piece, created by Eleanor Oliveros (aka "our dear friend, the medic"), plunges into the visceral yet ethereal world of anxiety and recovery. Using digital synths, field recordings, and granular textures, Oliveros (I don't know if she's related to the famous Paulien Oliveros) immerses listeners in the raw sensation of unraveling nerves. Her work draws on both personal trauma and experimental sound techniques, exploring the blurry edges of panic and the quiet catharsis of healing.

Oliveros, a transgender multidisciplinary artist, began her sonic journey with early performances involving bass guitar and a MacBook, later delving into electroacoustic experimentation. A deep believer in the healing properties of music, her compositions are fluid, shifting between ambient, noise, and experimental genres. Her background in performing arts and her desire to create “music to heal to” permeate this release, echoing influences from Tim Hecker’s drone-based emotional landscapes to the tactile vulnerability of Grouper.

Musically, the piece simulates the overload of a panic attack, where details become frayed, and perception is dulled - a form of sonic dissociation. But "when air collapsed within" doesn’t just dwell in panic. There’s a redemptive quality to the album’s progression, suggesting that through chaos, one can find moments of clarity. The final minutes feel like stepping into sunlight after a storm.

"when air collapsed within" is a quietly profound narrative, blending abstract soundscapes with deep emotional resonance. Oliveros’ talent for creating works that transcend personal struggle speaks to her broader commitment to using sound as a form of salve - inviting listeners into an intimate world where music is not just listened to, but experienced as a source of comfort and healing.