Since 1990, the duo KristoffK.Roll - Carole Rieussec and JKristoff Camps - has been charting the haunted terrain between sound and sleep, memory and myth, public performance, and intimate listening. With this beautifully packaged release, they once again invite us into the liminal space of nocturnal consciousness - this time anchored by both a double CD and a bilingual (French–English) 144-page book, designed to deepen the immersion.

Published by Mazeto Square, the 144-page volume (echoing the release’s CD - is formatted as a “livre-CD”) spans both English and French, offering a poetic and contextual companion to the audio experience. It documents the genesis of their acousmatic oeuvre, narrates their decades-long engagement with dream-recording sessions across global locations, and situates "LesOmbres" within their lineage of headphone-based “sleeper salons” and collaborative installations . Clickable excerpts and liner notes help readers decode the subtle dramaturgy weaving dream testimonies, instrumental gestures, and sound design. This isn’t merch - it’s an invitation to slow down, to read your way into the margins between each whisper and echo.

The recordings themselves - spread over roughly 66 and 69 minutes on two discs - continue K.Roll’s audio-palimpsest of 24 fragments merging spoken dream narratives, ambient textures, instrumental interludes, and environmental detritus. Voices murmur personal dream vignettes; airplanes, insects, murmurs, and footsteps intermingle with guitar refrains or sparse tonal wash. Closer mics, stereo movement, and parallax editing heighten the acousmatic tension: angels of detail arrive in seconds.

Tracks like "Ritournelle 2 avec guitare" or "Handsy – Petite suite…" float between improvised instrument and whispered speech - each fragment a microcosm. These aren’t transitions but transitions become textures: a door closing isn't just a sound - it triggers the memory of a corridor, a past, a slumber. As the book puts it, the album behaves like a “mer de sommeil”, a sea of slumber that deposits an ebb of timbral foam before receding, letting you drift.

This is headphone music. Each fragment is mixed for microscopic movement, and whispers or page rustles emerge as seismic as hoots or footfalls. It’s intimate, cinematic, and subconsciously calibrated - capturing the friction between waking and dreaming, listening and remembering.