In just over 26 minutes, "Night As Day Day As Night" unfolds like a half-remembered dream - fragile, luminous, and curiously boundless. A trio of Oslo’s most imaginative experimental musicians, Winther, Lauvdal, and Reinertsen conjure a world that inhabits the liminal spaces - morning haze, moonlit reveries, the unnoticed moment between heartbeat and breath.

The record is composed of five vignettes - "The Drummer’s Place", "As Night", "Hum", "Day As Night", "Nattravnen" - each a distinct texture in a cohesive dreamscape. Lauvdal’s piano and synths cast pale light across the soundstage, drawing parallels to her work with Laurel Halo and Billie Hval, but here she’s less in the spotlight and more the dawn breaking across the trio’s interplay.

Reinertsen’s alto sax and electronics warp organically around Winther’s guitars - both acoustic and electric - creating a dense network of echoes and timbral collision. It’s an approach rooted in patience: nothing is rushed, but every phrase feels intimately woven and full of intent.

This patience doesn’t slow things down - it sharpens them. Like watching a cloud drift overhead on a still morning, the music moves neither fast nor slow, but with awareness. Each track holds space: "Hum" breathes in sustained tones; "Nattravnen" (Night Raven) closes the set with a nocturnal shimmer, as though tracing the bird’s solitary flight under moonlight.

As a debut studio recording, it’s an elegant statement. The trio - united by Oslo’s fertile avant-garde scene - has created an album that feels both composed and improvised, structured yet spontaneous. Much of its charm stems from how they play off each other’s voices, allowing contrast and nuance to float to the surface without forcing resolution.

There are moments of humorous charm, too: the gentle crackle under a string bend, a hesitant arpeggio that sounds like a question, a saxophone sigh that could double as a yawn. These little imperfections make the music feel alive - breathing, human, aware of its own edges.

The title, inspired by Michel Leiris, speaks to this: night as day as night - a cycling of states, inversion and reflection. This album doesn't demand active listening, but rewards it: it's at once ambient companion, chamber reflection, and narrative without words.