My intention was to put this record on, and review it; however, it became much more than that. It was quite the scavenger hunt to be honest. The CD, clearly self released, contained not only no record label or catalogue information, but not even a band or project name. Aside from a tracklist that reads like an advanced physics text, there is only a single word: 'Ambients.' The project name comes in the form of a strange, yet intriguing symbol.

Fast forward through an extensive Google search of song titles and the word 'ambients' and I've discovered that this cd belongs to Secant Prime. A very mysterious project this seems to be. There is an immense lack of information existing about Secant Prime or this CD, but that's ok, I've got a pair of ears, and a very piqued interest at this point; clearly the artist wants the music to stand on its own, uninhibited by preconceived notions and irrelevant labels.

'Ambients' is a huge record. It may only amount to five tracks, but three of them clock in with double digit lengths. It's a very thick, rich work. Bass heavy drones don't pummel you to the ground, but certainly pin you down tight as they roll not just over, but through you like a thick dystopian syrup. Seemingly unending loops gather and build throughout the record, enveloped in soft static, the echoed memory of forgotten samples and angelic ghosts. There's not a lot more that can be said of this one, it needs just to be listened to, or rather felt, to understand.

Minimal, sparse, ambient, chill; all of these words can be used to describe 'Journey Through the City or Something Else.' However, they couldn't really capture the essence of this album, a re-release of the second solo effort (originally recorded in 2002) by Mirt. This record is definitely a journey, each song building up to the next, each new song expanding on the last. We begin our journey (through a city, or maybe something else) with field recordings of rain, peppered with a pan flute's fleeting notes, breaking through, then slipping right back from where they came. We move then to a similar formula, with minimal synth droning, yet somehow moving you deeply, while quick runs of church organ escape. This build continues throughout this adventure, bringing light electronic percussion, morphing into flat out beats. Mirt builds from this lonely sound, up to something I can only define as droning smooth ambient electro-jazz. And just as fast as this monument of sound is built, it begins it's descent, as the layers are the stripped back down as the album progresses. Very chill, laid back in certain parts, ghostly and uneasy in others, a fine album that doesn't get stale even in its slowest movements.

After a 4 year hiatus, Heidi Mortenson returns with 'Mork' and a vastly different style of music than her previous works. This is a much more chill, down to earth, organic and dark release than her previous effort. She also returns to her native Danish tongue on this one, which adds a subtle exotic taste as well as a sort of refreshing detach in that the (non Danish speaking) listener can absorb the sound as a whole and feel more of the pure emotion that's represented on this disc.

'Mork' starts out with 'Side A,' which is three songs, all of which combine these minimal, yet meaningful and strong beats, with a relatively small number of layers of instrumentation, but again, very strong, very effective. From fun and quirky yet astringent synth textures, to believe it or not, nearly epic horns that just MIGHT even be appropriate for riding into battle. The vocals are smooth, smoky, seductive and alluring. They pair so perfectly with these songs. Track 3, entitled 'Underkast' (which translates to 'Submission') is the perfect example of all of these traits which combine into a cabaret/almost noir-esque piece which invokes visions of a smoky, futuristic lounge or nightclub with its spotlight shining down on the woman onstage the only source of light, and the band master has a drum machine atop a full sized grand piano style midi controller.

'Side B' which is just a mere two songs, is even more relaxed, slightly more organic and takes off a bit of that digital edge, bringing you back down to earth. 'Alt I Alt' (All in All) is much sadder, more low key and emotional than the first half of the disc. And it's followed by a slow and beautiful solo piano piece that reminds just a little of the album 'Screws' by Nils Frahm. He wrote and recorded the album after breaking his left thumb and was unsure if he would ever play piano again, to which he responded by sitting down, armed with 9 fingers, and began to play and record these little pieces at night. They yielded these beautiful, delicate and vulnerable works; and that is how I would describe the closing of 'Mork.'

All in All (no pun intended) it's quite an extraordinary little EP with almost no flaws, missteps or downpoints.

Very quiet, almost silent. A faint whisper of sound begins to fade in; very ambient, casual field recordings begin to sparsely populate this space before a light texture begins to comfortably drone in. So begins the opening track on 'An Idea of North/Learning to Walk' by Mark Harris. A refreshing effort that is extremely easy to listen to and get lost in, but doesn't slip away into the background some releases of its kind. The entire record is very soothing, emotional and dreamlike. It almost puts the listener into a trance with its airy textures, harmonics and ambience. Harris says his intent was to create a journey through various landscapes and environments and he has done that with fierce precision. Song to song it flows seamlessly and effortlessly with such a calming effect that even soothed this savage beast. Through his amazing arrangement of delicate space and tone interwoven with field recordings, gentle white noise washes and even a single lone melody has ensured this will be a journey you'll want to take again and again.

Dan Warburton and Al Margolis, also known as 'If, Bwana' have come together on 'I am Sitting in Phill Niblock's Kitchen' (which surprisingly has several valid meanings for such an odd title). This single, nearly forty five minute piece was crafted specifically for a live collaboration that the two were scheduled to perform. To prepare for this, Warburton took all of his Margolis/If, Bwana records and time stretched them all to precisely forty five minutes long, which was their estimated performance length. This essentially yielded nearly 100 tracks, which he was then able to piece together into a single, cohesive track, which he then gave to Margolis to finalize a mix. This took place in a kitchen owned by one Phill Niblock. Recording and mixing in all of the surrounding ambiences, passing traffic, etc. as the track was played back, they finally had a 'finished' product which would serve as the backdrop for their live improvisations.

The piece we've been presented with here, is a stoic soundscape, slowly changing, evolving over time. It's difficult to put such work into words, as it is much more a visual, visceral experience. It's one to listen to in the dark (or dim), close your eyes and just let it draw you in. From drones, to airy ambience to field recordings, to the occasional sharpness'æ The records starts with almost the exact same tones as it ends, so it could also be played on repeat rather seamlessly, which you just might want to do. The end result of Dan Warburton and If, Bwana's work together is definitely not to be missed and if you're like me, you just may find it to be a springboard into both of their back catalogues as well.