For “Cronovisione Italiana”, Mirco Magnani and Valentina Bardazzi take old radio recordings- recorded by Carlo Domenico Valyum and surrounded, according to the press release, with a particular mystique as to their real age and origin, even to the point where time-travelling radio waves and a conspiracy theory are suggested. They lay them quite sparingly onto slow, moody arrangements of synthetic pads, soft micro-electronic rhythms, noise washes and waves.

Don’t let the title of opening track “Eurovision” mislead you, this could hardly be further away from the Song Contest most people will associate with that word. Conceptually it’s got more than a little in common with works like “IBM 1401, A User's Manual” by the recently and tragically lost Jóhann Jóhannsson, but the electronica tones are a little colder and a little darker here, and the orchestral element subtler and more synthetic. Alternating electronic bleeps and pitch-wandering arpeggios are the busy layer that provide a sense of rhythm in otherwise ambient sonic layouts.

Pieces like “Oretredici” are excellent examples of well-moderated and modest layering of the electronic noises into something melodic and beautiful, yet slow and sinister. Towards the end, “Oggi Al Parlamento” and “Bumper 77” are generally plainer, slow ambient wash material with the archive samples pushed into distant memory.

Every piece bar one is between four and five minutes long, showing a good amount of restraint and also a good understanding of what attention level these arrangements are likely to sustain- but even so, it would have been nice to hear one or two of the tracks allowed more time to evolve and rework- “Estrazioni Del Lotto” being a prime example.

Regardless of whether you buy into the more far-fetched claims about the album’s sonic origins, this is a very well-realised bit of spacious electronic composition with a definite accessibility. If you fancy a thoughtful chill-out, this is a soundtrack worth trying.

Edge Runner – Noema is a double helix of sound and stance. One disc dwells in the volcanic crevices of post-ambient jazz-noise (Di Domenico’s "Edge Runner"), while the other ("Noema" by Zethson) takes us through the long, slow undulations of harmonic hypnosis. Each feels like a hand grasping at the ineffable - from opposite ends of the piano.

Di Domenico, the Roman-born sonic alchemist with the soul of a global drifter and the fingers of a combat poet, doesn’t play piano as much as he provokes it into spasms of resonance. His half of the diptych is tumultuous, deliberately dense - music not built for casual listening, but for being wrestled with. The drone is king, yes, but its throne is uneven, carved out of sub-harmonics, jagged textures, and moods that drift from oppressive to strangely serene. There's nothing clean here. Every moment teeters between chaos and ceremony, like a ritual conducted during an earthquake. It’s beautiful - just not in ways most people would admit aloud.

Zethson, in contrast, starts in the cave and climbs toward the cathedral. "Noema" is a single 44-minute live improvisation: an arc that’s part sacred geometry, part somatic trance. If Di Domenico’s approach is sculptural - chiseling through noise - Zethson’s is architectural: building arches of sound from the ground up. Using repeating fifths, chromatic murmurs, and pedal-less attacks that make his grand piano sound like a prepared zither, he creates tension not through dissonance, but through the paradox of movement in stillness. Imagine a dancer who never takes a step, yet covers miles.

Both artists - although separated in temperament, origin, and even recording context - intersect on a spiritual plane. They speak in tongues made of felt, hammers, breath, and memory. There’s no ego on display, no desire to impress. What we hear is sound, in its rawest, strangest honesty.

The album’s title, "Edge Runner – Noema", is almost philosophical. Di Domenico runs along the ledge, defying gravity, sometimes slipping, sometimes soaring. Zethson offers the "noema": not just the thought, but the object of thought - the idea as thing. Together, they chart a topography of extremes and interiors. The edge and the essence. The outburst and the inner voice.

Is it ambient? No. Is it jazz? Sometimes. Is it modern composition? Maybe in another timeline. What it really is, is commitment - to form, to freedom, to the tremble between the two. Like a monk and a mad scientist recording in adjacent monasteries, they've given us something that feels both ancient and absolutely of now.

You don’t listen to this album; you inhabit it. You step into its shadow, walk until your eyes adjust, and only then begin to notice that the darkness is full of color.

Four longish tracks from this duo of Domenico Sciajno (who runs Bowindo) who processes the Bass Clarinet performance of Gene Coleman in real time with Max/Msp in real time. What we have here is not actual tunes but textures, mostly thin and agitated, but sometimes fuller and serene. At times its hard to hear where one stops and the other starts. Very modern, very abstract. A good combination of sounds demanding some attention, but a rewarding listen all the same if the above description appeals to you.

Another great Bowindo release pairing the longtime sound artist Kim Cascone on laptop with Domenico Sciajno with his Max/Msp processing. According to the dictionary "hyaline" describes something as glassily transparent. Take that for what it’s worth. Looking in or looking out would work here. Not really sure who’s doing what. Both fit well together creating deep tones, atmospheres, ambiences, rhythms, rhymes and reasons to listen. Like listening to neurons firing. Mysterious and spacey at times. The five pieces work well in either reduced or normal volume listening environments.

A proper composition (composed in 1999 as an homage to Luciano Berio’s, 'Sequens') by co-operator of Bowindo Recordings, Domenico Sciajno, in four parts, combining composed parts with improvision (in this case the composer’s editing of original material). The description for the composition of the piece is as follows: recordings of the Berio piece were digitized and reedited by Sciajno (some places quite obviously, adding to the textural vocabulary of the pieces) along with the addition of a sequens of his own. The resulting composition presents us with remix essentially. I’m not sure if this is 12-tone or not, but it definitely sounds modern. Short fragments of notes in combination with long statements by various instruments (flute, harp, voice, piano, trombone, viola, oboe, violin, clarinet, trumpet, guitar bassoon, accordion, alto sax, soprano sax, contrabassoon). No melody to speak of. With this kind of musical expression you can approach it in two ways, through the written score in front of you (available on the artist's web site), or the overall impression created by the performance. Does it engage the attention? Does it give some kind of pleasurable stimulus (that’s the point of music isn’t it)? I’d say yes to that. The element of surprise is usually the way I deal with this style of avant-gardism. It surprises and definitely engages the attention. It’s music appreciation here folks and I appreciate it.