First up is the newest collaboration between Oöphoi and Enrico Cosimi (recording as Tau Ceti). The follow-up to the excellent Subterranea, Archaic Oceans is a sprawling two-disc set in lovely Amplexus style packaging. Their paean to the oceans of Earth's past proves to be as deep and dark as the seas, with six long, haunting tracks of drone-based ambience. Disc one, my personal favorite, begins with the monumental "Atlantis Rising," nearly forty minutes of glacially drifting tones and harmonics. It swells up from the depths with soothing waves of sound that remind me of both Rod Modell's Autonomous Music Project and Robert Rich's seminal Trances/Drones. The listener is caught in a prehistoric tide pool, swept along by ancient waves, soothed by the psychoactive qualities of the synthwork here. Eventually the track metamorphs into holy trance music similar to that of Wiese and Grassow, lightened by the ghostly vocals of Luna. Clearly, we are channeling the powers of these ancient bodies of water, as they call to the inner seas of blood within us, the tidal movements of our own flesh. "Atlantis Rising" is one of the best Oöphoi tracks ever, and certainly the high point of this set. "Ophir" is more hushed, a relief after the intensity of its predecessor. The buffeting soundwaves continue, this time dressed with spirit-synth breaths that recall the first Tau Ceti collaboration, Celestial Geometries.

Disc two is quite different from its counterpart in the set--a much darker and spookier affair. We've descended beneath the waves for this one, treated to glimpses of strange and sometimes frightening underwater lifeforms. "Meru" is a zone of stillness reminding me of some of the tracks on Oöphoi's recent Dreams set. Eighteen minutes of evolving, phased drones pass slowly like the dreams of ancient whales. "Faroer" is the set's shortest track and also the least natural sounding. Piercing synth tones give way to almost inaudible droning that shines strange lights over a dark sea. "Piri Aeis" recalls why Gasparetti's ‘zine is titled Deep Listening--you'll have to listen closely to note all the subtle, strange changes in sound and atmospheres occurring over nearly eighteen minutes. Perhaps a little quiet for its own good, this track seems a bit too innocuous and intangible. Finally, "Ultima Thule" is even quieter, as though we've hit ocean's bottom to find ourselves under the silt and plant-life. Fans of the recent Dreams of Shells will find a close relative of those environments here, though the final minutes of the track offer unusually bright synth tones.

Archaic Oceans's first disc is worth the price of admission here, and far outshines the second. Nevertheless, as a total, it's one of the finest examples of drone-based ambient I've heard this year. In a year especially marked by too many releases in this vein, it's comforting to know the masters of the form continue to show how it's done. This double-disc set merits my highest recommendation and is likely to appear on my best-of-2004 list.

Four Short Pieces is exactly that: four ambient tracks that clock in at around ten minutes a piece. "Medusa" opens the set with high-pitched synth drones that form a creepy cloudbank, covering the landscape. "De Hoc Satis" is even more minimal--bassy, metallic drones seem to effect the walls of your listening space, drawing them ever closer. "Frozen Stream" is the stasis-sound of waters rushing, married with some extremely psychoactive effects, as if one is captured within a droplet of water as it blasts noisily along. Finally, "Nightwinds," which reminds me of Karl Edward Wagner's creepy fantasy stories, is a gorgeous assembly of ambient tones that ebb and flow peacefully. The sonic swells on this track are very well done, and come as something of a relief after the punishingly quiet drones on the rest of the album. A highlight.

I have a difficult time recommending Four Short Pieces. As you can tell from the brevity of my descriptions, it's a particularly one-note album, which lacks both diversity and album-length flow. It feels like a collection of tracks that fit uncomfortably on other Tau Ceti releases--they fit uncomfortably together on this disc, as well. If you cannot get enough static droning in your life, this may be for you--in my case, I found it unsatisfying and one-dimensional.

Next is Somnium, a seventy-two minute track that proves Tau Ceti can create dark ambient with the best of them. As with many Umbra releases, Somnium is mastered to an extremely low volume, suggesting the artist would have you listen at quiet levels. In my home's listening space, I normally have the volume set to between ten and sixteen--for this release, I had it set to twenty-eight, and it still felt quiet! Headphone listening is recommended, especially for listeners in noisy cities or suburbs. Deep and dark drones, cold as the surface of the moon, underpin strange ritualistic sounds--perhaps synth or processed vocals. The pace here is slow, but progressive. The spiraling, abyssal drones work their way beneath the skin by sheer force of staying power. I found myself zoning out repeatedly, no matter what I was doing while the CD played. Aficionados of both Gasparetti's Athlit and the collaboration Celestial Geometries (not to mention the more minimal CDs by Thomas Köner) will find the dark vastnesses of this album appealing, especially for the dark hours of night listening. The mood here is bleak but appealing--this sort of minimalism may not be on your everyday listening menu, but it's a fine example of the form. I'm running out of descriptors for this one--if you enjoy any of the artists I've mentioned, Somnium is sure to be a worthy addition to your collection.

If you found the previous Tau Ceti album reviewed to be a little on the sunny side of life, don't worry. Todstimmung or "death tendency" brings his dark drones to the world of the afterlife with the expected ghostly result. Thankfully, we aren't subjected to Halloween-styled Lustmordian creaking and shrieking here. Instead, Todstimmung presents three long tracks of ambience that act as a mirror to the spirit realm, where all our past ancestors dwell, wisps of spectral light pointing the way forward. If humans could gaze through a mystical window into the everyday habits of dead spirits, "Todstimmung" would be the soundtrack. I first played this track while walking along a deserted street in my town, after dark, and succeeded in creeping myself out in a masterful way. One can almost see the specters open their mouths, with the sound of Tau Ceti's electronically-rendered atmospheres issuing forth as their language. Very satisfying, but not for the faint of heart. Oöphoi comes on board for track two, "Crossing the Styx," a surprisingly bassy and reverberant zone (not unlike Oöphoi's own Behind the Wall of Sleep). This is a rather static track, with entrancing soundwaves that threaten to swallow the listener whole. At over twenty-five minutes, it's a little taxing on the patience--it seems to be satisfied endlessly iterating, like a ghost forced to enact its last moments forever throughout eternity. Finally, another twenty-five minute track, "Agni" is a sonic invocation of the Vedic god of sacrificial fire. Appreciators of Klaus Wiese's meditational works created with Tibetan singing bowls will find many stylistic similarities here. Again, the tendency to fill half an hour with static synth drones prevails. In this case, it's a breathlessly intense drone, though suited more toward passive listening than an engaged experience. As a meditation aid, the final two tracks of Todstimmung would seem perfectly apt. As satisfying, engaging listening, they fall somewhat short of the mark.

Our final Tau Ceti album is also death related. Todahnlich is a stylistic relative of Todstimmung, though is, quite frankly, a far superior album. The spirit-realm drones are present here, but are pleasingly conjoined with complimentary synth passages and bass vibrations that break up the relentless monotony marvelously. "In Crystallum Densare" reaches Klaus Wiese levels of spiritual stillness over its twenty minutes, a haunted zone containing some mysterious and exciting noises that simultaneously intrigued and frightened me. The glacial pace is present, but there are enough sonic embellishments to captivate the listener as it lulls into a meditational trance. This is the imaginary soundtrack to barren moors, grey days, deserted planets, spirit dreamings. It's a claustrophobic atmosphere, though unthreatening and progressive, like the best of Oöphoi's work. The second track, "In Lapidem Convertere," could be an outtake from Subterranea. It's a great companion piece to "In Crystallum Densare"--slowly shifting, otherworldly, and recalling zones both celestial and earthbound. The synthwork feels focused, never lapsing into endless repeated drones. I've found this album to be an effective companion before bed, its gently cycling synth tones ushering the listener into Morpheus's realm effortlessly. If Nebula's Path of White Clouds or the oft-mentioned Subterranea appeal to you, Todahnlich is a must-have.

As a whole, Tau Ceti's most impressive work still lies in his collaborations with Oöphoi. It seems Gasparetti's command of the genre reins in Cosimi's tendencies to let the synths do all the work. While Somnium is an interesting, if not completely engaging work, the real gem here is Todahnlich--if your pocketbook allows only one Tau Ceti disc, this is the one. Tau Ceti's appeal is somewhat diluted with lackluster releases on Umbra so far. Some of the tracks would benefit from a little editing--there are shells of excellent albums in there; all that's required to release them is a little focus. Clearly Tau Ceti's a name to watch, but, so far, his best solo work appears to be ahead of him.

Perceptual Defence appeared on the Umbra World of Shadows compilation with a track I'd described as similar to Tau Ceti's work. His debut CD, Sounds from Space, is completely different and utterly bizarre when compared to the other Umbra releases I've heard. It's a single track, fifty-five minutes long--an interstellar suite of sorts, as evidenced by the album's subtitle, "The Deep Space Program." I'm at a loss to describe where each of the five parts begins and ends, but the album flow is there, as if it was created all in one live performance or marathon recording session. Electrical chittering opens the album, spasmodically signaling the coming lift-off into space. Gradually, we realize we're not in the modern, sleek spacecraft of the modern era, but in a flying saucer straight out of The War of the Worlds. In fact, it seems Perceptual Defence has borrowed a lot of his musical cues from sci-fi sound effects and soundtracks from fifties cinema. No pretentious modern-ambient treatise this, but instead a throwback to the days of Louis and Bebe Barron, sound effects LPs, and early electronic music. Synth drones are embellished with utterly weird effects--bloops, bleeps, laser noises, klaxons, and processed sound effects (an immediately recognizable siren can be heard) are all featured heavily on the earlier parts of the album. Things calm down a little later, as we continue to journey deeper into space. This calming is typified by experimentally leaning synth and electronic treatments that portray a truly alien sonic element. Things never calm enough to call this ambient music in the traditional sense of the term. It's more an exploration in different tones and effects that occasionally tested my capacity for utter strangeness. There's an analog or classic electronic feel to most of the album. Much of Sounds from Space reminded me of yesteryear's exotica LPs--sci-fi noises and unusual tonalities that are not meant to soothe the listener.

Deep space, in Perceptual Defence's world, does not care. It's cold and inexplicable. Like true space travel, it requires a listener who is bravely prepared to experiment and test ones own limits. Sounds from Space is absolutely not for everyone. It's fifty-five minutes that will intrigue, confuse, delight, and often frustrate the listener. Those who feel ambient music is a bit too "easy" will certainly find enough impenetrably obtuse passages to please them. Those looking for deep space drifting without the crunch of experimentalist tendencies are advised to steer well clear of this one. It's a refreshing anomaly in the Umbra catalog.

Lastly on our trip through Umbra Records' recent offerings, we have Sostrah Tinnitus's follow-up to the fantastic Nebra CD from earlier this year. As I wrote about Sostrah Tinnitus's previous efforts, Favo di Fiele is a must for fans of Alio Die's ritual ambient music. A flair for intensity of drone, coupled with natural sound effects, processing, and creative use of traditional instruments colors Sostrah's work, making each album a peer of Stefano Musso's groundbreaking ambient project.

Favo di Fiele has a few less tracks than the usual Sostrah disc, choosing instead to stretch out into longer, more improvisatory ambient work. "Passo di Parca" exemplifies the Sostrah Tinnitus sound--entrancing synth drones, bird calls, and a faded sitar or zither intertwine into a psychedelic ambient passage that grips immediately and doesn't let go. Similarities to Alio Die are, as usual, present--think of this as a combination of Alio Die's Under an Holy Ritual and Robert Rich's album with Lisa Moskow, Yearning. The same dusty atmosphere prevails, but with lo-fi production values. "L'umida afa che Fluttua dal Suolo" (the sultry humidity fluctuating from the ground) is also Alio Die-esque, recalling the isolationist, post-industrial tendencies of the tracks on The Door of Possibilities. Intensely dark stuff. "Ascensional Air Columns" is a cold autumn day, leaves and plant detritus making imaginary circulations as they're swirled by the prevailing winds. "Lento Crescere di Muffe" (according to Google, the title loosely translates as the “slow growing of mildew”) is Sostrah Tinnitus's answer to Aphex Twin's "Blue Calx"--the microcosm of tiny plant organisms slowly swelling, moving outward, ever expanding. "Favo di Fiele" (a play on words in Italian that means "honeycomb of bile") doesn't quite live up to the angsty title. It's a glurpy track of shifting drones, both dark and bright, enlivened by cicadas and other unrecognizable samples. The monstrous "Radiolaria" closes the album on a fantastic note. A lonely saxophone distantly scronks out "My Favorite Things," until the harmonic drones take over. This track is far more minimal than the rest of the album, but no less psychoactive. If you'd previously thought Alio Die had the market cornered on this specific niche of the ambient field, you owe it to yourself to hear "Radiolaria"--it's the kind of ambient that inspires a lifetime's devotion to the curiously addictive genre.

Once again, Sostrah Tinnitus (on his third disc in 2004!) does not disappoint. The tracks on Favo di Fiele seem a little less developed than those on Nebra which leads me to believe this might be older work receiving its first official release here. Nevertheless, this is a worthy addition to Sostrah's burgeoning discography and a fine listen from front to back. While not as essential as Nebra, in my opinion, Favo has its share of stunners and is sure to appeal to Alio Die fans around the globe--it seems criminal that music like this should be limited to only ninety-nine copies worldwide. Don't miss this one.

All of these releases are available via the Deep Listenings website.