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JeJaWeDa Quartet: Weasel Walter (dr), Jeb Bishop (tb, elec.), Damon Smith (b), Jaap Blonk (v, elec.)

Washington, DC, Rhizome DC, February 2026

Dan Weiss Quartet: Patricia Brennan (v), Dan Weiss (d), Miles Okazaki (g), Peter Evans (t)

Zig Zag Club, Berlin, February 2026

Soundscapes 48: Harri Sjöström (s), Jan Roder (b), Joel Grip (b), Frank Gratkowski (f)

Wolf & Galentz, Berlin, January 2026

Gush: Mats Gustafsson (ts), Stan Sandell (p), Raymond Strid (dr)

Schorndorf, Manufaktur, Germany, November 2025

Saturday, February 28, 2026

Pöschl, Dörner, Gordoa - Native Acts (Trouble in the East, 2026)


With Native Acts, a new recording by Sunk Pöschl on drums and percussion, Axel Dörner on trumpet and electronics, and Emilio Gordoa on vibraphone, percussion, and electronics, listeners find themselves, in the most unassuming and modest of conditions, in the middle of free jazz history.

While not on the tip of every experimental listener’s tongue, these musicians have played with damn near everyone. Don’t believe me? How about a short list of Peter Brötzmann, William Parker, Paul Lytton, Alexander von Schilppenbach, Evan Parker, Harri Sjörström, and Silke Eberhard. That’s the truncated list. Dörner himself has paired with Sven-Ake Johansson (the guy played on Machine Gunfor goodness sakes) and John Butcher so often these ensembles alone would fill out a resume.

While Gordoa hails from Mexico City, he spends a great chunk of his time on the Berlin music scene. The other two musicians, Dörner and Pöschl, originate from Cologne and Munich respectively, forming Germany as the nexus of their collective activity. The three men gathered in 2021 in Berlin for PANDA Platforma, itself an intrepid power for experimental arts, and recorded Native Acts for Trouble in the East Records, which released the music some four years later on February 5, 2026.

The simplest way to say it is that this is a really strong album. I found myself at times thinking there were four or five instrumentalists, at other times, only one (or none at all!). Silence, it seems, sits in as a fourth member of the group. The opening piece, simply titled “Part 1” (there are nine total works on this recording, all of which are pragmatically titled “Part 1,” Part 2,” etc…), opens with quiet vibes, then a trumpet altered by electronics, almost unobservably so, then one low volume cymbal, and one soft drum hit. And then, in what is characteristic of this album as a whole, a drop off into total silence. The trio plays for a mere twenty seconds before leaving the listeners with a solid seven seconds of silence.

This use of silence appears again and again. Try “Part 2,” for example, during which the electronics rumble with bass more felt in the stomach than heard in the ear, then a gathering of quiet thunder, thwacking percussion, the sound of chimes or vibes played close to the microphone and feedback like screeches arch over the piece. Then at the 5:46 mark, total silence.

Quiet works often bring to my mind the word restraint, but the musicians on this album never feel to me like they are holding each other back. Actually the playing is absolutely non-competitive. Sometimes the three instrumentalists play vertical lines beside each other, sometimes a single player assumes the lead while others play accompanying work in the background, as Gordoa does around the 8:50 moment in “Part 2.” And, just as Gordoa steps forward, he drifts quietly into the back again allowing Dörner’s trumpet to take center stage before he himself grows quiet as Pöschl’s drum work closes out the work. Communion and close attention allow all members to thrive in this music society.

This is not to suggest the recording is low on energy. Just listen, for instance, to the first first four or so minutes of “Part 7.” Silence quickly lurches into a topsy-turvy slapping of percussion that itself grows into Dörner’s trumpet whipping through the electronic air. The sound cuts in and out like there is something wrong with your speakers, and by 2:20 things are really cooking and the high energy is pushed forward, forward, forward by Pöschl. Gordoa’s vibes soon assume a leadership role again until at 3:30 Dörner’s trumpet holds a single long note with an electric soup of sound beneath.

Close attention to the music really pays off on Native Acts , and despite this being a trio recording roughly 80 minutes long, it feels so varied, awake, inventive and nuanced. I really enjoyed becoming familiar with this album, and encourage all sound travellers to check it out for themselves.

 

Friday, February 27, 2026

Billy Martin, Matt Glassmeyer, Jonathan Goldberger - State Fête (Adhyâropa Records, 2026)

By Hrayr Attarian

Perhaps the biggest challenge collaborative bands face is spontaneously creating music without sounding discordant. The trio of percussionist Billy Martin, keyboardist Matt Glassmeyer, and guitarist Jonathan Goldberger overcomes this with elegant ease. Their release State Fête is a captivating, multilayered work that puts sublime camaraderie front and center. Anticipating one another and interweaving their independent instrumental voices, the three artists paint seven cinematic soundscapes that are both vibrant and ethereal.

For instance, “Anemone” opens with sparse chiming and tolling notes, setting a somber mood. Godlberger’s blistering and angular chords bounce off Glassmeyer’s expectant refrains and Martin’s darkly resonant beats for a dramatic effect. Slowly, the delightful, dissonant repartee coalesces into a moving, melodic group improvisation. The ambience remains tense as Goldberger’s eloquent phrases punctuate the otherworldly backdrop created by Glassmeyer and Martin. The pulsating piece, with its percolating percussion and mesmerizing vamps, hints at Eastern Zen quietude.

This type of mysticism permeates the entire album regardless of the motif. “Queen Substance,” for instance, has more of an Afrocuban cadence with a futurist vibe. Groaning reverberations and rustling shakers buoy the sparse guitar tones. Goldberger then launches into a bluesy melody while Glassmeyer responds with wistful musings, playing his own invention: a reedless saxophone that sounds like a melodica. The meditative dialogue is taut and energetic, with Martin propelling the tune forward with his thundering polyrhythms.

Elsewhere, “Jan Hooks” opens with a Levantine theme, with Glassmeyer’s plaintive lines blending with Goldberger’s simmering strums, creating a lyrical melody. Martin’s alternating sharp, crisp thrums and the sonorous thumps give the track its Middle Eastern rhythm. Glaassmeyer continues to coax out of his reedless saxophone a warm and languid solo. As the performance evolves, it becomes more like a serene nocturne, further enhancing its poetic feel.

State Fête is a brilliant record, both stimulating and emotive. It deftly blends various influences into a dynamic and engaging album that showcases not only the individual musician’s originality but also the ensemble inventiveness of this seamless partnership.

Thursday, February 26, 2026

John Butcher / Ute Wassermann / Martin Blume - Leaflight: Close Calls (FMR, 2025)

By Martin Schray

Over the last two years I have hardly listened to another artist as much as John Butcher (okay, except for Dave Rempis). No wonder, since the 71-year-old saxophonist sets an almost relentless pace when it comes to his releases, with ten in 2025 alone and another CD already scheduled for 2026. One could actually just listen to his music and be quite busy with that. One of his latest projects is a trio with vocal artist Ute Wassermann and drummer Martin Blume - an unusual lineup, but then again, what about John Butcher’s projects is usual? Wassermann studied fine arts at the University of Fine Arts in Hamburg and also completed classical voice training. Her work combines composition, improvisation, sound, and performance art. Blume has been one of the most important drummers in improvisational music for around 40 years. Through the use of numerous objects, including those not typically associated with music, he constantly expands the sound, distinguished by his pronounced quasi-compositional sensitivity. The musicians’ openness to all possible soundscapes naturally provides excellent conditions for interesting music.

What is immediately striking Leaflight: Close Callsis the incredible range of Wassermann’s voice, which at first is not necessarily recognizable as such. It oscillates between a second saxophone, bird whistles, wind noises, a singing saw, a synthesizer, or even a plectrum running along the strings of a guitar. This makes the music seem powerful and exciting, but also mature and well thought-out. Martin Blume contributes to the improvisation as an equal solo partner, his drumming carrying the other two on his hands as if he was a magician. Of course, this all sounds more like new classical music, especially when Wassermann’s voice is clearly recognizable as such at the end of the first piece. But who cares about categories or genres, if everything is so wonderfully refined and elegant, but completely delicate and restrained. Especially “Call 2”, the longest piece, is a perfect example of this.

Most of all, the backbone of this album is Butcher’s saxophone playing. In “Call 8” it also presents itself as powerful and earthy, though not loud at all, testing the limits of hearing as so often (even more clearly in combination Wassermann’s voice), but there is an undeniable emotional depth and sheer beauty in his playing that goes beyond technique and concept. He is therefore often compared to Evan Parker, and not without reason. Like Parker, he has revolutionized saxophone playing with his sonic explorations in solo recordings, but also in other formations. Butcher’s music is always connected to the space around it (here the LOFT in Cologne). In the case of Leaflight: Close Calls, the music has almost esoteric, even psychedelic moments. It floats through the room and carries you away without the listener noticing. A truly wonderful recording.

Leaflight: Close Calls is available as a CD and as a download. You can buy and listen to it on Martin Blume’s Bandcamp site:

Wednesday, February 25, 2026

Cecil Taylor New Unit – Words and Music the last bandstand (Fundacja Sluchaj, 2026) *****

By Paul Acquaro

I recall the night of April 23, 2016 fairly well. I was seated towards the right side, somewhat towards the back, of the seats that had been set up in the big open space of the new Whitney Museum. I recall the set-up facing east-ward, towards Brooklyn, though the liner notes mention overlooking the Hudson River. Regardless, it had been only a few days before that I saw an announcement on Facebook that a performance by Cecil Taylor had been added to the series accompanying the exhibition showcasing his life's work. Wow. I had been waiting for a good time to go to the museum and this seemed to be it. Lucky too, it also turned out to be the last time that Taylor would play a public concert. 

Just before the show was to begin, I did a drive-by of the display cases of Cecil Taylor's work in the exhibit. I found his graphic notations absorbing and was properly in awe of the legendary FMP box set on display. As to the concert, I was not sure what to expect, but that was secondary. Any chance to see this legend of free-jazz was enough, and I certainly didn't expect such a show of energy and intensity from the frail 87-year-old pianist.

The show began, as the listener can experience here, with a few deliberate notes from Taylor at the piano. As the ideas begin forming, tones from Okkyung Lee's cello begin shadowing the painist's twisting melodic phrases. Jackson Krall's drum rolls started coming with increasing frequency as Harri Sjöström, who had worked with Taylor in the 90s and was instrumental in organizing this appearance, added colorful motion to the growing music, his playing intertwining seamlessly with the cello. Taylor's long-time collaborator Tony Oxley, who was unable to play drums at this point, adds electronic adornments to the music. Within minutes, the group seems to gave gelled into the titular "new unit."  

The music is energetic and simply flowing. That this was the first appearance of this quartet -- and one that was pretty much spontaneously assembled just prior to the concert's start -- is almost unbelievable. Cohesive, responsive and flowing, the quartet hit all the right notes. At about 35-minutes into the spirited set, Taylor rose from the piano bench and began to speak. Sounding a bit like late period William Boroughs, Taylor's thin, lightly warbling voice began discussing something between science, history and philosophy. I recall trying to make sense of the sentences but losing the thread as soon as I thought I had grabbed a piece of it. Silly me, this too was sound, words like melodic snippets and chordal fragments. Taylor was not playing alone, the group was underscoring, accentuating and reacting like when deep into recitation, Taylor suddenly starts to mimic the trilling saxophone, playing not just with the sounds of the words but with the sounds of the big open hall. The words last almost 45-minutes and end in an explosion of applause.  

Taylor is in very good form on the recording, and apparently was not considering this to be a final performance either, however he passed away in 2018 without having given another one. So, Words and Music the last bandstand, released on the prolific Fundacja Sluchaj label from Warsaw, is the grand master's final artistic statement and it is a satisfying coda to a remarkable career. Luckily preserved, even if it was not recorded perfectly, the label has done a wonderful job in making it quite presentable. Hell, it gets five stars just because it exists - but it does muich more than that.

Tuesday, February 24, 2026

Three from Confront Recordings

By Kenneth Blanchard

Stuart Wilding / Mike Adcock – Apophony (Confront Recordings 2025)

One of the joys of Bandcamp (may its name be praised!) is that I get notices for new recordings almost every day. This week three new releases were brought to my attention. Taken together, they provide a good sample of the audio appetites that set our writers and readers apart from other jazz fans.

The title Apophony is a term indicating a change in the pronunciation of a vowel that carries some grammatical information. For example: blood, bleed, and bled. It also produces a nice resonance in English with epiphany, which my spell checker was more comfortable with.

One of the most significant indicators of free jazz is that the texture of sounds is as important, if not more so, than the narrative or emotional content of a recording. It’s a pretty good bet that if the list of instruments includes table tennis balls, Villahe hall parquet floor (Wilding) or “tuned roof slates” (Adcock), texture and percussive expressionism is going to be a major focus. That the former also plays drums and the latter piano means that the artists have not completely severed their ties to more traditional composition.

The title cut marries high pitched bell-like sounds (think of Christmas ornaments being poured into a soft bag) to mostly low-pitched, evocative notes from the keyboard. “Pipes for Paul” wraps a silky, tubular sound around electronic, almost space-jazz vibes. You have to love song titles like “Doublefish,” and “Reverse Antelope,” which begins with an angelic sound followed by bird chirps.


Dominic Lash / Mark Wastell – Polyvalent Creativity (Confront Recordings 2025)


This recording is more conventional only because the instruments are limited to electric guitar (Lash) and drums, percussion (Wastell). The opening cut, “potential” sound like the artists started tuning up and never got around to playing anything else. The sound is so rich that you will be perfectly happy with that, if genuine free jazz is your thing.

The subtitles of the five cuts (e.g., “2. commitment, 3. activation, and 4. Fulfilment”) appear to be references to Coltrane’s A Love Supreme. I need to listen to this several more times to see if it holds.



Steve Beresford / Pierpaolo Martino / Mark Sanders– Be S-Mart (Confront Recordings 2025) 


All three of these releases are worth the investment in time that they invite. By far my favorite is the last. Beresford (prepared piano, electronics, objects) Martino (double bass, electronics) and Sanders (drums). Unlike the Apophony and Polyvalent Creativity, there is a definite, if mostly one-dimensional melody. Be S-Mart consists of two parts (Dark Materials, 1 and 2). It is a high-energy expedition into a land populated with lots of unfamiliar but unmistakenly organic voices. I found myself wanting to look up to see what was perched in the branches of the next alien tree. If this is a fair sample of Confront Recordings catalog, it would pay to keep an eye on that enterprise. 

Monday, February 23, 2026

Ken Vandermark - October Flowers for Joe McPhee (Corbett vs. Dempsey, 2025)

By Stef Gijssels

In 1976, Joe McPhee released "Tenor", a solo album of ... well yes, tenor saxophone, that appears to have been an eye-opener at that time for Ken Vandermark, showing how the single instrument could combine sonic experimentation with a kind of natural lyricism, an approach which has been deeply ingrained in the musical approach of both musicians. If anyone deserves a tribute album, it's the now 86 year old icon of free jazz. 

Vandermark does it with style and class. Six pieces are partly composed, the other five are spontaneous improvisations, and to create even more variation, he switches instruments frequently: bass clarinet, tenor, Bb clarinet and baritone sax. The music is intimate, gentle, warm and welcoming while at the same time refreshing and innovative. All tracks are named after flowers, put together as a bouquet for McPhee. Like McPhee, Vandermark is a story-teller, taking the listener into the logic of each piece, moving them along with his singular dynamics of shifting intensity, speed and volume, combining emotional power with an avant-garde sense of abstraction, with deep bluesy feelings - as on the goosebumpy "Sunflowers" - and more exuberant excursions such as on "Queen Anne's Lace". 

The music is Vandermark's, without a doubt, yet the sensitivity for McPhee's sound is present in every piece.

In 2017, McPhee released a solo alto album, called Flowers, dedicated to musicians he admired. I guess Vandermark continued the tradition with a deep bow of respect and gratitude. 

What a treat. 

Listen and download from Bandcamp

Sunday, February 22, 2026

Ken Vandermark in a cistern

It's already an old video, but I came across it via the website of the Corbett & Dempsey label. In 23/10/2010, Ken Vandermark, Haavard Wiik and Chad Taylor, played at Centro de Artes do Espectáculo de Portalegre in Portugal. In the day after the concert, the musicians, the crew of Clean Feed and the recording team went to the village of Marvão. The Castle of Marvão is a well-preserved medieval castle located in the Portuguese district of Portalegre. The castle has a large cistern in which rainwater was collected to provide drinking water when the castle was under siege.

The resonance of the place proved to be the perfect invitation for Ken Vandermark to create an impromptu performance on baritone, luckily captured on camera. We know about the importance of the venue in which musicians perform, but like with John Butcher on various occasions, these resonating and echoing empty closed spaces are particularly inviting for saxophonists. 

Enjoy the interaction between artist and space!

Saturday, February 21, 2026

Tim Daisy’s Vox 3 - October Bells (Sonic Action Records)

By Charlie Watkins

Vox 3 is Tim Daisy’s trio with Fred Lonberg–Holm on cello and James Falzone on clarinet. They’ve been playing together since 2008, when their eponymous debut was released, and I believe this is now their ninth recording together – most of which have been under the name Vox Arcana. I reached out to Tim to ask what prompted the name change, and he told me that he changed the name when he started adding other musicians to the group: Macie Stewart on Roman Poems (2019) and Gabby Fluke-Mogul on A New Hotel (2023). He also hinted that the future might see even larger configurations. But the trio remains the core.

Tim Daisy describes Vox 3 as his ‘experimental music trio’. I think ‘experimental’ might be overstating it a little: compared to most things on this blog, I would say Vox 3 falls on the more accessible side of avant-garde jazz. This isn’t a criticism, just an honest acknowledgement that what you get here is not massively ‘out there’. I would instead describe Vox 3 as a storytelling trio. They have a unique language that wouldn’t feel out of place if you were sitting around a fire, listening to folk tales of danger and sorrow. It makes the music quite accessible, in spite of the freely improvised elements, and reminds me a little of the early Ornette Coleman, whose free jazz was so deeply rooted in the blues. Similarly here, the melodies are simple, but it is the highly textural use of percussion that turns these folk tunes into miniature stories.

The record starts with Escriptura, a free jazz romp, with Fred Lonberg-Holm walking the cello(!) whilst James Falzone growls away over the top. James is an extraordinary clarinettist who really shows off what the clarinet is capable of: his abstract lines and vibrant array of timbres make him a formidable presence. After a drum break, James and Fred swap over, James now accompanying Fred’s fierce improvisation. I wish we could have heard a bit more of this powerful, passionate playing on the record – you only need to listen to Fred’s recordings with Peter Brötzmann to hear what he can do – but there are only occasional hints of this throughout.

Most of the album is much more mellow in tone, especially tunes like A Simple Theme, where the cello is played arco and the clarinet much more melodic. In fact, the rest of the album is generally more like this. I think sometimes the narrative-driven compositions mean the individual tracks end up with too much variety, whereas I think the record could be more interesting if each track had a stronger individual identity. Nonetheless, I did enjoy the way the improvised elements were integrated in almost as if they were scenes in a drama, especially on The Real Sky, which I think shows all three musicians at their best and manages to hold together melody and experimentation in an interesting way.

There are enjoyable moments throughout, and you will certainly find yourself drawn into the stories they are weaving. But I think this album only hints at the potential of Vox 3, and the stories they have left to tell.

October Bells is available from Sonic Action Records on Bandcamp.

Friday, February 20, 2026

天藤丸 Ten-Toh-Maru - 夜を往くもの The One Who Walks Through the Night (Meenna, 2025)


By Eyal Hareuveni

天藤丸 Ten-Toh-Maru is, no doubt, the most experimental ensemble that Japanese pianist-composer Satoko Fujii plays in and most likely, the Japanese supergroup that most of you have never heard of.

Ten-Toh-Maru features the unique, incomparable voice artist Tenko (天鼓), co-founder of the eighties, all-women avant-rock band Mizutama Shobodan, and a frequent collaborator in the next decade with John Zorn, Ikue Mori, Fred Frith, and Zeena Parkins; Fujii (藤井郷子), who plays here mostly inside the piano; and Toshimaru Nakamura(中村 俊丸), a central figure in the Japanese free improvisation movement Onkyōkei (音響系, literally, reverberation of sound) of the nineties and early 2000s, a pioneer performer of the no-input mixer board and its feedback noises, and one of the main artists of the Japanese label Ftarri and its sub-labels Meenna and Hitori, all focusing on reductionist aesthetics.

Ten-Toh-Maru recorded its debut album, live in its first-ever performance at the Koendori Classics club in Tokyo in September 2024 (its second performance was in January 2026). 夜を往くもの The One Who Walks Through the Night consists of three untitled, free improvised pieces that merge Tenko’s wordless, free-associative vocal delivery—at times sounding like a mysterious shaman, and at other times naked and vulnerable, but always totally possessed in the moment; Fujii’s resonant percussive piano sounds that often correspond with exotic, traditional zithers and percussive instruments; and Nakamura’s subtle yet tangible, otherworldly fragmented noises. Nakamura recorded and mastered this album. The cover artwork is by Cathy Fishman, a visual artist who did most of Ftarri’s covers (and many of Otomo Yoshihide's doubtmusic label).

The music unfolds patiently, relying on attentive listening and nuanced, but completely unpredictable, textual development. The music sounds timeless, often flowing through a series of poetic, dream-like cinematic images, but with references to Japanese theatre and traditional rituals. Fujii anchors the free-form dynamics with brief, incisive textual gestures, suggesting loose forms and courses. Hopefully, Ten-Toh-Maru will keep performing and expanding their rare musical universe.


Thursday, February 19, 2026

Kris Davis and the Lutoslawski Quartet - The Solastalgia Suite (Pyroclastic Records, 2026)



One transitions into interlude; nobody starts there. Unless you are listening to pianist Kris Davis’s latest release from Pyroclastic Records, The Solastalgia Suite. Or unless beginning is merely transition.

This sets up only the first of many questions about arrival and separation in Davis’s powerfully titled suite, a sequence of songs dealing with the lived experience of watching your world crumble around you. That is to say, solastalgia: remembering when autumn in New York did not commonly see temperatures of 70 degrees Fahrenheit (November 2024, when Davis recorded this album, completed the warmest fall in the history of NOAA’s climate record), or when Calgary, the city of Davis’s youth, did not see over 120 smoke-filled hours more than its average (the city’s province of Alberta was particularly ravaged by wildfires that year).

On Solastagia Davis has been commissioned to create a work for her piano with Poland’s Lutoslawski Quartet by the Jazztopad Festival. The string quartet comprised of Roksana Kwasnikowska (first violin), Marcin Markowicz (second violin), Arur Rozmyslowicz (viola), and Maciej Mlodawski (cello) consists of a set of virtuoso string players who have performed in a variety of adventurous jazz and classical formats (see Schoenberg concertos with Jacek Kapszyk or Kenny Wheeler or Uri Caine) according to the Wroclaw/National Forum of Music website.

The piano quintet moves from “Interlude” as introduction into “An Invitation to Disappear,” where a violin sings alone until the other strings gradually circle around and console it. What is remarkable compositionally about “An Invitation” is just how little material Davis provides for herself, as she allows the strings long stretches of pianoless song. Her disappeared piano enters around the two minute mark on a melody just crooked enough to create an atmosphere of malaise and exits within one minute. At 4:12 the music resolves into silence, only to transition into a string supported homophonic piano melody that weeps in a minor key and gazes in a stunted wonder that may be the most moving moment of the entire suite. It is an invitation to hide as much as it is an appeal to gather together and witness what is being lost right in front of us.

The string harmonics and upper register piano of “Towards No Earthly Pole” depart from grounded midrange and seek outwards, a movement that does not find its likeness until the suite’s penultimate piece, “Life on Venus.” “Life on Venus,” however, is alien with its one violin sawing over rattles of strings, ominous low-bowed cello, and liquid piano chords landing in intervals between. If home cannot be compassed at an Earthly pole, it most certainly is not on Venus. Unless the alien world of Venus is now Earth, yielded to the pressures of climate change just as the soft and strange atmosphere of the music erupts into a cacophony of forte strings in the final work, “Degrees of Separation.”

And “Degrees” is violent, loud, startling in its sudden dynamic attacks, and the longest piece on the album. The music separates into quiet retreat before lurching back to shake the listener’s attention. However, only small degrees separate the human ear’s vastly different perceptions of decibels or hertz. In the arrangement of the solar system, only one degree separates our planet from its toxic twin, and only 2.5 degrees Celsius separate a livable home and a world we watch disappear.

The Solastalgia Suite leaves little room for comfortable anchoring: the music slides into transition even as it ends. The beginnings we assume are only so by our expectation of introduction. The conclusions are not certain departure, but may start again to arrive at new hemispheres of sound, or maybe single piano keys ascend out of perceivable pitch towards endings unknown.

One can listen to The Solastalgia Suite here: