Playful synthesized patterns peal and ring out like bells. Clustered keys climbing and clambering through scales, then falling in showers of short, interlocking sequences – rapid, repeating refrains. Cascades of clipped circuits that chase one another as strings swoon, and muted modular machines alternately wheeze like pipe organs and woodwinds, or whistle like courting birds. Where gentle aural aquatics of lively “IDM” fractal wow and flutter create not seas but small ponds of tranquility. Where classical arrangements eschew complexity to craft soothing electronic lullabies and nursery rhymes. Abstract atmospheres of binary buzz, alien theremin, and glacial sighs give way to angelic glissando, happy harpsichords, a serene shimmer – the vibe that of spying a rainbow right after a storm. Kosmische concepts of vintage arcade game alerts and alarms sit side-by-side with slow graceful compositions where solos are wistful, but not melancholic, as if surrendering to seasons` change, respectfully and without regret. 

For me what sets the music of Inoyama Land apart from that of their “Kankyo Ongaku” contemporaries is their humour. They seem to further fortify their foundations of formal training and academic theory with a sense of fun. Thumbing their noses at purists in much the same way as Simon Jeffes and his Penguin Cafe Orchestra did. 

Inoyama Land`s Swiva is out now via Ext Recordings.