Double Geography’s Flights consists of four, fairly short, pieces – well short for “ambient” works anyway. Fogs of filtered frequencies, that the great Patrick Ryder-penned press one-sheet describes as music therapy, and likens to the fitful sleep, the attempts to snooze, beat the jet-lag, that you might manage to catch on a long distance journey. Where “external stimuli” seep through your slumber, interrupting, and influencing, your dreams. 

Musically, it`s a mist of muted chimes, a saxophone hovering, suspended in sustain and delay. A kind of gently vapourised jazz, simmering with subliminal dialogue, treated, textured, unwittingly eavesdropped, transmissions, broken whispers, and the weather. Rain lashing, lightly, against your fuselage. Flight 7`s romantic theme had me thinking of the masterful synthetic minimalism of Suzanne Kraft’s classic, Talk From Home, while the slowed and stretched tones of Flight 17 recall Four Hands` hypnotic Japanese “Kankyo Ongaku” homage, Hizou. It`s clipped trumpet-like timbres are also a ringer Visible Cloaks` mate, Motion Graphics` Brass Mechanics, perhaps spun at 33, not 45.   

As well as the vinyl, there are three digital bonuses, where the “concept” is expanded, evaporated, further. Atomizing the snippets and samples of news reports, street noise and plundered conversation, (dis)organizing them into a hushed, pulsating Orb-like ether. 

Double Geography’s Flights is out now, on Growing Bin Records.