TAAE’s resident lab technician Spandril mixes up an ambient dronescape of cyclic controlled chaos using customised and hand-built analogue machines alongside hand-coded digital manipulations.

“Perhaps 22/7 is the last thing I’m ever going to hear? I can’t quite identify why this tape makes me feel this way, but the silence that follows its conclusion feels eerily absolute; I’m left with the embers of the melody that has just mournfully dipped out of physical space, tracing the memory as it withers and fades, feeling as though the last sparks of the universe have just dimmed into dust. The mortality of these pieces was forewarned though, and the quiver of analogue capture is prominent – textures are coated in the coarse pockets of a deep and deathly erosion, with micro-dips in volume implanting the initial impact of a patient, mournful degeneration. 22/7 is a swan song for sound itself, crackling on the perimeter, delaying the onset of silence for just half an hour more.” – Jack Chuter, ATTN:MAGAZINE