Solo cello improv. Single take. One mike. Track 1 recorded in two parts at the Silver Road venue (a converted water tank) in Lewisham. Tracks 2, 3 + 5 recorded at the OTO Project Space in Dalston. Track 4 recorded at home in Sutton. All tracks recorded on an Olympus LS-11.released February 27, 2017

Solo cello improv. Single take. One mike. Track 1 recorded on an Olympus LS-11 then fed through a Korg/Microbrute set-up with some keys held down. Track 3 played with a whole load of reverb. Track 4, solo cello with a postcard woven through the strings. Track 5 recorded at the Cafe OTO. All the rest recorded at home in New Cross.released January 14, 2016

'Parapet In Golden Light' is the first release under the Sphagnum Moss moniker, invoking longform tonal shifts and structures with an emphasis on density. The two pieces blur the lines between acoustic and electronic sound sources, physical and synthetic, high fidelity and low fidelity, taking a home organ and a harmonium as sonic starting points, respectively. The title of the release comes from an artwork by the American painter, Paul Lehr. Written, recorded and produced by Oli Barrett.

"Look, I’m not offering excuses here, except... I guess I just want to give you some semblance of who I am. Or who I was at least. How it went... What led me all the way out here..." There The Sun Also Rises is a short story and album by Oliver Barrett; both parts inspired by and extrapolating on the other. Told by a man looking back on his life, the things he's left behind, and all the decisions that led him to up to a single revelatory experience, the story is both a wide-eyed, cosmic science fiction tale and a deeply personal reckoning with what has come to pass. The download includes the accompanying short story, 'There The Sun Also Rises', as a pdf file.released April 30, 2021 All music written, recorded and produced by Oliver Barrett.

"When we moved into our current flat, there was an old TV aerial wedged precariously between two sections of the roof. It had obviously been blown down years ago and it was now stuck there about 25 feet above the front door to the building. I'd see it every time I came home and worry about it falling off one day and coming down on somebody in the street below but we couldn't really do anything about it. After we'd been in this place about three years we had to get a couple of roofing tiles replaced after they'd been damaged by a scaffolding company doing some work next door though, so we got the aerial taken down off the roof at the same time. Turns out it was pretty much entirely kept up there by this moss patch that had built up around it. This self-contained little ecosystem up on the roof. For a week after it came down a bunch of seagulls divebombed the windows around our flat. I guess they'd been using the aerial as a perch or something. Seagulls hold a grudge. Anyhow, when life gives you weathered old tv aerials..."

A strange tone you’ve been hearing in your dreams suddenly made manifest and no, actually, not that one at all. Several synths left out in the rain and then dried in the tumble drier on the wrong setting. A storage box of rhythms with holes in the knees that you’ve grown out of suddenly pitching down the stairs. Like a lift shaft falling down a lift shaft. The violent internal reaction after the person coming the other way moves to avoid you in the same direction you do, and then does it again. Swirling moss agate. Running to catch the match-winning ball after stepping off the waltzer. New MIDI for old rope. Four choirs in full voice but the ground feels wrong and somebody’s plugged their throats with last summer’s molasses. A juddering sycamore seed, caught in the grille. Budimir Šobat slowly coming up for air but then thinking better of it. A lull. A grip. A curve.

"I am sunk in a sort of joyful oblivion. Deep, deep down I realise that the struggle is quite eternal, and that to evade the consequences of the struggle is to sell the soul. And one of the first consequences of the struggle is the fundamental aloneness of one's most important acts. I think this has always been the mystic's experience. Contact with the spiritual world is single, even though the desire is for the unitary life of unity with all creation. The stigmata appear in the solitary cave, but the eating and drinking is with the brethren." – Michael Tippett