Imagine the vastness of space.  The stars, the nebula, the staggering distances covered by the elegant glide of galaxies.  This is how we can measure what’s small.

The European Space Agency’s Integral gamma-ray observatory floats serenely above us, a metallic proof of Kubrick’s waltz.  It sits and absorbs, sending its results to the eager consumers of its data below.  Here it is in its artist rendered glory:

Quantum theory suggests that, at the smallest scales, space should be grainy and that these grains would affect the way gamma rays travel from their explosive source to our friendly floating observatory.  A slight deflection off a grain, magnified by a mindbendingly vast distance is going to turn into something measurable.  You’d hope.

[apologies to physicists for this next bit] Max Planck’s oft quoted unit (the perfectly named Planck Unit) can be used to describe what some people see as the smallest thing in the universe.  It’s 10^-35 of a meter.  That’s pretty small.  Indeed, in some circles that’s the smallest possible thing.

Integral’s data suggests these grains may be smaller than that.

Things existing beneath the idea of most small, consequently become infinitely large.  Where a sense of scale is depreciated to the point of no scale, we can but dream of a system of vertiginous complexity that unfolds in an equally unmeasurable moment in time.

If the data from this new realm were interpreted as music, it would be this:

Motion Sickness of Time Travel have gifted us our own data. Hints of Eno trapped in a twisting Phantom Zone, spiralling away  from his Atmospheres.  A voice phasing intermittently, in line with our audible dimension; calling out through the oscillating waves of time. A synth, programmed on a strange orbit through the two dimensional space between stereo left and right.

MSoTT has been consistently producing staggering ambient works but her latest album which came out last week sent this humble 20JFG hack on a seven hour physics binge in an attempt to even begin to describe the beauty contained within.  Which is about as bizarre a recommendation as I’ve ever given.

Motion Sickness of Time Travel – Moving Backward Through the Constellations

Moving Backward Through the Constellations is taken from Luminaries & Synastry on the ever wonderful Digitalis records.  It’s out now.

 

 

Continuing the trend for exceptional ambient releases this year comes a completely unexpected one from Diskjokke.  Given free reign by Norwegian festival Øya to create a new work for them, a trip to Indonesia and the birth of his first child have culminated in Sagara: at moments glacial and at others bubbling but (almost) never routed in any sense to western traditions of dance music.

Golotrok opens the album in fine droning style – the hum of blank nature giving way to the angelic descent of distant organ tones.  It’s eight minute duration giving it enough space to luxuriate in this grand opening before a more propulsive throbbing emerges to underpin a smattering of sounds associated with both the gamelan and balearic house.  Which works perfectly.

In contrast to MSoTT’s creation of a world Golotrok revels in the beauty of this one.  It’s one selected and captured and abstracted and curated but no less beautiful.

Diskjokke – Golotrok

Sagara is out now on Smalltown Suppersound.

Integral’s data couldn’t find any evidence of the grains down to 10-48.  So either they’re smaller than Planck’s single Unit, or maybe it simply proved there was nothing there after all.

 

 

 

Epilogue -
This post is tagged with Digitalis Recordings Smalltown Supersound