Whether under the alias of his main project, Warmth, or taking on the more propulsive, percussively driven submerged-techno sounds of side project SVLBRD, Agustín Mena has quietly been releasing some of the most emotionally affecting and atmospherically dense ambient music of the past decade, each subsequent release quickly revealing itself as an instant stand-out in a genre often characterized, and unfortunately, even more often misunderstood, by its ability to blend in. Stratus, released on the always amazing Faint label, follows through confidently on the promise of utter transcendence-through-aural-displacement hinted at on the previous Svalbard EP, confirming Mena's ability to stand alongside ambient-dub heavy hitters such as Gas and The Sight Below while also creating a sonic space entirely and unmistakably his own, guiding the listener through mist laden passages and subterranean caverns, upper atmospheres and abandoned inner sanctums; a series of environments both remote and alien, harsh and unforgiving, transmitted to the listener through the safe remove of a good pair of headphones.
Prelude, acting as a sort of atmospheric primer for the journey ahead, settles like a thick mist over a lush alien ecology, marshlands buzzing with the vibrations of hidden life teeming just below still, glowing waters. A tranquil drone expands outwards, celestial arms of light reaching out and containing all within, a thin blanket of light covering the listener in its soft protective glow. Vessel, as suggested by its title, moves through the depths of endlessly expansive, unknown waters with the navigational determination of a deep sea vessel on some mysterious trajectory. Static washes and subtle, half formed rhythmic sweeps propel the craft forward, swirling like thousands of tiny bubbles as a deep pulsating bass throbs, emerging from hidden pockets of air and gurgling to the surface to reveal a deep, aquatic heartbeat.
Where Vessel feels submerged and precise, a cold sheen of metal slicing through water like a blade, Petrichor is dry and earthly, each thump of bass seeming to kick up a cloud of dust, the overwhelming vastness of open waters traded for the oppressive sun-baked heat of open sky over desert sands. Despite a name that alludes to the smell of fresh rain, there is no moisture to be found in this environment, characterized by rolling dunes towered by ancient mysterious monuments to forgotten gods, the shadows of which provide the sun's only relief, and the sound of settling sands accentuated only by the dry fluttering of wings circling overhead in complex, mirage-like patterns.
Stripped of all percussive elements and unburdened by the weight and rigidity of rhythm, tracks like Stratus and Spheres are lent a space and lightness that allows them to float in the upper atmospheres of contemplation and reflection; dense, shifting atmospheres filling the spaces of the mind and taking the shape of the listener's own inner landscapes. Flint, alternatively, uses percussion as a way of furthering it's own atmospherics; each percussive thud sounding organic yet precise, immediately recognizable as the millennia-old sound of hand striking animal skin stretched over hollow drum, yet augmented into an almost super-natural sense of softness which reaches outwards on each percussive hit to meet the sustained, inward drifting drones halfway.
As Stratus comes to a close, the listener is thrown back in to the noise and bustle of the real world, this time without the ease of transition to prepare them once again for the sudden change in atmospheres. After a journey to the most remote reaches of space and mind comes to a close, human interaction and conversation might feel overwhelming and overstimulating. A new realization arises; that sometimes, it is in these moments of utter remove from mankind, of contemplation through isolation, that we can find the most unexpected and profound moments of comfort and tranquility, and the space to truly appreciate our environment, and the depth of our own minds.