Releasing December 4. Pre-orders available now.

The first seeds of this EP were planted in Marseille, on the rooftop of Le Corbusier’s Unité d’Habitation.

The Mediterranean breathes in slow cycles, while distant voices rise and dissolve into the air. It was here that the structural outline of these pieces first revealed itself, shaped by light, salt, and movement.

Rather than describing the place, the music seeks to inhabit its atmosphere. Small piano figures gather like droplets, forming brief constellations before dispersing under the marine breeze that travels inland toward the sunburnt hills surrounding the city. Memory functions not as recollection but as climate: a field in which gestures repeat, shift, and fade.

The works unfold through layered piano lines moving at slightly divergent tempos, creating subtle phasing and suspended harmonies. Some patterns return like tides; others drift freely, carried by invisible currents. Each voice could exist in solitude, sparse and weightless, yet their intersections form a living architecture, a dwelling made of resonance, air, and duration.

In Mediterranean cultures, the meeting of sea and land has long been understood as a space of exchange: winds carry scents, languages, and histories across borders. These compositions mirror that permeability. Interior and exterior dissolve; the recorded room becomes porous; the environment enters the instrument, and the instrument returns it transformed.

The improvisational language draws from multiple lineages: the devotional intimacy of Emahoy Tsegué-Maryam Guèbrou, the temporal shifts of Steve Reich’s phasing, the environmental sensibility of Japanese Kankyō Ongaku, the extended durations of Simeon ten Holt and Morton Feldman, and the lucid lyricism of Roedelius. Yet the guiding principle remains one of reduction, allowing sound to arrive, settle, and depart without insistence.

Recorded at home with windows open, the album welcomes the surrounding air, distant movements, and subtle resonances into its fabric. What remains is not a document of a place, but a field of relations: between memory and present time, between structure and drift, between listening and inhabiting.

These pieces invite a mode of cohabitation rather than attention. They are not performed for the listener, but alongside them, as weather, as light, as the slow passage of wind across a surface.