Ouroborindra is music that has leaked from a world at an angle a single degree different to our own, where Philip K. Dick is rightfully acclaimed as the 20th century’s greatest realist author and where George Lucas is less popular than Quatermass creator Nigel Kneale. The beautiful sleeve appropriately contains a quote from Kneale’s 1972 BBC TV play The Stone Tape, in which the walls of a house have acted as a recording device, capturing moments that when replayed later are perceived as a haunting.
Again, notional library idents:
It Is Narrow Here
—immobile synth drone, church bells processed to sound like clattering shutters, female voice shudders
—space frequencies and bleary synth calls obscure negative ticktock heartbeats; exotic – features sitar
The Obsidian Pyramid
—falling sine tones spark electro-yoghurt pot percussion; cool, like the grave
—light, sophisticated viola of Zann segues into the absolute blackness of deep space
These records are nostalgic, but it is a counter nostalgia that aims to balance the scales of the passed, that obliquely references the near-hidden. A nostalgia for what gets discarded, for geography and physics textbooks that accidentally reveal the hidden dreams of a nation. These records are nostalgia as a starting point, an on-going process; they are clues rather than a map.