Tape loops are a closed path, a cyclic river, a ring around a far planet. They’re like our memory continuously reenacting an artifact that belongs to a precise point in time, brought back in a process of recall where that artifact slightly and slowly becomes imprecise and shifted. An unrested repetition carved into an old pavement, in a city where every generation leaves a new mark, a new incision and maintains an endless process of birth and deterioration. Marta De Pascalis’ Sonus Ruinae’s synthesizers sounds are gently laid on that closed path, put in a locked repetition and engaged in that eternal dance. Her album is a canvas of harmonics and a sublime place where things are whole, where your first listen is engraved just like that ancient city’s pavement, and Marta endlessly writes beauty on top of it, layer after layer.

Brand new, never played, unsealed (slightly bent corner)