Rising Taiwanese sonic and visual experimentalist SABIWA teams up with Italian duo Queimada and Nathan L. for the release of strange and beguiling new EP Sons of _, marrying disembodied field recordings and processed orchestral instrumentation with coruscating noise and half-forgotten Taiwanese folklore.

“We wanted to achieve a unique sonic experience that gently pulls listeners into a calm, introspective realm of sound, visuals, and hidden stories,” write the trio. All based in mainland Europe, but bringing divergent and itinerant influences to the mix, SABIWA, Queimada, and Nathan L. each represent complementary elements to the deep and unpredictable elixir that makes up their collaborative debut Sons of _. The record is characterised by SABIWA’s heavily processed singing voice fluttering and glitching in strange, coded languages within a heavenly but deserted CGI cathedral rendered from crashed software. Italian brothers Marco and Lorenzo Colocci (Queimada and Nathan L. respectively) are both well versed musicians, exposed to classical schools as well as the outerspheres of experimental music. Their contribution to Sons of _ can be felt in its no-input thumps, its crawling of mechanical insects, its devastating waves of crushing noise. Together, the trio push at sonic realities and temporal structure to form an indecipherable messaging. “A rediscovery of a new self, unrecognisable from its former shape,” they offer.

Key moment “Nothing blue – 無憂無慮” feels culled from a dreamlike, alien mythology, fugged into disparate and divergent worlds as if the dust from a newly-collapsed Tower of Babel has still not settled. The track loops and swoons with raw distortion, James Bond fever dream strings, and SABIWA’s mystifying vocal experimentation before introducing a lolloping rhythm of church bells and crackling, staticky snare. Next, “What is true is not true -無明大夢” almost proceeds like a song. It has a recognisable rhythm – rare for Sons of _ – and a processed vocal loop maintains a riverine melodic flow. But throughout, its foundations splinter and shiver under the weight of malfunctioning modems screaming to escape. Later, “The Root of Unwilled Existence – 無自性” breaks apart under its own weight. Clouds of noxious gas swallow whole its harmonic voicing as mischievous transversal pixies haunt a psychedelic, reverberant inner chamber.

Cover photo by @yoteng087