"I have always loved taking pictures of landscapes from the window of the train with relatively long exposure times that create horizontally striated periodicities. I have transposed this process into musical composition..."

So writes Erikm in his notes accompanying this disc, and it seems the most concise description of what's happening here. Maddeningly familiar sonics are elongated into fat slabs of drone, as occasional instrumental interludes pile up beating harmonics to help tune your attention.

The Thai mouth organ interlude of "Bout De Souffle" is particularly interesting. It gives way to the overwhelmingly beautiful, thick drone that is "Cirrus". I hear it as the sonic memory of all train rides ever, morphing as the states of differing rails assert themselves. A drone duo of alto violin and cello creates a human approximation of the sound of travel in "Hallali", a grind complete with squealing brakes. Electronic sources or treatments enter and blur the edges of the specific. (Was that someone laughing?) "Pop Malacologique" begins with a rapid clacking and textured drone, giving way to another rich sonorous chord. Prolonged hisses and metallic washes accumulate before a snagged pause grabs the attention for a few seconds. The drone resumes. These sounds seem to be suspended in time, even as they are moving.

The final, longest piece, "Argentique" may display the method used to create these giant masses of sound, as a church bell is heard ringing once and then stretched and held for our scrutiny. Having recently ridden several trains through Europe myself, I can imagine these sounds in concert with the landscape sliding by, echoed in the reflections from the opposite window.