Machinefabriek - Marijn
[Lampse]

Rutger Zudyervelt creates understated, weatherbeaten electronics with a subtlety comparable to William Basinski, sculpting twisted scraps of static and scratched piano recordings into elegantly crafted stormcoulds.

The album is meant to function as a whole and carries symphonic airs about it, with slowly baked drones and dusty details pervading the totality of Marijn.

Wolkenkrabber reaches out eagerly over ten minutes, beginning with sparse piano which decomposes into slowly growing drones that stretch out, morphing over the entirety of the elongated track.

Following on seamlessly, Schipbreauk and J'espere Ca carry the drones further, incorporating minute elements of industrial samples, which add little more that detail, allowing the subtlety to carry an encompassing feeling of detachment and distance.

Lawine bridges twenty minutes, sliding between barely audible monotones, increasingly deficient of structure and melody, like a decorated Buddha Machine, it's unclear what's changing. Oceanic piano drifts as if lost over miscellaneous strings to hollow out a cavern of feedback and echoing white noise which falls away to nothingness.