Across three Ghosted records Oren Ambarchi, Johan Berthling and Andreas Werliin have expanded the possibilities of the guitar-bass-drums trio with slippery yet rigid, kosmische yet earthy music that challenges the idea time exists in neatly parcelled, indivisible increments.
For Serpentine they’re joined by multi-instrumentalist Christer Bothén, who contributed Donso n’goni to Ghosted I’s opening track. Bothén’s first instrument is the bass clarinet. In the 70s he studied the donso n’goni, a six-stringed ‘hunter’s harp’ from the Wassoulou region in Mali, eventually bringing him into Don Cherry’s orbit. He’s also versed in Gnawa, learning guinbri in Marrakesh. This worldliness ripples through Bothén’s 1984 record Trancedance,…
You need to be logged in to view the rest of the content. Please Log In.
Art is rarely as orderly as a gallery — or a rock album, for that matter. Even when restraint is involved, even when it’s finished, shit’s all over the place in the studio. That’s kind of the point, really: There’s always a bit of chaos in getting the ideas down. 
An atonal meeting of the minds with 
In 1923, the young French novelist André Malraux trekked through the Cambodian jungle to Angkor, the ruins of the ancient capital city of the Khmer Empire, to steal bas-reliefs from the Banteay Srei temple. He intended to sell the art in London or New York, but was caught and sentenced to three years in prison.
The ’60s gave us many artistic firsts from pop and performance art to psychedelic rock and free jazz to interspecies music-making between humans and whales. From saxophonist Paul Winter’s Common Ground to Judy Collins‘ Whales and Nightingales to pioneering synthesist Bernie Krause’s Ocean Wonders, musicians have engaged in and recorded a call-and-response with these massive sea mammals that has produced some singular sonic wonders and oddities. With his cheekily titled new album, Orcas’ Greatest Hits, 
Between 1799 and 1804, Alexander von Humboldt, a German environmentalist and the father of modern geography, traveled across Latin America, mapping the terrain, discovering the sources of the Orinoco River, cataloging animal and plant species, and gathering stories he heard along the way. Two hundred years later, American experimental duo 
A sonic essay on memory, 
The feedback loop between video games and music runs deep. Obviously, there’s music’s enriching influence on games — see the banging, drum & bass sensibility of the Wipeout racing series. Going the other way, the interactive medium’s aesthetics and sensibility have wormed their way into the output of a new generation of artists like Bladee; the Swedish rapper’s records are so jam-packed with deep-lore nuggets and sonic worldbuilding flourishes that they almost feel like video games in and of themselves. As listeners, we don’t just listen: we enter.
Shoving into the world in 2021 with the intense Blackhaine collaboration ‘Did U Cum Yet / I’m Not Gonna Cum’, Hull-born sonic and visual artist 
As 
Cellist and composer 
New York-based percussionist and sound artist 
Hiding your identity is a bold move in 2026. In this year of stalker glasses and flock cameras and algorithmic analysis of every internet move you make, it might seem futile to try to keep your name out of things. But 
Brighton on the English South Coast has always been weird. It was built almost from scratch as a hedonistic playground by the foppish Prince Regent, later King George IV, just over 200 years ago — and ever since has attracted waves of freaks, cultists, ravers, lowlifes, and oddballs. Nowadays, it’s beset by gentrification, chain restaurants, media folk and wellness gurus, but just under the surface it still has the air of “a town that is constantly helping the police with their enquiries” as the writer Keith Waterhouse put it in the 1970s. And now, as ever, hidden away from the seafront clubs and big indie gigs, it has a wellspring of genuine eccentricity clinging on to its surreality in basement flats, weird jam sessions above pubs, smelly poetry readings, and weird…