Being on 12k, I can probably be economical with the word count here, as the following can be taken for granted with each of these two releases: minimalist, microscopic attention to detail (extending to the moody landscapes on the covers, as you can see below) and fanatical obsession with the qualities of sound.

Jodi Cave’s record is the more nature-fixated and minimalist, overlaid with all manner of tiny scrabbly sounds, a few of which I’ll somewhat misguidedly try to describe.  “For Myria (One)” sees him cooking bacon in a tent on a rainy day (probably), all delicious crackles and spatter.  After this comes “Rara A” during which Cave takes label heid bummer Taylor Deupree for a stroll through the park, kicking stones at birds as they go; stopping off for an ice-cream (of course). “Untitled” is a churchy drone, while “For Myria (Two)” features beautiful music box tones.

Pjusk’s electro-acoustic sculptures are buried under vinyl crackle and tape hiss.  Amongst this quiet noise, instruments play slow, sad stabs of melody – guitar in “Rim”, piano in “Kontur”.  Stunning mournful choral and classical splinters emerge through cracks as in a less abrasive Philip Jeck performance.  Towards the end “Anelse” and “Rom” feature muffled beats, vocal fragments and keyboard sounds not entirely dissimilar to those you would find in a Boards of Canada record.

My instinctive preference was for the lusher Sart, but I can feel that the subtleties of For Myria mark it out as a grower.  Both are available from the 12k shop.