Misophone - Spectres of Our Lives

interview by Gabriele Benzing

We missed Misophone. Since the release of “Lost At Sea” in 2013, they had vanished without a trace. Now, at last, their infectious psych-pop music boxes are back, in a more ambitious form than ever: a double album of no fewer than 30 tracks, titled “A Floodplain Mind”. We asked M.A. Welsh, one half of the English duo (alongside S. Herbert), to tell us how it all came about and what the future holds for Misophone.

First, a practically obligatory question: about ten years have passed since your last album (and our previous interview) – a very long time for a band as prolific as yours. Can you tell us a bit about what’s been happening in the Misophone universe in the meantime?

I lost touch with S. a while back. He was always an elusive, solitary figure, but this time it seemed like he had disappeared beyond the edges of the world. For a while I thought the chance of a new Misophone album was gone for good. I thought it was over. Then a parcel arrived at my door. There was nothing inside except a newspaper clipping and a USB stick with a label that said: “It begins…”. It was him! Then the digital files started coming in, and “A Floodplain Mind” really began to take shape. We worked on it for years.

“A Floodplain Mind” sounds at once like a classic Misophone album and like something profoundly different, from the vocals to the overall atmosphere of the songs. How different do you think it is compared to your previous records? Do you see it more as the culmination of a journey or as a new starting point?

I don’t know whether it’s different or not. We just wanted to do things properly. We spent years fine-tuning every single sound, and I wanted to make sure you could feel that the words were stitched together with the music. Together we wanted to create something we maybe hadn’t done before. Something to be proud of! Also, the more people told us they wanted to play and sing on the record with us, the more we felt we’d better get the songs out as soon as possible. It’s not an endpoint. It’s the beginning of what we’ve always wanted to record. Although I still can’t quite believe we’ve finished it… I can’t believe it’s about to go out into the world as a fully-formed thing…

How did the recording of the new album go? Your creative process has usually seen M. take charge of lyrics and vocals, while S. handles the melodies. Has this balance shifted in any way on “A Floodplain Mind”?

We have an archive full of hundreds, if not thousands, of songs. Not a digital archive, but a physical one, with songs going back as far as twenty years. I’m sure we’re not the only ones. It has given us – and still gives us – a lot to draw on. Most of the time these songs follow the usual pattern: words and music, singing and tinkering. There was a bit more experimentation on this record, I think. On the spoken-word tracks we played with sound manipulation in ways we hadn’t before. But for the most part a familiar pattern emerged, even if somehow this time it turned out better. S. created something magical… at least to me – he found a richness in the sound worlds of these songs that maybe wasn’t there before. To me, he’s a genius.

From the opening lines of “All The Ghosts Of Evening” (“These are the days I’ll remember/ Always with a hint of sadness”), the whole album is steeped in a nostalgic sense of the past. Do you think your music could be linked to what Mark Fisher, in “Ghosts Of My Life” (drawing on Jacques Derrida), called “hauntology” – the “persistence of the no-longer” that haunts our present?

“Hauntology”… we like that idea! We’ve always been drawn to the past. Like a lot of other people. It’s a silly, naive, romantic kind of fascination. It’s made-up, but comforting and strange in equal measure. Some of these songs are very old, and as the album evolved we found we kept connecting different things to one another. The album grew out of those connections. For the few people who’ve heard our other songs, we hope they’ll appreciate these little moments.

With “William And Mary” you decided to reinterpret a song from the English folk tradition. In your view, what is it that still allows these songs to speak to our hearts today?

Old songs have gathered dust over the years, but it’s in that dust that we leave our footprints. That’s the important thing.

Another recurring theme on the album is imagery drawn from nature (hills, moors, fallen leaves, snow-covered landscapes), which often reflects an inner sense of unease. How important is it for you to rediscover the time needed to observe reality, to linger over the things around us?

I think that woods, hills, rivers and the sea are spaces where time seems less important in the short term, but you feel the importance of time in ways that the unconscious mind absorbs. They're places to feel alive in. Spending time observing is a great privilege, but it's something we don't get enough of. I wish we had more time.

On “Sky” you entrusted a Spanish-language spoken word part to Zazil Yakín Xipé: how did this idea come about?

There were some words I'd written that were too personal for me to sing, but that I wanted to be present on the album. Yakín Xipé has listened to Misophone since the beginning, but she also writes very beautiful songs herself. We thought her translation would let those words take on a new identity. We really love the contribution she made to the song, but also to the album as a whole. It was a real pleasure to have her involved.

“A Floodplain Mind” is a record richer in guests than ever. In your opinion, what's the secret to a fruitful collaboration?

When someone manages to bring a bit of extra magic, something beyond your own reach… that's the secret!

It's probably the thing that made us happiest about the album. People we admire a great deal brought their talent to the whole. It's magnificent. Every person who contributed made the songs into something more. Something we couldn't have done on our own.

Chris Vibberts is a true craftsman and artist, who contributed sitar, lapsteel, khim, marxophone and melodica with incredible generosity. A Misophone album with a marxophone on it seems fantastic to me.

Tom Rocton, an old friend, arranged and recorded a mini-orchestra on “The Flood”, out of sheer kindness, and also brought back his brilliant trombone. It's amazing to us. It's amazing! Maxence Danet-Fauvel brought his talent as an actor, a talent we simply don't have, and breathed life into an instrumental experiment. Robin Allender, whom we've admired for a long time, sent over an extraordinary guitar part, as did Boys Age. Maja Lena, Noa Mal, India Blue, Aubben Renee and Rachel Hayward lent their beautiful voices, while Satoko Takahashi, Noémie Akamatsu, Jeremy Lussiez, Florent Charpentier, Loris Martinez, Bastien Ponsart, Matthew de Roode and Lewis Jones brought something we could never have done ourselves.

We're extremely grateful for all of this. There were a few collaborations that had almost come together for this record but fell through at the last minute. Unbelievable collaborations, which I hope might come back for the next album.

If you could summon the ghost of an artist to record a song with, who would you choose (and why)?

Ivor Cutler. Because he was, is and always will be magnificent. Closely followed by Nicolae Neacșu, the great Romanian violinist, singer and storyteller. He's at once a direct link to the distant past and a reminder of music's fundamental role in the present. And when he played the violin with just a single strand of horsehair, it sounded (to paraphrase Garth Cartwright) like the sound of the Earth splitting open.

The aesthetic of your records has often been tied to the sepia tones of old photographs and postcards. Where did the choice of the autumnal-flavoured artwork for “A Floodplain Mind” come from instead?

We've always loved images frozen in the past. This time we wanted to try something different. I've been painting since I was a child. This is the first time one of my paintings has been used in the world of Misophone. I hope it works. It felt right for the themes of the music.

A certain reluctance to appear has always been one of the hallmarks of the Misophone project (there's even a track on the new album about hiding from the outside world, “Curse The Crows”). A few years ago, Hamja Ahsan wrote a kind of (ironic) manifesto for introverts (“Introfada. Lotta antisistema del militante introverso”), championing the contemplative value of introversion against a social system built on forced extroversion. Do you recognise yourself in this kind of opposition?

It doesn't make much sense, does it? We hide from the world, but we let these songs into it. I think introverts are often capable of the greatest insights, but rarely hold the most prestigious roles. Prestige isn't everything, though. Whoever has the power to decide who becomes king often keeps the crown longer than the king himself, but in unseen rooms… I'm not sure whether we're introverts or not.

Besides the CD edition put out by the French label Another Record, you also released a version of "A Floodplain Mind" on cassette with the Japanese label Galaxy Train. What is it about cassettes that fascinates you compared to other formats?

It's funny. Like a lot of other people, we grew up with an almost sacred reverence for the cassette compilations that got passed around to us. We'd share compilations, recorded straight off the radio or dubbed from other tapes (that's why I remember going to a friend's house who had a "tape to tape" deck, and we'd obsess over making the perfect compilation). For me, for a long time, vinyl carried that ghostly allure of something lost. 78s especially. But cassettes have taken on a strange, melancholy beauty of their own. It's funny to think of our music on tape with this album, but it's also really lovely. Galaxy Train has put out a lot of really interesting music over the years and we've been fans of their catalogue for a long time. It's great that they wanted to help introduce this album to a new audience. We were hoping for a vinyl release too, but we're our own worst enemies on that front. Over two hours long means an awful lot of vinyl to press!

After Songtradr's recent acquisition of Bandcamp, there's been a lot of talk about the risk that even one of the streaming platforms most attentive to artists' interests could take a turn for the worse. What do you think of the opportunities streaming services offer artists today?

I don't use Spotify to listen to music. It's a world I don't really understand. It's clear people are worried, and that's a sad thing. The internet seems to have both democratised and stripped power from music and musicians, in a strange paradox. Bandcamp has been the main platform for a lot of creative, imaginative people, and for some, a window onto a brighter future. I hope it can keep being that, and if it's not Bandcamp, I hope something else steps up to be. The world is a bewildering and increasingly terrifying place, but music, art and creation have to be the anchor we tie our hope to.

What would you recommend listening to for anyone won over by "A Floodplain Mind"?

Too many things... but here are some old friends we come back to often: "Nothing Important" by Richard Dawson, "Groung" by Zabelle Panosian, "Les 'Haïdouks' D'Autrefois" (by Taraf de Haïdouks, ed.), "Le magiche storie di Gatto Teodoro" and the theme music from "Il mio amico fantasma" (both English TV series from the Sixties and Seventies, ed.), "I Lost Something In The Hills" (by Sibylle Baier, ed.), the sound of rain, "Kalimanku Denku" (a traditional Bulgarian song, ed.), "Gena's Birthday Song" (from the Soviet cartoon "Čeburaška", ed.), "Ivor Cutler: Looking For Truth With A Pin" (a 2005 documentary about the Scottish artist, ed.), "(Tumble) In The Wind" by Jackson C. Frank, Daniel Johnston's early tapes.

You've already hinted that you're at work on a new record, describing it in terms of "wet leaves in an old, tired wood" and the "edges of a circus tent"... What should we expect from Misophone in the near future?

We've already written a new album. We hope to record it soon. It's set in a very particular place. A real place, but also a place in our minds. It's different from "A Floodplain Mind". It's a collection of songs, but also a single song. One long song! We can't wait to start working on it. And then the next one... It's good to be back.

(10/12/2023)

Broken music boxes and lost songs

by Alessandra Reale

Pop melodies with a slightly retro flavour, sonic experiments with sinister reverberations, muffled voices that seem to come from a distant world, imaginative stories capable of awakening our most primal fears. All of this comes together in the pastel-toned psych-pop of M. Welsh and S. Herbert, known as Misophone, two prolific English musicians who in roughly a decade of activity have released as many as fourteen albums (including the wonderful "Be Glad You Are Only Human"), already have hundreds of songs sitting in a drawer, and keep writing new ones without pause. M. Welsh opened the doors to us on the musical universe of Misophone, lifting the veil of mystery that seemed to hang over the band and winning us over completely with his easy manner and great generosity.

Let's start from the very beginning. Can you tell us something about your musical journeys? When did you discover your love of music? How did each of you realise you wanted to be a musician?

I've always loved music... Actually, in my childhood there wasn't much music playing at all, everything was very quiet, but there was a cassette of "Sgt. Pepper" that I remember finding when I was seven. I became obsessed with it... It made me want to go hunting for new music... I still feel the same way now...

S. can play pretty much anything he picks up, while I pick up anything I can barely manage to play.

When Misophone first started making and recording music, at the beginning it was just for fun, and it was something new every time. If anything, the pleasure of making music now is even more intense. It's a beautiful feeling... and that's because we don't write and record music the way a band or a live musician would - it's a process of constant building, and what you end up with isn't necessarily what you thought you'd started out with... The recording becomes part of the writing process... I'm sure we're not the only ones who work this way.

When and how did you two meet? How did your musical project Misophone take shape?

It was about ten years ago, when we started messing around with this old Tascam four-track recorder. A single chord with a jumble of nonsense words, recorded at two in the morning. Nothing written down, just a vomit of sounds. Mostly unlistenable.

Then we started writing “real” songs before we'd press the record... and everything started from there. Hundreds of songs. We didn't think anyone would ever listen to them... but after a while I got into the habit of handing out free copies of the “albums” we made at the liquor store where I worked for years, and some people seemed to like them. We even had Rob from Massive Attack collecting his copies of each album that came out of the shop one after another, though he might have been doing it out of politeness... or mild discomfort... or a bit of both. The albums shifted in style over time, but we were making them for ourselves, so that's what we wanted them to be... and it still is. We often talk about what we might do next... make an album with just one instrument, or only with electric stuff, or only with instruments we built ourselves, and so on...

We read somewhere that the name “Misophone” came out of a pitch bend. Can you tell us more about that story?

On the old four-track there was a slider pitch bend, and we discovered that if you recorded anything — a piano, a guitar, a glockenspiel — while quickly pushing the pitch bend back and forth, it came out on the recording sounding like some lost 1950s/60s children's TV theme tune... or like a broken music box... And we loved it.

We called the sliding button the “misophone”... just a made-up word, and the name just kind of stuck.

It was only last year that I heard the word “misophonia” actually refers to a medical condition in which people have an aversion to everyday sounds...

One of the most intriguing aspects of your project lies in its aura of mystery. There's very little information about the two of you online, and even your names are reduced to their initials. What's behind this choice?

We're a couple of loners, but in person we're far from mysterious.

You write the lyrics and S. writes the melodies. How do you combine these two parts together? Is there a recurring pattern in how you build your songs?

Mostly, I write the words first, then S. writes and records a melody, I record the vocals and other elements, then we produce it together... but not always... it usually involves rummaging through the kitchen drawers... but there are hundreds of scribbles just waiting to be turned into songs.

Where do you draw inspiration from for your dark lyrics? Are there any authors or readings that particularly influence your songwriting?

I'm easily influenced by things I've just seen. Or by something I've just read. If someone says something I like, I make a mental note of it. I like the sound of words. But I also love old folk songs, because they too have fantastic narratives. John Jacob Niles is great at bringing them back up, but I also love what Alasdair Roberts or Will Oldham do. Like the line “the way nooses hold necks still in excellent poise” (from “Rich Wife Full Of Happiness” by Bonnie 'Prince' Billy, ed.), damn extraordinary. Or digging through old murder ballads, broadside ballads, medicine shows and minstrel shows, the kind of thing Tom Waits called “the verbal tabloids of the day”. But I like reading all sorts of different things: short stories, poems, big heavy tomes... there's no set style or genre I stick to. It's just a matter of consuming whatever comes next...

The magnetically unsettling atmospheres that run through your music are strongly shaped by the many spectral sounds and strange noises you weave into your tracks. What's your relationship with experimentation? How do you approach a track when working with those sounds? What are the strangest effects you've ever tried?

We've both always been drawn to certain kinds of noise... I remember hearing “I Am The Walrus” for the first time when I was eight, and I wondered what on earth was making that sound... I like noises that add something to the images in your mind while you're listening to a piece of music, or that seem to just be part of the song, not simply thrown in there... especially the ones that bring something back to your mind, and you're not quite sure why, some forgotten childhood misdeed or some memory... But I think some “sounds” are incredibly musical in and of themselves, like the creaks and squeaks in some of Gavin Bryars's compositions, or the sound of rain on a window at night.

Many of the sounds we discover by chance during recording sessions, like the sound of a bird at the window; some we go looking for... The new record "Before The Waves Roll In" contains more sampled sounds than we've ever used before, including some strange home recordings and field recordings from the 1940s and '50s, which are pretty unsettling little relics.

I think experimentation and the freedom to experiment are important, and there's stuff I like to listen to now and then that really pushes sound in new directions... But I like it when experimentation adds something to the melody, or, more than anything, when it builds tension before the melody reveals itself. For instance, I listen to "Safe As Milk" a lot more than I do "Trout Mask Replica".

What's your relationship with psychedelic pop? How do you relate to the psych-pop scene, past and present? Are there any artists you particularly appreciate?

To be honest, I've been listening to a lot of old American music lately... "The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of" is a fantastic compilation drawn from old 78s... But I like a whole bunch of different things. I could name a hundred bands or singers I love. Long 'Cleve' Reed & Little Harvey Hull singing "Original Stack O' Lee Blues" is one... but Waits, Beefheart, Lee Perry, Daniel Johnston, Operation Ivy, the Bambi soundtrack (there's a demo called "Rain Drops" that's amazing), Washington Phillips, Eels, Pulp, Will Oldham, Sparklehorse, Ivor Cutler, Gavin Bryars, Bacova's Ceska Kapela, Abdel Halim Hafez, Fred Astaire, Half Cousin, Moondog, Neutral Milk Hotel, Micah P. Hinson, Johnny Cash, Cohen, Elliott Smith, Smog, M. Ward, The Beach Boys, Jeffrey Lewis, Arvo Part, Lord Tanamo, Bill Ryder Jones, Richmond Fontaine, Falling Sickness, Danny Elfman, King Creosote, The Specials, Noah Lewis... They're all there... I love it when you find something you haven't heard in years and put it on... that feeling you get. But "psych"... I don't know, it's nice sometimes to let yourself be carried off to other destinations.

So far you've released two of your albums ("Where Has It Gone, All The Beautiful Music Of Our Grandparents? It Died With Them, That's Where It Went..." and "Be Glad You Are Only Human") in limited, numbered and extremely carefully crafted editions for the small Swedish label Kning Disk, and a new album ("Before The Waves Roll In") is about to come out on this same lovely label. What can you tell us about your history with Kning?

Kning is an incredible label, one that really cares about art and music. Mattias makes beautiful handmade drawings and covers, and they've put out a lot of vinyl and limited editions. They've even released music on phonograph! We're really excited about putting out "Before The Waves Roll In" with this label — the music for the album has been ready for over two years now, but they like to take the time they need. It's our biggest album so far in terms of scope and ambition. Right now Kning is putting out some really interesting releases, like the Jockum Nordström and Joakim Åhlund LP, which not only looks gorgeous but also comes with incredible original artwork. It's nice to be back there with Kning.

We also have another album, called "Another Lost Night", coming out on a Japanese label, Lirico, and we're really proud of it. The release date will be confirmed soon, and there'll be more information about it then. This album includes some pretty calm, restrained material, and a few rather noisy moments. I can't wait to get those songs out there.

Finally, over the past few years the independent label Another Records has released the albums "I Sit At Open Windows" and "Songs From An Attic". It's been wonderful working with this label, and some of the bands they've put out, like François And The Atlas Mountains, are doing really well too — that's another great thing.

There's often a kind of Balkan atmosphere in your songs. Do you think Misophone has roots in Eastern European music? What's your relationship with that culture?

I don't think of the music as wholly rooted in one place, although we have been influenced by elements of Eastern European music. S. lived in Hungary for a while, not too far from the Romanian border, and we've both spent time in Eastern Europe. I love the people and the folk music of those countries, so varied, and of the Roma community. But there's music from all over the world that I like... even though "world music" is a term I can't stand. There are some great compilations out there: "Give Me Love – Songs Of The Broken Hearted", "To What Strange Place – Music Of The Ottoman American Diaspora", "Hot Women", "To Scratch Your Heart Out", "Texas Czech Bohemian Moravian Bands"... All of them extraordinary... All different from one another.

Sometimes your music sounds like the soundtrack to a horror film. In your view, what does a film or a song need in order to be truly frightening?

I have an overactive imagination. It doesn't take much in a film to scare me...

Lo-fi sound and bedroom recordings seem to make up a significant part of your aesthetic. Do you think imperfection can be used as a means of expression? Which aspects of the home-recording process appeal to you the most?

I think it can be, but that shouldn't be the only thing you rely on. Obviously some old Howlin' Wolf records sound more expressive than they would if someone had cleaned them up and used Auto-Tune in some expensive studio, but that's not necessarily the studio's fault... Leaving in elements of imperfection, though, can be great. Like the rumble of thunder on the Palace Brothers' "No More Workhorse Blues". It's a matter of atmosphere; the song has as much to do with space as it does with melody. And that can be fantastic.

But that's not exactly what we do. Our recording equipment is cheap because it's what we have, we record at home because the thought of any other way fills me with dread, and we often don't even record in the same room. I don't think we could have done it any other way. We've found our own ways of getting what we want out of our limited equipment.

When you're recording in your own bedroom/basement, like early Daniel Johnston or Yonlu, what sometimes takes your breath away isn't so much the microphone hiss, the off-key voice, or the tape hiss. It's the feeling that you're listening in on someone else's secrets… It's something intimate, sometimes even painful; and it lets people who feel insecure or nervous in a crowd express themselves in a way that would have been impossible in any other situation… Capturing that moment is the magical part.

I'd never claim that's something we're capable of.

You've often cited Daniel Johnston as one of your biggest influences. What aspects of his songwriting and artistic approach do you love most?

He has the ability to craft gorgeous melodies, and his lyrics are so honest and sad and manipulative and brutal and happy and sincere, all at the same time. But when he pairs an extraordinary melody with a line that makes you want to cry, he's simply unbeatable. Take a song like "My Yoke Is Heavy" or "True Love Will Find You In The End" or "Grievances" or "Lonely Song" or "The Sun Shines Down On Me"… They carry so many different emotions inside and out, and then a line comes along that knocks you flat. My favourite album is "Dont Be Scared"… For me it's the songs he made in those quiet, secret moments that set him apart. Those early tapes from the Eighties… For nearly three years I listened to nothing but Daniel Johnston. The connections within his songs, and between them taken as a whole, are brilliant in a staggering way. It's as if it were all mapped out, predetermined. His songs give me more emotion than the music of anyone else who's ever made a record. But some of it is pretty horrible!

Do you enjoy covering other artists' songs? What do you think is the key to truly making someone else's song your own?

Sometimes… We've done a few covers. "Petroleum Lampa", a couple of Daniel Johnston songs. There are also a few covers on "Before The Waves Roll In", but you'll have to wait to find out what they are. Whether we make them our own or not is for others to judge.

The visual side of the Misophone project has a lot to do with old images and a kind of "out of time" atmosphere. Do you handle that side of things yourselves?

We've been given a lot of freedom by the labels we've worked with when it comes to shaping the visual side. Mattias at Kning is an amazing designer, he understood exactly what we wanted and put together some fabulous work. Another Record drew a lot of images from French postcards from the turn of the century. It's been wonderful working with them, because we have a very vivid idea of what we want visually, and they've been incredibly generous and patient about our involvement in that side of things.

I'm also really excited about the work Lirico is producing for the album "Another Lost Night" — we've already made some really great things together…

Is the "gorgeous music of our grandparents" really dead? Listening to your records, you'd say not…

Thank you…

Now let's move from the past to the (very near) future. We know you've got a new album, "Before The Waves Roll In", ready to come out this summer. Can you give us a sneak preview?

"Before The Waves Roll In" is made up of 20 tracks. It's more orchestral (to my ears) than anything we've released before. I'm very proud of it. There are a few contributions from American singer Aubben Renée and French trombonist Alone With King Kong. Aubben has worked in all sorts of different ways with all sorts of different artists, under the name Craven Canary, but she also has plenty of other projects, like Shedding Feathers and a band called French Films About Trains, who write really beautiful folk songs. She has an adorable voice and it's always a privilege to work with her, even though we've actually never met in person. Alone With King Kong is a French gentleman, a solo artist through and through and a superb trombone player. He contributed some great trombone parts on a number of tracks, which was really exciting for us, opening up the songs' scope into new territory. We hope you like it.

"Another Lost Night", which includes 13 new tracks, will also be released very soon… Both Aubben and Kong make another appearance — Aubben sings backing vocals on one track, and Alone With King Kong lets loose in his own way during one of the album's loudest, rowdiest moments. I'm really eager to get these songs out into the world…

And what can you tell us about Misophone's plans for the more distant future?

Keep recording and see what happens. There's always another song... And I'd like to try to live a little healthier.

(26/07/2012)

Ride the wave of great music

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This article is an English translation of the original Italian text by Gabriele Benzing, published on OndaRock.it. It was translated with the help of artificial intelligence, under the editorial responsibility of OndaRock's editor-in-chief, Claudio Fabretti.

Read the original in Italian · About the English edition

Misophone on OndaRock

Discography

Plastic Flower (self-released, 2002)
Tree Songs (self-released, 2003)
If Music Be The Food Of Love, Why Am I Still Hungry? (self-released, 2004)
At The Water (self-released, 2004)
What Is Lacking (self-released, 2005)
From Beyond The Bridge (self-released, 2006)
I Sleep Like The Dead 1 (self-released, 2007)
I Sleep Like The Dead 2 (self-released, 2007)
Life Is Good (self-released, 2007)
Where Has It Gone, All The Beautiful Music Of Our Grandparents? It Died With Them, That's Where It Went... (Kning Disk, 2008)
Be Glad You Are Only Human (Kning Disk, 2009)
I Sit At Open Windows (Another Record, 2009)
Songs From An Attic (Another Record, 2011)
Laughing At The Moon (Lirico, 2012)
Another Lost Night (Lirico, 2012)
Songs From The Cellar (self-released, 2013)
Before The Waves Roll In (Kning Disk, 2013)
Lost At Sea (Another Record, 2013)
Dust In The Corners(Another Record, 2013)
And So Sinks The Sun On A Burning Sea... (Another Record, 2021)
A Floodplain Mind (Another Record / Galaxy Train, 2023)