Tarab is another great Zeno tip that, with the endorsement of spiritassembly, has more than lived up to expectation. I think my favorite is still my first,
take all the ships from the harbour, and sail them straight into hell. Single long piece, but sectioned into distinct parts- from the loud metal scraping of the ships cast off from the harbour through to alternately calm and stormy seas, then the final toilsome heave into the bowels of hell. The most plainly narrative in the Sprod discog if that's worth anything. Though I'm just as enamored with the meticulous junk excreta aesthetic- or as it says in big letters on the website,
careful arrangements of sonic rubbish.
Only recently found that he had a nearly full-up bandcamp and have duly set about to plugging holes in the collection:
https://tarab.bandcamp.com/musicTarab has lately gone very nicely with extended listening sessions that also featured Torba (among my favorites from 2017), Hal Hutchinson metal wreckage stuff, and a hefty dose of MNEM...
MNEM I have come to greatly admire... better late than never... for the distinct taste of mechanical dis-repair, decayed broken down machinery, musty dusty parts as readily repeating in protestation as strategically ripped... raw. Kind of soothing non-obstrusive decay that can as easily serve as bridge between careful arrangements of sonic rubbish and more cantakerous metal-junk bashings. At least to me.
Sir Ashleigh Grove ought to be an obvious tick in the Ferial Confine and related box. Disc on Siren kinda came out of nowhere and has been in fairly regular rotation since. I like the wrinkled rumpled nimpled sound on offer, like concrete musics slowly fed through a meat grinder.
Going back through this thread and thought my description of S*Core
QuoteFlavors of ritual "ambient", but a very peculiar kind of ritual, devoted to a god of decaying machinery, with an ambiance of rusted out sewage drains.
...could apply to much of the (recent) Sick Seed discog. Seedy failed "ambient" rituals offered up to unsmiling deity sure to answer the dutiful supplicant by duly grinding face via steel toed booty into rusted out sewage drainage pit, perhaps the faintest corners of the lips turned upwards.