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Exploring the Outer Edges of Sound Online since 1998 | Updated 7/17/2026
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Passage by Chris Meyer's Alias Zone Feat. Robert Rich
Finding Her Way Back to the Music:
Jennifer DeFrayne and the Journey of Soul Love
For many artists, music is something they do. For Jennifer DeFrayne, it has always been something much deeper. Growing up amid the forests, shoreline, and vast open spaces of Michigan's Upper Peninsula, she discovered the piano not as a formal instrument to be mastered, but as a gateway to exploration, imagination, and self-expression. Largely self-taught, she spent countless hours improvising and creating melodies of her own, laying the foundation
for a musical voice that would eventually earn recognition throughout the contemporary instrumental and new age music communities.
That journey led to the acclaimed albums By a Wire and Sisu, recordings that established DeFrayne as a composer capable of transforming deeply personal experiences into music filled with beauty, resilience, and emotional honesty. Yet following the success of those releases, a series of serious health challenges forced her away from the piano for an extended period. What followed was a long and uncertain chapter marked by recovery, patience, and the
difficult question of whether she would ever fully return to the creative life that had always been such an important part of her identity.
The answer arrived in late 2025 when the music began flowing once again. The result is Soul Love, an album born from improvisation, gratitude, memory, and the many forms of connection that give meaning to our lives. In this conversation, Jennifer reflects on her musical beginnings, her remarkable path back to creativity, the inspiration behind Soul Love, and the profound realization that music was never simply something she enjoyed—it was part of who she is.
Earth Trax has spent the last several years building a reputation for refusing to remain confined within a single musical identity. While his earlier work often drew from dance music traditions, Everlasting Flame finds the Polish producer moving further away from the expectations of the club and toward something more personal and contemplative. Rather than abandoning rhythm altogether, he reshapes it into one element of a much broader sonic canvas where atmosphere, texture, and emotion become equally important participants in the conversation.
I first discovered this album through a link from a Substack article that led to the artist's Bandcamp page and, like so many unexpected musical discoveries, it immediately demanded a closer listen. Everlasting Flame is an interesting mix of music, moving from subdued rhythmic passages to the wonderfully ambient "Signals," a piece that gently lulls the listener into a peaceful frame of mind. Here, slowly evolving synthesizers create a rich soundscape that steadily builds in intensity before gradually dissolving back into silence. It perfectly illustrates one of the album's greatest strengths. While the music certainly encourages relaxation, it also rewards focused listening. Spend a few uninterrupted minutes inside these carefully crafted sonic environments, and entirely new layers begin revealing themselves.
That balance between accessibility and depth defines the entire album. Earth Trax understands that repetition does not have to lead to monotony. Instead, recurring rhythmic patterns become a foundation upon which subtle shifts in texture, tone, and harmony slowly unfold. The changes are rarely dramatic. A bass pulse becomes slightly more pronounced. A distant vocal fragment drifts across the stereo field. High frequency textures sparkle momentarily before disappearing into the surrounding haze. These gradual transformations encourage patience, making the album feel less like a collection of individual tracks and more like a continuous emotional journey.
The notion of ephemera has long fascinated me. Music, perhaps more than any other art form, exists in a curious tension between permanence and impermanence. A performance unfolds in time and then vanishes. A sound resonates in the air and dissolves into silence. Even memory itself, the place where music often finds its deepest home, is fragile and subject to erosion. Yet despite this apparent transience, humanity has spent centuries creating
musical artifacts intended to outlast the moment of their creation.
Are music and recordings merely ephemera? I would argue that they are not. While the experience of listening may be fleeting, the works themselves often become enduring objects of cultural memory. A score, a recording, a composition—these are vessels carrying traces of imagination across time. They allow listeners separated by decades, or even centuries, to encounter the thoughts, emotions, and sonic worlds of others.
What makes a musical work lasting is not simply its technical accomplishment or popularity. Rather, it is its ability to continue speaking to listeners long after its original context has disappeared. A work survives because it contains something worth revisiting. It reveals new dimensions with repeated listening. It offers solace, wonder, reflection, or perhaps a deeper understanding of our shared humanity.
Yet contemporary culture often appears obsessed with novelty. New recordings arrive daily in overwhelming quantities. Streaming platforms reward constant production and continuous visibility. The pressure to create the next release, the next track, the next moment of attention can make it seem as though yesterday’s music has already become obsolete. Older works frequently languish unheard, buried beneath an ever-expanding avalanche of content.
This raises an important question. Why do we demand so much new music when so much existing music remains unexplored?
Harold Budd: Finding the Center in a World of Noise
Harold Budd never seemed interested in overwhelming the listener. At a time when much of contemporary music was becoming louder, denser, faster, and increasingly theoretical, Budd moved in the opposite direction. He built his art from silence, resonance, memory, and space. A single piano chord suspended in open air could carry more emotional weight than an entire wall of sound. What emerged from that philosophy would help shape the emotional architecture of ambient music
for decades to come.
Although his name is frequently associated with the ambient movement pioneered by Brian Eno, Harold Budd’s music occupied a world entirely its own. Drawing equally from the vast stillness of the Mojave Desert, the rigor of avant-garde composition, and an unapologetic devotion to beauty, Budd created recordings that felt less like performances than environments to inhabit. His work invited listeners not merely to hear music, but to slow down enough to exist inside it.
That approach stood in sharp contrast to the prevailing climate of academic composition during the late 1960s and early 1970s. Having spent years immersed in the intellectual structures of modern classical music, Budd eventually reached a breaking point, famously describing his artistic journey as an effort to “reduce my language to zero.” Rather than rebuild through greater complexity, he chose simplicity, atmosphere, and emotional openness. In doing so, he quietly challenged
many of the assumptions that governed serious contemporary music.
The recordings that followed — from The Pavilion of Dreams to The Plateaux of Mirror and The Pearl — became foundational works in the evolution of ambient and atmospheric music. Yet Harold Budd’s lasting contribution extends beyond genre. His music remains a reminder that stillness can be powerful, gentleness can be radical, and that sometimes the deepest artistic statements arrive not through force, but through patience, restraint, and the willingness to leave space
for reflection.
Sometimes it begins with a melody that arrives unexpectedly during a quiet walk. Sometimes it begins with a simple chord progression discovered while absentmindedly sitting at a piano. Other times it begins with a feeling that refuses to leave until it has found a way into sound. However it starts, there is almost always a deeply human impulse behind it: the desire to express something that words alone cannot fully capture.
For centuries that impulse has been followed by something equally important: craft.
A musician spends years learning an instrument. They practice scales that no audience will ever hear. They learn harmony, rhythm, dynamics and phrasing. They write songs that fail before eventually writing one that succeeds. They develop not only technical ability but a musical voice that slowly becomes unmistakably their own.
When we listen to an album by one of our favorite artists, we are hearing far more than the notes themselves. We are hearing years of curiosity, discipline, mistakes, discoveries and perseverance distilled into a single recording. The performance is the visible tip of an iceberg whose foundation may stretch back decades.
That history is part of what creates the connection between artist and listener.
Recently I watched a YouTube video that raised an interesting question. The creator explained that he had written the lyrics and developed the melody for a song, but he considered his own recording to be inadequate. He then turned to Suno, which generated the vocals and instrumental performance. His question was simple: "Is this still my music?"
Between Sound and Silence: Tom Eaton at Work in the Studio
There’s a certain kind of artistry that rarely announces itself, yet quietly shapes the records we return to again and again. Tom Eaton has built a career in that space—behind the glass, in the margins between performance and permanence—where instinct, patience, and a deep understanding of emotional nuance guide the process as much as any piece of gear. His work, particularly through his long association with Will Ackerman and the legacy of the Windham Hill
sound,
has helped define a modern evolution of acoustic and ambient music that values intimacy as much as it does sonic scale.
What emerges in this conversation is not just a portrait of a producer, but of a listener first—someone attuned to the fragile moment where an idea becomes something real. Eaton speaks candidly about the balance between structure and spontaneity, about knowing when to step forward with a suggestion and when to disappear entirely, and about the delicate responsibility of helping artists reconnect with the emotional core of their work. It’s a role that often
borders
on the psychological as much as the technical, requiring equal parts empathy and clarity to guide a session toward something honest and lasting.
At the heart of Eaton’s approach is a belief that great records are less about perfection and more about connection—the subtle transfer of feeling from artist to listener that survives every microphone, cable, and waveform along the way.
Whether he’s shaping arrangements, refining dynamics, or simply creating the space for a performance to breathe, his fingerprints are there in ways that don’t call attention to themselves, but are impossible to ignore once you know where to listen. This interview offers a rare look into that world—the unseen architecture behind the music, and the craftsman who helps bring it into focus. Click here to read Tom Eaton's interview about
his work in the studio
Other AV's Q&A Features available on Ambient Visions
There are certain albums that become more than simply another addition to a music collection. They quietly establish themselves as landmarks, opening doors to unfamiliar musical landscapes and forever changing the way we listen. For me, *Conferring With the Moon* was one of those records.
Although it was not Will Ackerman's first album, it was my introduction to his music during the early days of my own journey into ambient, new age, and contemporary instrumental music. Like many listeners discovering the Windham Hill catalog in the early 1990s, I came to this album without any expectations beyond the reputation that surrounded the label. What I found instead was something far more enduring: an album that valued atmosphere over virtuosity,
conversation over performance, and silence as much as sound.
Nearly thirty-five years later, those qualities remain just as compelling.
There’s something fitting about the way Todd Mosby’s music seems to exist between places. His work has never belonged to a single tradition, but instead draws from a deep well of influences—Missouri bluegrass roots, the intricate discipline of North Indian classical music, and the openness of West Coast jazz. As the only guitarist within the Imrat Khani Gharana and the creator of the 18-string Imrat guitar, Mosby has spent decades shaping a language that
feels both grounded and exploratory. What he describes as “geotemporal” composition isn’t just a concept—it’s a reflection of a lifetime spent connecting landscapes, cultures, and states of mind through sound.
In this conversation, we sit down with Mosby alongside producer Jeffrey Weber to take a closer look at his latest release, American Heartland. As the second chapter in his ongoing musical travelogue, the album shifts its focus inward, trading the expansive horizons of the Southwest for something more rooted and personal. Recorded at The Village Studios and brought to life by a remarkable group of players—including Vinnie Colaiuta and Leland Sklar—the record
feels less like a departure and more like a return. It’s an album shaped by memory, place, and a deep respect for the musical soil Mosby first grew in.
What emerges from American Heartland is not just a tribute to geography, but to identity itself. There’s a quiet confidence in the way Mosby allows these influences to breathe—never forcing fusion, but letting it unfold naturally, as if these traditions were always meant to meet. In the discussion that follows, we explore how this balance is achieved, from the early influence of Ustad Imrat Khan to the collaborative spirit that defines the album’s production.
It’s a window into an artist still evolving, still searching, and still finding new ways to translate the landscapes within and around him into sound.
When Does AI Stop Being the Tool
and Start Becoming the Artist?
A few days ago I found myself listening to a song that stopped me in my tracks. The vocal was compelling. The production was immaculate. Everything about it sounded polished, emotional, and convincing. As the song ended, I clicked over to the artist's profile photo. It, too, seemed almost impossibly perfect. That was the moment I asked myself a question that, until recently, I never would have considered.
Was I listening to a human being at all?
It was an unsettling realization, not because I had reached a conclusion, but because I couldn't. There was no obvious clue one way or the other. My instincts told me something felt different, but instinct is not evidence. I couldn't honestly say whether I had just heard the work of a talented songwriter, an AI-generated creation, or something that existed somewhere in between.
The fact that I even asked the question says a great deal about where we are today.
For most of music history, listeners never questioned whether there was a person behind the performance. We assumed the singer had sung the song. We assumed the guitarist had played the guitar. We assumed the songwriter had lived, imagined, struggled, and ultimately created something worth sharing. Those assumptions were so natural that they never required discussion.
Today, they do.
This isn't simply an issue for ambient music. It isn't even limited to electronic music. Before long, listeners in every genre will find themselves asking the same questions. Is the voice real? Was the music composed by a person? How much of what I'm hearing came from an artist, and how much came from a prompt entered into a machine?
Continuing to express the spiritual landscape of Japan and the natural beauty of the Tohoku region through sweeping synthesizer compositions, Himekami celebrates in 2026 the 45th anniversary of its debut. To commemorate this milestone, a long-awaited best album spanning the group's musical legacy, “ULTIMATE BEST”, became available on major music streaming services on June 24, including a music video for “The Prayer Of Thousand Years”.
Since its debut in 1981, Himekami has captivated listeners across generations and around the world with a distinctive musical style that blends digital orchestration with ethnic musical influences.
Himekami 45th Anniversary ULTIMATE BEST features 32 carefully selected tracks from the group's complete catalog. Centered on internationally acclaimed works such as Poetry Of The Gods and The Prayer Of Thousand Years, the collection also includes the previously unreleased new composition Pilgrimage to the Phantom City and rare recent live recordings. The album offers music of healing and contemplation for both longtime fans and a new generation of listeners
navigating today's rapidly changing world. Its collection of relaxing music, ambient music, instrumental music, meditation music, and nature music reflects the timeless appeal of Himekami's sound.
Coinciding with the album's streaming release, a new music video for The Prayer Of Thousand Years, one of Himekami's most beloved compositions, has also been released. Reimagining the song's theme of prayers transcending time and space, the video presents breathtaking imagery inspired by the sacred landscapes of Tohoku and the vastness of the cosmos, creating a deeply moving visual experience.
Together, the best album and The Prayer Of Thousand Years Music Video offer an opportunity to experience the evolving artistic world of Himekami.
About the Artist
The group's name was inspired by Mt. Himekami in Morioka City, Iwate Prefecture.
Based in a studio nestled in the forests of the Kitakami Mountains, Himekami creates music rooted in the folk songs and traditional music of Japan’s Tohoku region. The group's signature sound combines the transparent tones of the synthesizer with distinctive melodic lines incorporating the traditional Japanese vocal ornamentation known as kobushi (melisma). Since the late 1990s, Himekami has further expanded its musical expression through the
introduction of the natural vocal chorus known as "Himekami Voice," creating an even more majestic sonic landscape. From northeastern Japan’s Tohoku region to audiences around the world, Himekami continues to compose music that resonates like a timeless prayer.
Members
First Generation (1980–2004): Yoshiaki Hoshi
Second Generation (2004–Present): Yoshiki Hoshi
Born in 1978, Yoshiki Hoshi is the eldest son of Yoshiaki Hoshi. He participated in Himekami's album productions and concerts as both a composer and performer before succeeding the group following Yoshiaki Hoshi's passing on October 1, 2004.
For Brian Fechino, the journey into the deep textures of ambient music is a study in the philosophy of "serving the song". A veteran guitarist whose roots stretch back to the classic rock and blues scenes of Virginia, Fechino’s career has been defined by a relentless pursuit of musical communication over technical ego. This "parts-oriented" mindset was forged on high-energy stages alongside legends like Bob Dylan and the Allman Brothers, and refined
through a pivotal, humbling professional lesson in Nashville that transformed him into a highly sensitive listener within a larger ensemble.
Beyond his work as a performer, Fechino is a sophisticated architect of sound behind the glass at The Holler, where he serves as a producer and mixer. His transition into atmospheric textures was a natural expansion of a lifelong affinity for pioneers like Brian Eno and Robert Fripp, eventually leading to a long-standing partnership with Sherry Finzer and Heart Dance Records. This collaboration has allowed him to explore the "healing" side of ambient music—a
practice he defines through the physics of vibration—notably emulating the "air moving metal" of the flute with the tactile response of his own strings. In 2026, Fechino’s creative voice remains anchored in a "Holy Grail" technical standard, utilizing an extension of self that includes a '64 Fender Stratocaster, a '56 Gibson Les Paul, and the legendary Echoplex EP3 tape echo. Whether he is deconstructing chord structures for his solo projects like Of the Light or exploring the "forward
motion" of a groove with the trio Majestica, his focus remains on authenticity and the preservation of a signature tone.
We just wanted to make sure that the readers of AV were aware of the radio shows like Renee Blanche's Night Tides that feature ambient and new age music each and every Sunday night. There are so many choices out there to listen to music that it might be tempting to skip shows like Night Tides or Star's End or Galactic Travels or Hearts of Space in favor of just pulling up a playlist on Spotify and listening to it instead. Renee and Bill and
Chuck and Stephen have been spotlighting great ambient/new age music on their programs for many, many years now and I think listeners would be doing themselves a disservice by not taking advantage of all of that musical programming skills to help you on your journey of discovery into the vast catalog of ambient, new age and electronic music both past and present.
So perhaps you weren't aware of these programs or of the music that they play but AV is here to help. We are going to start featuring a radio show on the front page with links to the charts on AV's Charts page so you can get a feel for what is being played on these radio shows. You can then follow the links under each chart to learn more about the program, what time it's on and even links that will allow you to stream it live right there on
your computer. It doesn't get more convenient than that. To kick off these reminders we'll start with Night Tides which airs on Sunday nights just in time to decompress you before heading off to work on Monday morning. There is a small sample of the playlist just below and for the complete playlist just follow the link and begin your musical explorations. A lot of us grew up in an era when radio was our main music discovery venue. These programmers are simply carrying on a proud tradition of helping listeners
such as yourself find the music that you didn't even know you were looking for. Enjoy! Click
here to check out Night Tides Playlist
AV Goes to NYC
and reviews the
FLOW concert
AV's Concert Review
An Introvert Journeys to New York City and Goes With the
FLOW
As you may or may not know I tend to be a very introverted
person who is connected to a broad musical world via my Ambient Visions website
and rarely do I venture out into the really real world other than at a very
mundane level as I head off to work or to do a variety of equally unspectacular
chores that make up my daily life. On occasion though I am tempted to step out
of my ordinary introverted life and to step into that wider world which makes
introverts like me quiver in their boots and on an even rarer occasion I act on
those temptations and dive into that real world. October 6 was one of those days where the
benefit of venturing out overwhelmed my reservations and sent me off to the big
city to discover the joys of live music.
What, you might ask, would tempt an introvert such as myself
out of his seclusion and pull him to the big city? I’m glad you asked. I wanted
to go with the FLOW. I know that doesn’t sound like a compelling reason and
what the heck does it even mean anyway. The FLOW in this case is a new ensemble
group that was celebrating the release of their first album simply entitled
FLOW by performing as a group at the Weill Recital Hall at Carnegie Hall in New
York City which is a celebrated musical mecca of the performing arts in the
United States. The motivating factor here was the composition of the group and
the nature of the guest artists who would be performing with them on that
Friday night in New York City.