When in the early seventies journalist Jack Gousseland wrote about a sound installation of Éliane Radigue’s music, he said this: ‘Tape recorders can surely run for weeks, for months, their noise will not have “meaning”, it will only become music once LIVED. […] No matter what time they enter the gallery, they will have heard a complete work, their own, responding only to their need.’ Of course this layer of subjectivity is innate to all music, the listener is always the medium where frequencies become art. Where everything you have experienced yet is a decoder that outputs emotion. But still, there are different degrees offreedom that the music in question can provide you. Mostly ambiguity is limited to a certain spectrum due to the listen- ers having a similar socio-cultural context.

IKYA’s debut exhibits that all the opposites can be true at the same time. Love and loss, rage and acceptance, no hope (‘bez nade’ in croatian) and new beginnings. Oceans of possibilities and no strict guidelines to what it is and what it’s not. It is the listener who makes it happen. The duo builds synths from electric harp and guitar, scapes from field recordings and drones, and sounds from voices and wonders. So, It has little to do with the aforementioned tape machine. Yet their sound feels like one that keeps going

when you aren‘t looking, developing a life of its own. Continuously evolving murmurs, gurgles and wavering, low reso- lution water texture and serpentine motion. Tengam displays a force that is never out in the open. You gain empowering

momentum from directing your attention towards something specific of your own choosing. It can be a distant siren song in ‘Disgorge’, a soft embrace in ‘Ursus’, a forgotten memory in ‘Bez Nade’. Or it could be a small tale on its own like ‘Arba’: maybe you are listening to your own heartbeat. It is the ultimate proof that you are alive, but also showcases the small machine in your chest that could stop at any time. Which in return encapsules the albums whole mystery – it’s all there, just let it happen. IKYA’s debut album is the sound of two people finding each other, though not without challenges. When m preis and Krohm began writing, their relationship was still undefined which then grew parallel and interweaved with the music. The music in return became a space where feelings too complex for words could form.

II/III upcoming album debut explains their name and with it unravels the ominous presence in absence – a topic that duo got familiar on multiple planes over more than a decade of creating and friendship. Urška Preis and Tine Mulej Vrabič continue their conceptually nature-bound sound research, while also diving into inter-personal topics, such as the fragility of memories, the pain of forgetting and being forgotten, the embrace of acceptance. These personal interpretations serve as interventions of the state of nature and tackle the duality of loud- and quietness across multiple planes.

„Feedback From Hell“ by Danya delves deep into the psychological maze of the ‚feedback loop from hell‘, turning inner chaos into a symphony of liberation.