8 Tracks: Of Atmospheric Instrumental Exploration With Mark Peters

Around the time I started recording ‘Innerland’ I got into the idea of my music having a ‘singular’ feeling: one idea presented very purely with no unnecessary fluff or decoration. If the emotion is represented accurately (with the help of the right processing) the effects can be amazing. The title of this is perfect – I love music that gives the feeling of wandering round in a place that’s seldom been wandered in.

There is a very mysterious and somnambulant feeling in Roedelius’ music that I particularly relate to. To me there is strong rural (but not bucolic) feeling in this that reflects the fact that all his music was made in the quiet of the German countryside. Urban music can be great, but with this kind of thing you can really get to the heart of the matter, whatever that may be. Although it’s quite lo-fi, much of Roedelius’ music sounds to me like a forerunner to the best and most musically developed electronica of the last 20 or 30 years.

Again, that ‘singular’ feeling is present on this amazing cover of the title track of Phil Manzanera’s 1975 album. Everyone in Acetone was on the same page – every last push and pull and emphasis is echoed by every player on an almost psychic level. Such a shame they couldn’t continue, although it’s great to see that the remaining members are playing shows now. When I picked this up again a couple years ago it was one of the things that persuaded me to pursue an entirely instrumental project.

As with Roedelius, I feel like this could be Jonas Munk’s response to nighttime in rural Denmark. When it goes well, like this, ambient music can be thrilling. It’s an aural panorama imbued with the particular emotion you are experiencing in response to a place and/or what you are thinking about when you get the chance to express yourself. There’s none of the intellectual process that can hamper conventional songwriting here, just a very pure feeling.

Although it’s perhaps seen a quaint precursor to their later, iconic work, I’d choose this stuff every time. I love its dedication to very simple patterns, arranged and overlapping to induce a hypnotic state. Not a massive revelation, but Eno must have been spinning this one when he made ‘Discreet Music’. What’s best about this is the chord change about halfway through that just hangs there. It’s like coming out of the woods and discovering a 15th century castle that hasn’t been seen by anyone for 200 years.

This was a big influence on me when I first started playing guitar. There weren’t many other bands in the ’80s northwest that had dreamy guitar sounds and, given the reflection on grim northern realities in the lyrics, they had many fans in dreamers like me. This is perfectly titled too, almost like the instrumentalists created it to remind their older selves what that moment in their lives felt like. This always makes me think of looking at the side of an old mill through a rainy car window.

I always wonder what was going on in people’s minds when they were writing music – especially solo pieces, unencumbered by the challenges of ensemble playing. Given the title and the rumour that Maurice Deebank went on to live in a monastery, a guess that it was higher matters might not be so far from the truth. A perfect example of the power of music – it’s a blissful piece, not just in terms of the production, and you can hear him drifting off to a far more peaceful and beautiful place than 1980s Birmingham.

Brian [Wenckebach] sent me this last year, just as I was finishing ‘Innerland’. I love the ‘mid-western skies’ type feeling that this has in common with people like Grouper and Casino Vs Japan. Like a lot of the tracks I’ve chosen here it has a private, contemplative vibe, which struck a chord with me immediately. Apparently he wrote it in his sister’s old bedroom, and it’s almost flooded with memories. We’ve started a collaboration project recently, which I’m very excited about.