The isle of Unguja is the great scene of this album. We hear the sound of water, suddenly interrupted by beautiful chorals or the strumming of string instruments, a drum beat. We hear the local fisherman talk while the shortwave radio becomes the symbol of the white man seeking truth and direction in the tropics. Its dial as a tool to reflect.
This album invokes a certain nostalgia for age-old enthnographies, like a romantic letter from the tropics. A hymn of solitude, in awe of the nonhuman and human elements. Like photography, through various compositions - stills from a moment - to shed light upon the unique - universal process of a place.
— Lieven Martens
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The isle of Unguja is the great scene of this album. We hear the sound of water, suddenly interrupted by beautiful chorals or the strumming of string instruments, a drum beat. We hear the local fisherman talk while the shortwave radio becomes the symbol of the white man seeking truth and direction in the tropics. Its dial as a tool to reflect.
This album invokes a certain nostalgia for age-old enthnographies, like a romantic letter from the tropics. A hymn of solitude, in awe of the nonhuman and human elements. Like photography, through various compositions - stills from a moment - to shed light upon the unique - universal process of a place.
— Lieven Martens
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