With Interstitial Spaces, Martin Brandlmayr sidesteps the cluttered gesture, instead magnifying the latent hum and echo sewn into the margins of music and moving image. The record refuses to chase the event, wandering instead through rooms where breath, the scrape of a chair, a ship's rumble through open window, all assume the role of protagonist. "Brandlmayr foregrounds the afterimage: when the last note ebbs, his focus sharpens on what remains—space itself, or its inhabitants, caught between actions," as the liner notes intimate. "A gentle rhythm then unfolds, drawing out those sounds so often eclipsed: preparations for rehearsal, tuning, murmured exchanges—the orchestra latent, the concert not yet begun."

Rather than rely on startling collage or nostalgia's fog, the album brings "noise" into sharp relief, attuning the ear to sonic minutiae, flashes of presence in seeming emptiness. The narrative swells—a methodical, almost surgical construction—culminating in a second movement of thicker sonic weave, before, with typical restraint, Brandlmayr lets the elements dissolve back to stillness. With Interstitial Spaces, the extraordinary event lies in what’s barely there, a celebration of listening itself.