*50 copies limited edition* Pieces of debris washed up on a coastline shrouded in mist. Gratification comes from an eternal search for solace. Locked away at the top of a lighthouse somewhere on an unnamed isle, Grady Steele broadcasts to those within the beacon’s reach. A soundsystem built of driftwood and salvaged car stereos is pieced together with precision and laboriously dragged to the top of the obelisk. A timeless fugue state spent playing arpeggios on a Spanish guitar, the PA system ebbing out phasing loops across benevolent waters. Layering, occasionally faulting, stopping, recording, starting again. The phosphorescent glow atop the obelisk is ever-present.

Perhaps the first release on Archaic Vaults to feature (at least prominent) use of the guitar, these six compositions feel sketch-like and yet burned into the retina, like that of a passing car’s headlights leaving an impressionistic imprint of the source material. To mention this is Grady Steele’s debut release is not to imply he is new to working with sound, having been the proprietor of one of London’s most important soundsystems for the last decade. An obsession with fidelity can be heard and and at times deliberately perverted amongst the body of work. The warm and melancholic tones of the Spanish guitar evident in almost all songs are juxtaposed with various collaged material, including what sounds like hastily captured iPhone recordings and drum machines neglected at the back of the studio, dragged out for one or two stubborn, lurching takes and then once more committed to storage.

The 90s voice-imitator pads glowing with undulance are reminiscent of John T. Gast’s early studio takes, and the synergy and precision in guitar layering could lend a clue as to what Fuck Buttons would have sounded like had they sold off their studio equipment for a couple of wooden 12-stringers. Stare long enough at those Windows 95 screensaver-esque rolling hills, and one might witness some miniscule movement in the growth.