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Record Of Tides
'Intercelestial' (Mahorka) Album Review
Record
Of Tides has unleashed 'Intercelestial' on Mahorka and it's a wild, cosmic
organism of an album. We jumped straight into its strange circuitry for
a full review that matches its energy. From the distorted swagger of 'Nice
Try' to the dreamlike coastal drift of the 'Beach' trilogy and the triumphant
glow of 'Fish Tank', this record refuses to behave and rewards anyone
brave enough to follow its crooked path. If you want a journey that bends
the map and redraws the sky above your head, this album is for you!
There is
a moment early in Intercelestial when the whole record seems
to shrug off reality. Distorted fragments from ‘Nice Try’ stumble
into the room, drums trip over themselves, and then everything snaps into
a wicked grin as the groove takes over. From that point on the album behaves
like a mischievous entity that knows exactly what it is doing, even when
it pretends otherwise. Record Of Tides clearly enjoy bending the
rules, but here the project dissolves those rules entirely.
The early stretch of the album is a carnival of strange circuitry. ‘Yoshimoto
Animation Tag’ brings game console ghosts chattering in the corners.
Voices glitch into odd shapes. Beats wander in and out of the frame like
stray animals that somehow understand rhythm better than most producers.
There is joy in the chaos, a kind of cracked celebration of sound for
its own sake. Nothing is tidy. Everything is alive.
Then the record drifts into a softer current. ‘Brother Love feat. IG-75’
arrives with the smoothness of an old soul record that has been left out
in the sun. Warm downtempo swing, a velvet glide, a sense of unhurried
confidence. It is the kind of moment that invites the listener to sink
deeper into the album’s world and stay a while.
Light pours in soon after. The shimmer of ‘Superdusk’ floats through
the mix like morning sun through an open window. Just when the brightness
seems ready to settle, glitchy vocal snippets and bass shadows slip across
the surface. The contrast is delicious. The album keeps shifting between
radiance and glitch, between clarity and interruption, as if it is tuning
itself to multiple realities at once.
The middle section slows everything to a crawl. ‘Filets’ lets pads
bloom and collapse in long arcs. Textures shuffle and thud. Melodic fragments
surface like creatures rising from deep water before vanishing again.
It is ambient music with a restless streak, always on the verge of becoming
something else.
Then comes the moment where the record starts playing tricks. In ‘Kitchen
Spam’, percussion pans across the stereo field. Distorted pads smear
into cosmic plucks. A broken hip-hop beat staggers into view, dragging
samples from films and forgotten songs behind it. The whole thing resembles
a collage assembled by someone who refuses to admit they are making art
even, as the evidence piles up.
A heavier presence emerges next. ‘Hangar Check For Nothing’ grinds
forward with the slow determination of a machine built for a purpose no
one has explained. The highly rhythmic melodic progression carries the
weight of a metal track while the atmosphere remains soft and electronic.
It is a strange hybrid, and it works because the album has already trained
the listener to trust its instincts.
The final third of the record settles into a dreamlike coastal drift.
Think: Slow broken beats, downtempo gravity, ambient synth hazes. ‘The
Beach Crate’ summons the ghost of a banjo and the honk of some ancient
horn and then ‘The Beach Shop’ strips away those antique textures
and leaves only the pulse of it all behind. ‘The Beach Motel’ proceeds
with the established melodic air but invites birds into the mix as if
the studio door had been left open. The motif repeats but never stagnates.
Each piece is a different angle of the same surreal shoreline.
Just when it seems the album might dissolve entirely, a collage of found
sounds snaps into place with surprising elegance. ‘Dictionary’
lets objects clatter and fragments collide until melody and rhythm emerge
from the rubble. It is a reminder that chaos can be coaxed into order
with the right touch.
The closing track brings everything into focus. ‘Fish Tank’ reports
for duty with a distorted kick/snare pattern while loose bass and lovely
arpeggiated synth lines drift upward like sunlight through water. It is
minimal, summery, and strangely triumphant. The record ends not with a
conclusion but with continuation.
Intercelestial is a rare creature. It is experimental without
apology, adventurous without self-consciousness, and confident enough
to wander wherever curiosity leads. Record Of Tides has crafted
an album that refuses to sit still, refuses to sit inside of a genre,
refuses to explain itself, and refuses to be anything other than exactly
what it is: a strange and beautiful transmission from a place just off
the map.
J. Bishop for Choon Review
choonreview.com/record-of-tides-intercelestial-mahorka-album-review
“Intercelestial” by Record Of Tides: controlled drift on the North
Sea mental
One summer, the North Sea, a few German records in a loop. Then back
to the starting point, but not quite the same. With Intercelestial, Sven
Piayda transforms a parenthesis into sound material. Not a travel diary.
Rather an area of translation, where the shapes move without warning
Between electronica porouse, post-hip-hop diffuse and post-rock tablecloths,
Record Of Tides aka Sven Piayda continues a trajectory apart. Intercelestial
captures a precise moment, August 2025, and stretches it into a wider,
collective, visual space. A disc that circulates more than it affirms,
and that opens to an electronic practice where sound is never alone...
A simple origin, an unstable result
The starting
point is almost banal. A stay on the Dutch coast. Time, listening, a slow
immersion in a certain German electronic tradition. But what could have
remained a direct influence is quickly diluted. Back home, Piayda doesn't
reproduce anything. He's recomposing. The pieces of Intercelestial bear
this trace. Not as a quote. Rather as a climate. Textures that advance
in tablecloths, rhythms that appear and then withdraw. Nothing frontal.
Everything is played out in the transitions.
Post-gender or discipline of blur. The term “post-gender” often returns
around Record of Tides. Here he holds. Because it is not used to mask
an absence of direction, but to describe a method. Piayda doesn't mix.
He lets coexist. Electronica, post-hip-hop, avant-garde, post-rock fragments.
Each element retains its density. The link is elsewhere. In the breaths,
the hollows, the areas where the structure relaxes. The record is not
looking for impact. He's looking for the outfit.
A scene behind the project
Behind this
apparent solitude, there is a network. Michael Schreiber in mastering
and image. Mario Meyendriesch (IG-75) on Brother Love. All from the Electric
Café Ruhr Collective. This detail changes the reading. Intercelestial
is not an isolated gesture. It prolongs a collective practice of sessions,
concerts, exchanges. Music that is also built in sharing, even when it
seems interior.
From live to disc, without break, at the end November 2025, Piayda plays
part of this material live in Mülheim. Still unstable versions, tested
in space. The album comes next. Without a clear break. We find this feeling
in the listening. The pieces are not frozen. They keep something from
the essay, from the move. As if they could still evolve elsewhere. In
another room, another configuration.
The image as a natural extension? Two videos accompany the release, Nice
Try and Filets. Directed by Piayda himself. Again, no decorative addition.
The image extends the gesture. At Record Of Tides, sound is rarely autonomous.
He interacts with other mediums. Installation, video, handwriting even
in the object. Intercelestial works like a whole. A discrete but coherent
system. Intercelestial is not trying to score. He settles in. And leave
a question open: how far can music go when it accepts to no longer define
itself entirely?
Antoine
Brettman for Houz-Motik Magazine
houz-motik.fr/2026/03/intercelestial-de-record-of-tides-derive-controlee-sur-mer-du-nord-mentale
« Intercelestial », de Record Of Tides : dérive contrôlée sur mer du Nord
mentale
Un été,
la mer du Nord, quelques disques allemands en boucle. Puis retour au point
de départ, mais pas tout à fait le même. Avec Intercelestial, Sven Piayda
transforme une parenthèse en matière sonore. Pas un carnet de voyage.
Plutôt une zone de translation, où les formes se déplacent sans prévenir
Entre electronica poreuse, post-hip-hop diffus et nappes post-rock, Record
Of Tides aka Sven Piayda poursuit une trajectoire à part. Intercelestial
capte un moment précis, août 2025, et l’étire dans un espace plus large,
collectif, visuel. Un disque qui circule plus qu’il n’affirme, et qui
ouvre vers une pratique électronique où le son n’est jamais seul…
Une origine simple, un résultat instable
Le point
de départ est presque banal. Un séjour sur la côte néerlandaise. Du temps,
des écoutes, une immersion lente dans une certaine tradition électronique
allemande. Mais ce qui aurait pu rester une influence directe se dilue
rapidement. De retour chez lui, Piayda ne reproduit rien. Il recompose.
Les morceaux de Intercelestial portent cette trace. Pas comme citation.
Plutôt comme climat. Des textures qui avancent par nappes, des rythmes
qui apparaissent puis se retirent. Rien de frontal. Tout se joue dans
les transitions.
Post-genre ou discipline du flou. Le terme “post-genre” revient souvent
autour de Record Of Tides. Ici, il tient. Parce qu’il ne sert pas à masquer
une absence de direction, mais à décrire une méthode. Piayda ne mélange
pas. Il laisse coexister. Electronica, post-hip-hop, avant-garde, fragments
post-rock. Chaque élément garde sa densité. Le lien se fait ailleurs.
Dans les respirations, les creux, les zones où la structure se relâche.
Le disque ne cherche pas l’impact. Il cherche la tenue.
Une scène derrière le projet
Derrière
cette apparente solitude, il y a un réseau. Michael Schreiber au mastering
et à l’image. Mario Meyendriesch (IG-75) sur Brother Love. Tous issus
du Electric Café Ruhr Collective. Ce détail change la lecture. Intercelestial
n’est pas un geste isolé. Il prolonge une pratique collective faite de
sessions, de concerts, d’échanges. Une musique qui se construit aussi
dans le partage, même quand elle semble intérieure.
Du live au disque, sans rupture, fin novembre 2025, Piayda joue une partie
de ce matériau en live à Mülheim. Des versions encore instables, testées
dans l’espace. L’album arrive ensuite. Sans rupture nette. On retrouve
cette sensation dans l’écoute. Les morceaux ne sont pas figés. Ils gardent
quelque chose de l’essai, du déplacement. Comme s’ils pouvaient encore
évoluer ailleurs. Dans une autre salle, une autre configuration.
L’image comme prolongement naturel ? Deux vidéos accompagnent la sortie,
Nice Try et Filets. Réalisées par Piayda lui-même. Là encore, pas d’ajout
décoratif. L’image prolonge le geste. Chez Record Of Tides, le son est
rarement autonome. Il dialogue avec d’autres médiums. Installation, vidéo,
écriture manuscrite même dans l’objet. Intercelestial fonctionne comme
un ensemble. Un système discret mais cohérent. Intercelestial ne cherche
pas à marquer. Il s’installe. Et laisse une question ouverte : jusqu’où
peut aller une musique quand elle accepte de ne plus se définir entièrement
?
Antoine
Brettman for Houz-Motik Magazine
houz-motik.fr/2026/03/intercelestial-de-record-of-tides-derive-controlee-sur-mer-du-nord-mentale
:: nocoVision
Record Of Tides :: intercelestial
A genesis?
Yes - of that peculiar kind of cosmogony that might emerge somewhere between
sea spray and asphalt.
The story of INTERCELESTIAL apparently begins along the Dutch North Sea
coast. The other story, however, started much earlier. Go on - ask me
someday, I’ll tell it to you, and I assure you it is every bit as compelling
as the present pleasure of witnessing the birth of a collaboration between
the musician from Mülheim and the label from Pleven.
“Small world... close connections... these things are meant to happen...
it is just when, not if,” as one of the protagonists very recently confessed.
Back to Mülheim, a charming town at the heart of the industrious Ruhr,
barely twenty kilometers from the historic epicenter of electronic music
: Düsseldorf. A geographical detail that matters, when one knows that
Sven Piayda is (also) part of a collective, Electric Café (well, well...),
where a few faithful boing boom tschack accomplices converge - Michael
Schreiber (Primal Scapes) and Mario Meyendriesch (IG-75), both featured
on the album. An amusing prospect, to imagine you already setting off
toward a few preconceived listening angles… no way, baby! You just missed
the Autobahn exit.
Come on ! Sven Piayda is not that easy to grasp. Ask him if he’s a musician.
Musically, Record Of Tides has always refused to choose ; INTERCELESTIAL
belongs to none of those damned, reductive genres—textures and structures
stretching out, sidestepping every pitfall.
At last, accepting to lose your bearings.
Savoring the sheer, deliberate distance between “Nice Try” and the triangle
of “The Beach” is enough to turn anyone into an unconditional fan - certainty
or informed restraint? Your call.
thierry massard for nocoVision // march 30 2026
ROT is concerned only with what comes after, with tomorrow - the day when,
in the light of yesterday, we will finally know that we can (graciously)
despise any possible nostalgia.
Eine Genese? Ja! Eine jener Kosmogonien, die zwischen Gischt und Asphalt
entstehen könnten.
Die Geschichte von INTERCELESTIAL beginnt offenbar an den Küsten der niederländischen
Nordsee. Die andere Geschichte hat schon viel früher begonnen. Ach, sagen
Sie es mir doch – eines Tages werde ich sie Ihnen erzählen und ich versichere
Ihnen, dass sie ebenso fesselnd ist wie das gegenwärtige Vergnügen, der
Geburt einer Zusammenarbeit zwischen dem Musiker aus Mülheim und dem Label
aus Pleven beizuwohnen.
"Small world... close connections... these things are meant to happen...
it is just when, not if", so das jüngste Geständnis eines der beiden Protagonisten.
Zurück nach Mülheim, einem charmanten Städtchen im Herzen des geschäftigen
Ruhrgebiets, nur knapp 20 Kilometer vom historischen Epizentrum der elektronischen
Musik entfernt: Düsseldorf. Ein geografischer Punkt von Bedeutung, wenn
man weiß, dass Sven Piayda (auch) Mitglied eines Kollektivs ist, Electric
Café (Sieh an...), wo sich einige treue Boing-Boom-Tschack Gefährten wiedertreffen:
Michael Schreiber (Primal Scapes) oder Mario Meyendriesch (IG-75), die
als Gäste auf dem Album vertreten sind. Ein amüsanter Gedanke, Sie bereits
auf dem Weg zu gewissen Erwartungen zu wissen... no way baby! Sie haben
gerade die Autobahnausfahrt verpasst.
Nun denn! Sven Piayda lässt sich nicht so leicht einfangen – Fragen Sie
ihn doch mal, ob er Musiker ist?
Musikalisch hat es Record Of Tides (ROT) stets abgelehnt, sich festzulegen;
INTERCELESTIAL gehört zu keinem dieser verflixten, zerstörerischen Genres.
Texturen und Strukturen, die sich dehnen und allen Fallstricken ausweichen.
Endlich akzeptieren, den Kompass zu verlieren.
Die schlichte, betonte Distanz zwischen einem „Nice Try“ und dem Dreieck
„The Beach“ zu schätzen, vermag jeden in einen bedingungslosen Fan zu
verwandeln – Gewissheit oder wohlwissende Zurückhaltung? Wählen Sie selbst!
ROT konzentriert sich einzig auf das Danach, das Morgen, auf den Tag,
an dem wir – dank des Gestern – endlich (herzlich) jede mögliche Nostalgie
verabscheuen werden.
thierry massard for nocoVision // 30 März 2°26
Une genèse ? Oui ! De cette sorte de cosmogonie qui pourrait naître
entre embruns et bitume.
L’histoire d’INTERCELESTIAL commence apparemment sur les côtes de la mer
du Nord néerlandaise. L'autre histoire a débuté depuis beaucoup plus longtemps.
Allez, dites-le moi, un jour, je vous la raconterai et vous assure qu'elle
est aussi passionnante que le présent plaisir d'assister à la naissance
d'une collaboration entre le musicien de Mülheim et le label de Pleven.
"small world... close connections... these things are meant to happen...
it is just when, not if " selon l'aveu très récent de l'un deux des protagonistes.
Retour à Mülheim, charmante bourgade au coeur de l'industrieuse Ruhr,
à quelques 20 petits kilomètres de l'épicentre historique de la musique
électronique - Düsseldorf - Un point géographique qui a son importance,
quand on sait que Sven Piayda est (aussi) membre d'un collectif, Electric
Café (Tiens donc ...) où se retrouvent quelques boing boom tschack fidèles
complicités, Michael Schreiber (Primal Scapes) ou Mario Meyendriesch (IG-75)
invités de l'album. Amusante perpective de vous savoir déjà embarqué vers
quelques perspectives d'appréciation ... no way baby ! Vous venez de rater
la sortie de l'autobahn.
Allons ! Sven Piayda ne s'attrape pas si facilement - Demandez-lui s'il
est musicien ? Musicalement, Record Of Tides a toujours refuser de choisir,
INTERCELESTIAL n'appartient à aucun de ces fichus genres destructeurs
- Textures et structures qui s'étirent et évitent tous les écueils.
Accepter (enfin) de perdre sa boussole. Apprécier la simple distance appuyée
entre un "Nice Try" et le triangle "The Beach" est en mesure de transformer
quiconque en fan inconditionnel - Certitude ou réserve avertie ? Choisissez
!
ROT s'intentionne uniquement sur l'après, le demain, le jour où enfin
nous saurons, à la faveur d'hier, que nous détestons enfin (cordialement)
toute possible nostalgie.
thierry massard
nocovision.com
and
there is even more feedback on bandcamp and facebook:
a richly immersive sonic universe, meticulously sculpted and thoughtfully
conceived, unfolds as a journey that expands the listener’s perceptual
horizon, illuminating the imagination across a vast and dynamic spectrum.
— rodrigo passannanti
unexpextedly good in so many strange ways. approved!
—
tamas zsiros
sven piayda a.k.a. record of tides [has] a blog to follow, besides [he
is] an artist to follow. definitely try to catch him live you happen to
be around (it is a total blast, undoubtedly!), and also check out his
latest album that we released on one of the most beautiful cassettes ever,
if you still haven't: mahorka.bandcamp.com/album/intercelestial
—
ivo petrov, mahorka
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