Carmen Villain - Memoria (2026)

Carmen Villain ponders the significance of reflection in all its forms on 'Memoria', overdubbing flutes, strings and trumpet (supplied by Johanna Orellana, André Bratten, Ole Henrik Moe and Eivind Lønning) with vanishing, effervescent rhythms and spiritual dissonances. It's her weightiest transmission to date, a properly focused fusion of deep listening, dub techno and fourth world jazz that's essential listening FFO Actress, Pole, Jon Hassell, Laurel Halo.

There's a scene in Apichatpong Weerasethakul's 'Memoria' where Tilda Swinton's character is sitting with a sound engineer, trying to describe a mysterious booming sound she heard during the night. He scrolls through samples - a meme-able moment that'll be familiar to even the most casual producer - until her memory is triggered and she can make a connection. Carmen Hillestad assumes that role on her fifth album, considering the cultural significance of memory but neatly avoiding nostalgia, something she discerningly refers to as solipsistic introspection. Hillestad posits that deep listening is a way for us to relate more profoundly with our surroundings, using sonic triggers to provoke a cosmic level of contemplation that should be familiar to anyone who stuck around long enough with Weerasethakul's film to catch the blink-and-you'll-miss-it finale. We get a brief taster of what that might mean with opener 'Labour of Imagination', when Orellana's flutes and Hillestad's own clarinet are reshaped into cloudy atmospherics, one part sublime ambiance, one part hallucinogenic free jazz.

The album's aesthetic backbone is revealed on 'Entre Nosotros', a slithering, decelerated monster of a track that fogs its Andy Stott-style chug with circuitous piano improvisations that only become properly visible after a few plays. The crucial moment comes when the beat disappears completely and what's left isn't silence, but tape hiss, echo trails and dissonances from Hillestad's processes. As the track draws to a close, the piano dissolves completely; listen in the background and you won't catch it, zoom in a little and you'll be hypnotised, we promise. And on the title track, we're served with an expansion of the themes Hillestad introduced us to on that genius 'Holding a Shape' 12” a few weeks back. Referencing Pole, Torsten Pröfrock, Rhythm & Sound and Mille Plateaux's 'Clicks & Cuts' anthologies, she uses our associations with dub and the glitch aesthetic to guide us to a false conclusion. The beat never really comes, instead a loose rhythm forms from vibrating subs and vertiginous, whooshing echoes.

Hillestad buries her concept in the details: the ghost rhythms that manifest and vanish like electrical interferences and the weightless drone that flickers unsteadily in the backdrop until the track's final, profound moments. In a way, it's the antithesis of the "power ambient" sound - just when you think it’ll all get steamrolled by distortion, Hillestad pulls back and reveals a different emotional layer instead. Honestly, we hear more jazz in this than what gets passed off as ambient these days. Like its predecessors, 'Memoria' is still shepherded by the influence of Jon Hassell's fourth world - just check the shimmering 'Hope Synapses', for example - but at this stage in her career, Hillestad has made it entirely her own. Her music isn't reducible to a single element or single inspiration, it's a deeply personal alloy of philosophies and ideas that she's considered and refined over the course of five albums and a handful of EPs and singles. And the more attention you give it, the more you’ll discover.