Museum of No Art - Travelling at the Speed of Time EP
Формат записи/Источник записи: [TR24][OF]
Наличие водяных знаков: Нет
Год издания/переиздания диска: 2025
Жанр: Experimental, Minimal, Modern Classical
Издатель (лейбл): Dispari
Продолжительность: 00:16:16
Наличие сканов в содержимом раздачи: Только обложка альбома
Треклист:
01. Travelling at the Speed of Time I (7:36)
02. Travelling at the Speed of Time II (0:50)
03. Travelling at the Speed of Time III (3:43)
04. Travelling at the Speed of Time IV (4:07)
Контейнер: FLAC (*.flac)
Тип рипа: tracks
Разрядность: 24/44,1
Формат: WAV (flac.ape.wv)
Количество каналов: 2.0
Лог проверки качества
foobar2000 1.6.16 / Dynamic Range Meter 1.1.1
log date: 2025-11-26 14:18:39
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Analyzed: Museum of No Art / Travelling at the Speed of Time
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DR Peak RMS Duration Track
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DR11 -1.00 dB -15.49 dB 7:36 01-Travelling at the Speed of Time I
DR10 -1.90 dB -16.29 dB 0:50 02-Travelling at the Speed of Time II
DR12 -1.02 dB -16.29 dB 3:43 03-Travelling at the Speed of Time III
DR10 -1.02 dB -13.68 dB 4:07 04-Travelling at the Speed of Time IV
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Number of tracks: 4
Official DR value: DR11
Samplerate: 44100 Hz
Channels: 2
Bits per sample: 24
Bitrate: 1214 kbps
Codec: FLAC
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Источник (релизер): redacted Об альбоме (сборнике)
Only a clarinet sings – minimal, quivering, wavering. Breathing mad notes in the cracks between notes, weaving a dazed, fuzzy kind of magic. The latest recordings by Museum of No Art are tripping – floating in suspense, somewhere out in the irrational corners of the world inhabited by the haunted elegance of Ben Bertrand or Bernhard Herrmann. But still, entirely her own – a quiet revolt of classical clichés in search of a new dawn for lunatic woodwinds. She sings through her instrument and it sings to her. It carries her, and she lets it. A distinctive timbre tumbling through tonal fog.
Four freely formed compositions for dispari. One petite and tempting. Two mid-length wanderers – teetering, wobbling. And one epic piercer. All drifting in inspiring airs. Ephemeral, nebulous, fragile, like the desolate candy snowman, melting on a warm tongue, threatened with complete dissolution. Fleeting like a stolen glimpse of the intimate curve of an anonymous stranger’s neck.