The Seven Fields of Aphelion steps out from the shadows (in a manner of speaking) of Tobacco and Black Moth Super Rainbow to release Periphery, out now on Graveface Records. An angelic album of ambient moods and textures, impressionistic, sweeping and intimate in the same breath, Periphery personifies dream-like.  As Aaron Jentzen mentioned in his City Paper review, the BMSR keyboardist has surprisingly forsaken percussion of any kind. With Tobacco’s tendency to embrace 808 kick drums and hip-hop beat making so readily, its refreshing (cleansing?) to see Aphelion compose music that is almost defiantly atmospheric and shapeless.

Tracks after the jump.

Like Boards of Canada’s Music Has the Right to Children, the album comes damn close to defying description. Song titles like “Cloud Forest,” “Fever Sleep” and “Starlight Aquatic” paint the pictures themselves; any rational analysis of these compositions is a moot point. Periphery is an headphone album, pure and simple. A never ending crescendo of ethereal clouds of vapor-like synths and whirring piano lines, the occupied white space of the album builds with an odd sense of pressure. Nothing startling or worrisome, just warm pillows of billowing matter to rest your head on.

Two tracks stand out to me, “Grown” and “Michigan Icarus,” for no real reason other than I felt them more easily than I felt the others, their impressions seemed a tad more distinct. Actually, I’m not really sure, it doesn’t matter. Find a way into Periphery and stay there. Everyone needs a vacation from the tangible once in a while and The Seven Fields of Aphelion know exactly where to take you.

The Seven Fields of Aphelion – Grown

The Seven Fields of Aphelion – Michigan Icarus

The project represents what is basically Graveface Records’ house band. “Shrieks” casually injects some macabre wonder into air via tumbling organs, horror movie samples, and marching drums that invoke the House of Usher in all its dilapidated glory. It’s a goofy one-off, for sure, but a total delight in the same measure.

I spoke recently of how singer-songwriter Jane Herships easily crystallized that emotional transition of the fall season as one looks toward the winter ahead. Marshmallow Ghosts, however, take a snapshot of the eerie October nights, haunted houses, graveyards and Vincent Price kitsch that permeate the best kind of Halloween spirit.  It’s not especially sinister,  just delightfully camp in an exceedingly creepy way.

I think we can all appreciate that our Halloween rests in the hands of seasoned experts.

The Marshmallow Ghosts – Shrieks