Raymond Dijkstra calls himself a “sculptor, painter, drawer and composer of acoustic music”. We already met him several times through the years, both with solo releases and under the Dadaphon alias. He clearly prefers vinyl to make his sounds heard, and in this particular case the two albums are interesting items as artistic objects in themselves, contained as they are in a linen hardcover box with debossed gold print on total black. The music, in both records, is made of a few elements, and apparently is totally improvised. The most evident sound is a shrieking, frictional rubbing of strings and/or metals – like a wrecked violin or a creaking door’s noise, but not quite. It’s incessant, uneasy, anarchic and unclassifiable. At times, the source is treated with echo and other effects but just so slightly, in order for the whole to be “spaced out” a bit. In the background, something like an electric organ or a harmonium continuously arpeggiates in unpredictable ways, similar to a crazed sequencer. But its volume in the mix is so low that one just feels that presence. Both albums feature a pretty long first side and a very short second side, in a sort of symmetry. On “Die Sonne” we read “In memoriam Jacoba Francisca Josephine Dijkstra-Nettekoven”; this seems to be the only real difference in these practically twin records. With Raymond Dijkstra, you get exactly what you see and hear; that’s not bad amidst a lot of people whose hollow words hide a total absence of anything meaningful.