I always wondered how many people really possess the inner ability to become connected to the sounds that accompany their existence, up to the point of stopping in their tracks to attribute a value to each one of them, since everything that is received by the ears adds a measure of significance to our memory. Asher’s music speaks to those very reminiscences, teaching us how to become aware of the surrounding world without the need of keeping note of what is actually happening. Printed in a 100-copy limited edition, the album contains three long segments whose intimacy is oddly in contrast with the basic sources used. The latter mostly comprise urban environmental backgrounds including voices from the road, passing cars, police sirens and distant calls. The whole is shrouded by the composer’s trademark veil of hiss and digital dirtiness which, together with weak emissions between synthesis and shortwave, parallels the scene to an autumnal day observed from within the shop we hastily entered because we were surprised by the rain. On paper one would figure these desolated ambiences as the generators of a sense of oppression, or at least transmitting dejection. Instead, Asher’s soundscapes are capable of lifting some of that weight off our shoulders, all the while sweeping aside any residual consideration about aesthetical necessities. This music is not made of nail-biting apprehension, conveying unequivocal messages that highlight short-haul flights to different types of enlightenment. Still, we manage to soil ourselves over the course of life, surrendering to a tangible indifference for something that one day we’ll regret not to have considered more attentively.