Like a haunted soundtrack to a mysterious, heart-rending documentary: excerpts from a cassette found in a Virginia thrift store, scored with droning electronics, voices, and saxophone. The tape is the diary of a woman (probably middle-aged) speaking to someone she’s in a long-distance relationship with, and her audio letters allude to a battle with illness. The record begins with her saying: “Good morning my love. It is Saturday morning at 11:25. The date is the 28th of October. No darling, it’s the 28th of April. I’m not well.” The music is unsettling, anxious, deep, humid. Lots of warm but dissonant drones and glitching noise, with moments of unrestrained beauty. It gives the illusion that you’re sitting with her, sharing her doubts, desires, fears, wishes. An immersive exercise in distant compassion. Play any, or play continuously. No FCCs.

1. (2:57)—Dissonant, deep, droning horns. Ghostly synths and flitting voice.
2. (3:44)—She wonders at the delay in her lover’s replies. High synth drone, 80s-esque grainy synth melody. Distortion and noise.
3. (2:40)—No tape excerpt. Wordless voices. Glitching at the edges. Subtle bass. Vibraphone.
4. (4:41)—Reading from a book of meditations. High, soft vibraphone. Distorted, ominous synth bass. Intense, loud.
5. (2:47)—“Rained like hell yesterday…” Smoldering, spectral. Gentle, off-kilter synth melody. Lovely stand-up bass.
6. (5:13)—Going into the hospital. Windy drone, soft synths, granular synth bass.
7. (5:34)—Out of the hospital, feeling lonesome and not well. Warped new-age piano. Soothing horns. Sensitive sax solo.
8. (3:14)—No tape excerpt. Chaotic, sparkling noise. Disorienting synth washes. Sputtering sounds.
9. (6:23)—“It looks like you’re getting ready to just walk right out of that picture and talk to me.” Bright drone. Deep, warm drone. Gleaming vibraphone. Calm, moving ending.