Martin Jenkins

This latest album from shapeshifting synth conjurer Martin Jenkins is his first for Quiet Details and captures him in one of his more “immersive soundscape” moods. Notably, I have historically been only a casual fan of the playfully retro “library music” side of this project, but Jenkins has previously beguiled me with his The House In The Woods side project on 2021’s Spectral Corridor and this latest opus repeats that feat. In fact, it may very well be his most mesmerizing release yet. It certainly is for me, anyway. 

Notably, Lake Deep Memory was inspired by a 2024 trip to Guatemala’s singular Lake Atitlan, which is located inside a massive volcanic crater. It is also the deepest lake in Central America and a sacred place for the Maya villages that surround it. Channeling that level of sublime natural beauty into music would be a challenge for anyone, but Jenkins wildly exceeded my expectations with the album’s first half using just a simple palette of synth and some well-chosen field recordings taken during his stay.   

Fittingly, the opening title piece opens with the sound of gently lapping waves that share the focus with a gently warping and flickering synth shimmer to conjure a gorgeously sun-dappled dreamscape of happily chirping birds and immersively hallucinatory bliss. It is the sort of piece that I could happily listen to in an infinite loop, so I was a bit sad to see it go the first time that I listened to this album, but that regret soon became a distant memory once the following “Pyroclastic Flow” proved to be similarly stunning.

Stylistically, “Pyroclastic Flow” is a bit closer to expected Pye Corner Audio terrain, but it is still very much on the slow-burning and psychotropic side of the spectrum, as a simple synth pattern is gradually enveloped by rolling motif that pans and smears its way to a deliriously hallucinatory crescendo. Remarkably, it somehow gets even better from there, as it gradually dissolves back into a more trippy, futuristic, and subtly smoldering variation of the opening motif like a phantasmagoric palindrome.

Improbably, the following “Beneath The Noise Floor” marks Jenkins’ third masterpiece in a row, as a sea of simmering distortion gradually reveals recordings of singing children buried deep within the static (like a less sinister variation on Poltergeist’s iconically creepy television scene). That proves to be just the starting point, however, as it then starts to morph into a beatless dub techno motif that leaves plenty of space to luxuriate in the subtle crackle, hiss, and dissolve of the chords. Impressively, Jenkins still managed to save one last feat of sublime sorcery for the final act, as the dub techno motif gradually starts to resemble a jazzy, hypnagogic strain of yacht rock fighting to emerge from the hiss of a broken radio.

Jenkin’s white-hot run finally starts to winds to a close with “Infinite Symphony,” which is a bit more New Age in its tone than the previous pieces, but is absolutely rapturous in its execution, as sensuously looping “strings” gradually blossom into swaying celestial dreaminess. More importantly, it is the most illustrative example of Jenkins’ organically fluid and sublime vision, as themes seamlessly bend, smear, and transform in a beautifully wave-like way, as each lovely passage is gradually washed away to be replaced by something equally beautiful.

Given that murderers’ row of hits, the album’s second half necessarily feels like a bit of a comedown or coda, but the only real dip in quality is that the album merely downshifts from “sustained, song-length stretches of brilliance” to “a brief flash of brilliance in every piece.” For example, there is a section of the half-pastoral/half-kosmische “Beneath The Noise Floor Part Two” that has the dreamlike doppler effect feel of a harmonica chord emanating from a passing train, while the phase-shifting synth drone in “Volcanic Rock” feels like it is radiating psychotropic vibrations directly to the center of my mind.

“Memoria Del Agua” is the strongest of those second-tier highlights, as an dubby, enigmatic percussive sound fades in and out and moves around spatially like it is being carried by shifting wind patterns. There is also a cool choppy, shuddering motif near the end that suggests mysterious black helicopters flying low over a deep forest, which is not something I would  necessarily want hanging around a sacred volcanic lake, but it makes for a pretty killer track nonetheless. In that regard, it certainly has plenty of company, as Lake Deep Memory is positively bulging with ambient bangers. Jenkins really outdid himself with this one.

Listen here.