Released in March 2026, Nocturnal Consolations brings together two of the region’s most distinctive experimental voices: Raphael Rogiński and Iztok Koren. Both artists had already left a strong impression with their 2025 releases — Rogiński through Bura, a reinterpretation of Serbian folk traditions, and Koren as part of Širom, whose In the Wind of Night stood as one of the most immersive records of the year.
Here, they meet on more abstract ground, constructing a quiet, exploratory record built on texture, space, and subtle interplay between instruments.
The album unfolds as a kind of pastoral soundscape. Across banjo, guembri, kalimba, harmonium, analog synths, and Rogiński’s electric guitar, the duo create a constantly shifting palette of tones that feel both ancient and forward-looking. There’s a strong sense of intention behind the minimalism — not emptiness, but space carefully carved out for each sound to resonate.
From the opening track, I Put Horns On My Worries, this approach is immediately clear. Warm, hazy guitar lines drift alongside banjo and steel drum textures, creating something that feels both grounded and weightless. There’s a gentle, almost spring-like quality to the sound — an awakening rather than a statement.
Much of the album follows this logic of suggestion rather than direction. Tracks like Island in the Midst of a Dried-Up Sea and Secrets Reveal Themselves Gently feel less like compositions and more like environments. Acoustic strings, bassy guembri tones, and delicate percussive elements blend into a soft, flowing whole, encouraging the listener to drift rather than focus.
There’s also a subtle narrative quality embedded in the track titles themselves — small fragments that guide the imagination without imposing meaning. The Children Have Grown Up carries an understated emotional weight, its Eastern-leaning tonalities and gentle harmonic movement evoking reflection and distance. Elsewhere, the spirit is becoming a desert leans further into dusk-like ambience, where the music becomes more sparse, slightly darker, and quietly introspective.
At its best, Nocturnal Consolations feels like a series of fleeting images: a car moving slowly through an open landscape, animals gathering at water, light fading across a wide horizon. The album excels in these moments of stillness, where its simplicity becomes immersive.
However, this same restraint also defines its limitations. Over the course of 45 minutes, the palette — while rich in texture — remains relatively narrow. The reliance on similar tonal colours and pacing can cause tracks to blur together, with ideas occasionally feeling extended rather than developed. It’s not a question of musicianship, which is consistently excellent, but of variation: the album struggles to step outside of its carefully defined atmosphere.
In comparison to Koren’s work with Širom or Rogiński’s Bura, this record feels more contained. Where those releases moved between contrasting moods — shifting from light to darkness, tension to release — Nocturnal Consolations largely stays within a single emotional register. It moves subtly between shades of calm, from soft morning light to hazy evening, but rarely pushes beyond that spectrum.
Still, there is something quietly compelling in that choice. Rather than aiming for dramatic arcs, the album commits fully to immersion — a slow, meditative exploration of sound, texture, and space. Nocturnal Consolations remains a thoughtful and carefully constructed record — one that rewards patience, even if it occasionally risks fading into its own atmosphere.
Where to Find Them
- Bandcamp: listen & support on Bandcamp
