Over the years, Asher’s work has maintained a consistency explicated both by the gradual decreasing of his output – in contrasting tendency to the dozens of releases provided by lesser “specialists” – and the definitive ratification of a highly individual style, basically revolving around the use of a restricted palette from a record to another. Without intransigence, letting the sonic materials imply rather than describe, this reclusive gentleman has quietly established a standard of expression that is extremely gratifying in its mix of artless accessibility and indisputable profundity. For the two chapters of Untitled Landscapes, Asher was focusing more on the quality of the starting sounds (previously used in Landscape Studies) than on the methods of assemblage; he listened to the results of these further aggregations in various settings and environments, to the point of leaving them resonate across the house “to experience them the same way as I would the refrigerator, a passing car or the wind in the trees”. Many times we have reported about records constructed upon similar grounds, but the sense of silent restraint and concentrated sorrow that Asher is able to transmit in his sound world remains unique. Almost 80 minutes of subtly shifting frequencies – combining wheezy granularity and ebbing-and-flowing synthetic pitches – generate the somewhat conscious cloudiness that we need from time to time, when we prefer something to stay undefined. Like those unclear thoughts that our brain attempts to originate to push an uncomfortable truth away.