Relay by Isot

# RELAY

We carved this album from the winter that gripped Karselma, when those radio pylons stood like skinny giants against the white. Three nights we spent inside the old signal hub, instruments pressed against the frozen floor to capture that hollow-metal hum only deep frost can summon.

"Relay" traces the forgotten paths where Bridgers once strung twine between transmission points, searching for voices beyond our silent settlement. Each track maps a station in that desperate chain—from the first weak pulses of "Signal Tracer" to the breakthrough warmth of "Breaker's Reply" when distant voices finally answered back.

The heart of this record beats in salvaged sounds. We dragged a pump organ through snowdrifts to the Null Lot. Pressed contact mics against pylons vibrating in arctic wind. Recorded fox prints in crusty snow and the ping of ice cracking on abandoned housing. That crumbling upright piano we found half-buried in the old community hall still had its voice, though bleeding with cold and memory.

During "Sill Seal," Mira placed the settlement's original doorframe fragment at the center of our circle. The wood was so cold it made the microphones clip—that distortion wasn't planned, but it captured something true about this place. Some memories resist being perfectly preserved.

This is slow music for a slow landscape. No hurry here where time stretches between rare sunlight. We've layered drone upon drone like winters upon winters, letting each note hang until it frays at the edges. The static between tracks? That's authentic shortwave emptiness captured on nights when we pointed old antennas toward horizons no one here remembers.

"Relay" asks what remains when connection fades. When you stand beneath towering structures built to carry voices, but hear only wind. When you're left to imagine what waits beyond the white.

For those who feel the weight of distance, who know the ache of reaching out across emptiness—this album holds space for you. In "Laughter On Snow," we finally captured that phenomenon where sound carries for miles on still winter nights, bringing ghostly fragments of far-off life.

We are Isot. This is our offering. A sonic memorial to human persistence, crafted in the cold quiet where forgotten signals still echo if you know how to listen.

In the frozen silence of forgotten villages, we craft slow-building drone rituals from salvaged mining equipment. Our instrumental landscapes map the ghosts of northern isolation. Listen as permafrost memories dissolve into tape-looped patience.