For his entry in the Touch Radio series, its 33rd, Jon Wozencroft has compiled 15 archival recordings, ranging from train sounds he taped for a Neville Brody exhibition, to overheard conversation, to rain and birdsong, to a field recording of the coast of France mixed with a bit of cassette surface noise (MP3). The majority are real-world recordings, but there is the odd bit of analog-synth humor. Some of the samples receive a modicum of post-production, notably the looping of brief moments.
The “field” sounds heard here are somehow both delicate and earthy, refined and raw. They’re generally simple noises, the aural equivalent of casual snapshots, and it may require a certain amount of attention to discern individual elements. There is a surfeit of silence, within which a handful of footsteps, or a passing car, or a dash of thunder, might suddenly and briefly make its presence heard. Wozencroft has also made available a digital document summarizing the provenance of the various source material (PDF). More info at touchradio.org.uk.
This delicate collaboration between Aymeric de Tapol & François Martig has extended periods of held tones, like a phone call cut off or a distant foghorn. There’s one such moment early in the three-track EP’s final cut (“Ijslandgnol,” 
It’s worth taking the title of Kixly‘s new Cyan Recs EP release, Lossless Tape-loops in Pop Form, at face value. All six of its tracks appear to have been built from brief snatches of audio recordings, which are looped and gingerly layered to within humming distance of song form. The sound and title of the third track exemplify the album’s modus operandi. “Givers [On Danceable Rhythms] Morning Ritual [On Atmosphere] Band Hammer [On Bass] (Kixly R3M1><)” suggests three found elements each serving as a different segment of the song — and that is very much how it functions. There’s an opening chunk of apparent field recording that risks turning potential listeners away with its entrenched skipping-record looping. Then, about a minute and a half in, a rhythmic counterpoint enters, and later still there’s a kind of cash-register funk added. For many listeners, five and a half minutes of such a thing may be a serious test of patience, but once you give yourself over to Kixly’s restraint, it’s quite beautiful.