Induction / Mutation 2CD
Previously a digital-only release as part of Francisco López's Two-Headed Snake series of collaborations, this split release between him and equally legendary composer Éric La Casa features the two working independently, but from shared source material. What exactly that source material is never becomes entirely clear, but it gives a consistency between two very different, amazing works.
Swarming
The source material specified is just 11 years of "objects and spaces," so any clear identification beyond what occasionally sounds like field recordings is pretty much impossible. Certain characteristics of sound appear clearly throughout both artists' compositions but utilized in noticeably different ways.
La Casa contributes two pieces of around 18 minutes each on the first disc. "Everyday Unknown 6" opens with a low frequency clicking that is blended with fragments of digital glitches. He quickly changes structures and elements, resulting in an extremely dynamic and evolving piece that never seems disorganized or chaotic. Mixing strange textures, clicks, and vibrations with what sounds like birds, wind, and fragments of conversation, he combines the identifiable with the abstract. By the end, he has paired rising waves of noise and a metallic, factory-like clattering.
"Everyday Unknown 7" first has La Casa utilizing open space more, until implementing sweeping electronic passages and a mix of digital/interference like noises. Through dramatic transitions he builds dense clusters of sound and allows them to disintegrate. He creates a fully enveloping quality to the piece, mixing panning roars of sound and deep, creaking noises. The environments change and the shifts are occasionally disorienting, but he balances that movement with an excellent implementation of silence and subtlety. 
López's contribution is a single 49-minute piece, "Untitled #446." Right from the onset his material is substantially different from La Casa’s two. López joins a wet, bubbling bath with deep, electronic pulsations, conjuring a sense of aquatic depth. At first there is a lesser sense of open spaces and more sustained passages of sound. Crackles and digital type outbursts draw clear connections to La Casa's half of the release, but López's assembly is significantly different.
Abrupt drops to silence occur, signaling transitions within the composition. After the first, he returns with a suite of pops and crackles with that resemble buzzing insects. Far-off rumbles and distant crashes appear before he allows the sound to drift into essentially silence. He re-establishes the piece with muffled textures and digital fragments, eventually coalescing into sputtering series of noises. Shifting to a simmering layer of audio, López layers these passages upon one another, eventually interlocking into a complex loop before he slowly pulls things apart, leading to a slow drift back into silence. 
The consistent textures of Induction/Mutation between both La Casa's and López's compositions that are most apparent are indistinct clicks, pops, and glitches that grab me in an ASMR sort of way that is difficult to describe, but massively captivating. Beyond something that subjective, the two create such different pieces from the same core materials that in any context would be impressive and captivating. Even though they go in different directions with the material, that common foundation creates a sense of cohesion that works extremely well, making for another exceptional release in both of their lengthy discographies. 
Creaig Dunton for Brainwashed. https://brainwashed.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=33216&Itemid=855

A two-disc release from La Casa and López that shares nothing overtly in common. La Casa has been, for a good quarter century now, one of the finer, most imaginative creators working with field recordings, often concentrating on urban environments, especially the quotidian sounds encountered routinely but rarely listened to closely. Here, he presents two tracks, 'Everyday Unknown 6' and 'Everyday Unknown 7', where the sounds fluctuate between the seemingly unfiltered and the (possibly) transmogrified. The first opens with some overlaid rhythmic patterns unusual for La Casa — one wonders momentarily if he's shifting gears. But after a few minutes, things settle down into a series of electric tones, as if from some overworked generator, echoing traffic, vaguely heard human speech and more, creating a pulsing fabric that envelops the listener. The final few minutes settle into a sequence of sparse, quiet taps, gurgles and scrapes. A lovely, immersive work. The second begins a bit more removed, industrial but muffled, as if partially heard from the other side of a wall, perhaps underground (La Casa, previously, has made frequent use of large parking lots). Again, there are more elements in play than might be immediately apparent, something one picks up whenever listening to an urban space. It remains in a similar territory throughout, fluctuating a bit here and there but, generally, possessing a more contemplative aspect. Both are welcome additions to La Casa's oeuvre. López has been in the game even longer, some forty years, with uncounted releases; this one is 'untitled #446', to give some idea. A single piece, almost 50 minutes in length, its sources also appear to be industrial and/or electronic, with a certain amount of iteration in effect, often on the surface, other times buried. Much of the middle of the work is fairly quiet, sometimes almost inaudible; the sense of being in a subterranean environment with distant, muted mechanical activity taking place. The last third returns to the series of rhythmic, industrial-based overlays before subsiding into emptiness. It's an effective piece overall, though I might have wished for less of a concentration on iterative patterns and more on a looser ambience, but it works well enough on its own terms. I imagine there are López completists out there (a formidable task!) and from this listener's knowledge of his work, 'untitled #446' fits right in, but to these ears, it's the pair of La Casa compositions that are invaluable.
Brian Olewnick for Squid's EAR, https://www.squidco.com/cgi-bin/news/newsView.cgi?newsID=3015