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Swedish composer and multimedia artist Marcus Fjellström's debut Miasmah release follows two critically-acclaimed full length albums on Lampse. In addition, Marcus has had several commissioned works requested, leading to him working with, among others, the Swedish Royal Ballet, the Scottish Chamber Orchestra, numerous ensembles, soloists and filmmakers. Currently based in Berlin, Fjellström's compositions often combine aspects of modern classical composition and arrangement and more avant forms of music, be that acoustic or electronic. Schattenspieler (which translates as "Shadowplayer") takes the form of eleven compositions which explore ambience and melody, texture and silence. Haunting synth and orchestral, instrument-based audio constructions flow from one moment to the next -- the fleeting ghosts of Fjellström's melodies rise, only to be buried under a claustrophobic clutter of percussion and creaking background noise. These pieces do indeed feel like you're listening to something more implied than obviously stated, as if Fjellström wants only to expose his listeners to the shadow of the music -- the implication being perhaps a more terrifying experience than to be confronted outright. The undeniably Angelo Badalamenti-esque descending synth strings of opening track "The Disjointed" lay the foundations for this album; music resting somewhere between the unsettling horror soundtracks of Jerry Goldsmith, the elevating melodies of Cliff Martinez, and the subtle audio constructions of Miasmah label-mates Kreng and Jacaszek. Marcus' wide-ranging abilities in composition and his willingness to let go of accepted form and function makes Schattenspieler a perfect choice of release for the Miasmah label. The suspense-laden "Antichrist Architect Management," with its harrowing and tense undertones, weaving synth lines and washes of static hiss and flicker, is a particular stand-out track. Schattenspieler also includes a four-part suite "House Without A Door," which was originally commissioned for the Bernd Behr film of the same name. "Uncanny Valleys," reflective in some ways of the opening track, is a haze of descending synth and organ tones. The imperfections in these often scratchy recordings makes for an alluring, almost drug-induced state of mind where all that is real is unreal.