Laurie Osborne (Appleblim) describes Liminal Tides with a series of antinomies: awake / asleep, self / no self, and conscious / unconscious mind / no-mind. To these, one could add Bristol / Berlin.
It’s no secret that Osborne has spent much of his career as Appleblim between these two cities. While he picked up the mantle Appleblim in London, DJing early dubstep at the foundational FWD>> clubnights, he began producing the stuff upon moving to Bristol in 2006. Bristol is also where his two record labels got their start: Skull Disco (2005-2008) which he ran with Sam Shackelton, and the solo imprint Apple Pips (2008-present, though largely inactive since 2013). At the same time Appleblim got big in Berlin, Ricardo Villalobos and the rest of the minimal techno crowd taking to the unique strain of dubstep pushed by Skull Disco. And soon after Brexit, Appleblim relocated to Berlin, where he teaches synthesis at Catalyst and composes music, both at home ‘in the box’ and at a Funkhaus studiospace shared between friends. Even still, Osborne retains links to Bristol, for instance, as one half of the acclaimed Wrecked Lightship project with Bristolian Adam Winchester.
All this to say that Liminal Tides sounds like an oceanic midway point between Bristol and Berlin. The album is filled with all gaseous drums and translucent tides of texture, a triple-point between the more hauntological side of post-post-dubstep (artists like fellow Bristol-to-Berlin producer and Sneaker Social Club signee Low End Activist come to mind) that channels the 1990s doyens of Berlin dub techno.
The album begins with “Gaseous,” a birdsong field recording looped and rolled out over chorused dub pads, Monolake’s Hongkong emptied of people and half-returned to the jungle. Appleblim reflects on his love of birdsong, mentioning in a label Q&A how slowing down bird calls draws out their natural glissandos and sonic density that usually lie beyond the limits of human perception—certainly a ‘quiet detail’ if there ever was one. “Warmth” slings out a spindly but still implacably British breakbeat, something that can also be dredged warm and flickering from the depths of “Globule.”
The two most percussive tracks, “Crow Crag” and “Weather Vane,” arrive next Both are driving but in the style of tape hiss-drenched somnambulant fugues rather than being dancefloor ready. The tracks represent dub techno annealed with dubsteppy low-end density and melodic experimentation; the former track layers in bits of Tangerine Dream-esque arpeggiation while chimes punctuate the latter like hypnic jerks. “Seagull” closes the set, the closest thing to a conventional ambient track built almost entirely from a swirling foghorn sample laced with seagull cries. This return to the water and air binds together the cycle of life, of which Liminal Tides’ antimonies are only a part of a coherent whole. (Marcello Ursic)
a closer listen 