From a journal found in a sealed cabinet in the subbasement of a Dutch meat casing factory, dated 1637:
The traveler came over the ridge at the moment the wind picked up. Indeed, it seemed like he had acute control of the elements — and, despite the cold, wore only a thin overcoat, its sleeves shortened, adorned with images of vibrant fauna. By the time he entered the courtyard, I knew this man was clearly a wizard, and a high ranking one at that. I dared not address him as he swung a giant sack down from his back and began setting up his magical implements of untold power: a series of thick boards flecked with colored dots above keys smoother and brighter than those on the harpsichord I had seen played at court on a few occasions. These were instruments, I realized. Without a word, the wizard activated them.
His hands traced a pattern and a series of tones hit the air, rounded and light, repeating, building in intensity, repeating, repeating. I covered my ears, for the sound was too much, but the traveler’s melody burst out above the repeating tones, thick, inhuman, like a future beast made of wood or stone or something sleeker howling along with the wind. I closed my eyes and let the wizard overwhelm me. I don’t know how much time had passed by the time the notes died. I had retreated fully into myself. When I looked up, the wizard was gone.
Lucky for us, JD Emmanuel is back in our century, purveying a new batch of electronic meditations as deep and time-swallowing as his classic output from the mid-80s. Time Traveler, his first full-length album of original material in over a decade, is available now on 2xLP from Belgium’s Aguirre Records.