333 Mirrors by Torus

Tresor Records is proud to announce 333 Mirrors from Torus, the artist alias of Joeri Woudstra. Coupled with its catalogue number 333, it indicates the large-scale conceptual thoughts behind the record, typical of Woudstra's practice. As an artist, he sets out to frame re-interpretable references that trigger some subconscious recognition in listeners, with no set way to interpret them but leading to singular feelings and thought processes. The effect, a combination of static electronic sounds and looser field recordings, speaks to each listener differently.

333 Mirrors is, in part, the continuation of a project called These Cars Do Not Exist, made with videographer Mark Prendergast during the Covid-19 limbo. The live performed short film sold out selected popup cinemas in 2020 in a short sprint of shows. Two of the tracks on that project, Sound of the Drums and Chroniko, are re-imagined on 333 Mirrors, emanating as versions created in live performances. Set to be released as a single, Chroniko VIP will be accompanied by an enduring theme from that project, the three-winged bird, this time deceased. On 333 Mirrors, in exploring the ambient, stretched sonic universe of this project more, Woudstra moves from these three-winged birds to the phoenix, finding a rebirth on the b-side with tracks that inhabit a similar sound as Deep Mid, Torus's inclusion on the recent Tresor 30 compilation.

The sound of Torus places importance on the multi-faceted approach to sampling, pushing the idea behind the practice beyond usual boundaries. How to break the unwritten rules? Woudstra looks within by resampling previous Torus releases and reverse-engineering the sounds of the most revered pop and electronic musicians alive today, references that trigger recognition, melancholy and nostalgia in the listener.

3000 Mirrors features a staccato arpeggiating rigid pattern, the sonic effect of standing in front of a strobe until it becomes the anchor. Silence and interruption are used as a device to explore the physically uncomfortable, more the central compositional tool than the disrupted harmonic structures.

Woudstra has never stepped foot in Tresor, so when writing this record, an enduring question spoke to him, what is Tresor when you have never been? How do you sample the essence of an unknown location? The closing track, Omnia, is the sound of anticipation, where the rave beckons. This imagined industrial space is calling for you.

When Tresor opened on March 13th 1991 in a shack on Potsdamer Platz, beneath which the vault of the Wertheim department store lay, no one would have thought that from there would arise an institution that one day would celebrate 33 years of existence.

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