Since I first posted Samn Johnson‘s music on Portals, his canon has gradually evolved. Many mainstays of the young Ann Arborite’s classical-informed epics remain, whether they be a melding of electronic elements and live strings, an orchestral approach to composition, or persistent excursions in cerebral themes informed by musique concrète, yet his newest release finds him in a state of comfortable self-awareness—a maturity that shines through the entirety of Epistulae Hieme.

Most notably, where Samn’s past efforts were often veiled in a dark, melancholy tone, Epistulae Hieme consists of a full palate of rich colors, varied in both intensity and age. His willingness to infuse contemporary percussive elements, such as the triplet kick drum pattern in album opener “Bäume im Herbst,” is nicely coupled with curious clicks and aesthetically organic samples. The combination of Samn’s background in classical music composition and his willingness to experiment leaves me with an unshakable liking to exploring an endless labrynth of pixelated wooden doors in the PC game Titanic: Adventure Out of Time.

But what really makes Epistulae feel special to me is Samn’s use of reoccurring melody and tone which allow the work to be a catalyst for complex thoughts upon familiarity and memory. Take a full listen to Epistulae Hieme below, and perhaps you’ll see what I mean.

Here are some thoughts on the release from Samn himself:

I started work on Epistulae Hieme in early 2011. Many of the tracks which made their way onto this album were intended to be part of my first album, Variations, which is essentially a compilation of remixes. At some point I made up my mind to remove the tracks that don’t use sampling from Variations and expand them into a separate album, and thus Epistulae Hieme was born. I came up with the name (which means “letters from winter” in Latin) when I was under the optimistic delusion that I would finish the work during the winter of 2011-12. It ended up taking me over a year longer to finish it. However, this title continued to inform my ideas about the structure of the album. I gradually became aware of a metaphor that each piece is like a letter—a brief summary of an experience, or an idea that I am trying describe and express. This album was my diary for the last two years and served as both a source for new ideas and a place to record them. I’ve come to view the album as a personal document more than anything else, a reaction which inspired my cover art, essentially a series of “notes to self,” or phrases that I have often caught myself repeating in my mind. I tend to avoid lyrics because they feel exhibitionist and vulnerable, so this cover art is a bit nerve-wracking for me to release. However, I think a collection of handwritten personal thoughts fits the epistolary nature of this work and is a good visual accompaniment.

I think that working on this for so long caused me to lose sight of any overarching concept or narrative, and it is simply a record of my music making activity over the last couple years. The melodies that run throughout may create an illusion of central planning, but were actually an afterthought. Towards the end of the process I became concerned that it was too incoherent and fragmentary, which caused me to rewrite many of the songs so that they would include common themes.

There is a quote by the philosopher Merleau-Ponty which goes something like, “My own thoughts take me by surprise and teach me what I think.” This aptly describes how I feel about this album. I am sometimes astonished by how electronic and beat-dominated it is, and I don’t particularly remember deciding to make it that way. For many years I only wrote acoustic classical music, then started making ambient music, then somehow ended up here. This music certainly contains elements of classical music, but there is no denying that it is a departure. During the time I was working on this I was hardly aware of exerting changes on my style, and have only recently realized that I stumbled onto something different.