One of the releases hidden by the usual pile of promos, that sometimes cover outputs that deserve attention in the recent months, is this aural pearl that Argentinean Berlin-based composer, musician, and producer Mario Verandi sent to my attention in the last months. Cd edition of "Remansum" (Latin word that can be translated as 'persisting' in English) is currently out of print (but maybe you can found it somehow), but I read the charmingly packaged vinyl (limited) edition, as well as the digital one, is still available. If you belong to the wise group of listeners, who have a fetish for pieces of vinyl (I proudly belong to this group of music perverts), the first one will meet your tastes as it's released by the American label Time Released Sound (masterfully managed by Colin Herrick), that, besides the quality of the music that spreads over the headphones of a niche of music lovers, is known for the maniacal attention of the physical editions, but I can't say that the people who will opt for the digital editions will be disappointed by the aural content, particularly if you appreciate that kind of electroacoustic ambient, that manages to inject a certain jazzy nuance within elegant neoclassical/electronic ambient frames. Mario often manages to evoke a sense of trepidation inside the seemingly ataraxic movements he forged, where the relapsing piano phrasing can partially surmise the minimalism of Philip Glass, the so-called neo-impressionism of musicians like Akira Kosemura, or the more eccentric approach by Ludovico Einaudi to quote some pretty known names, but the followers of the mentioned artists will easily recognize the intrinsic cleverness of this composer while oozing awesome diversified clues in any aural cameo. You could almost perceive a lighter intensity of the same "voltage" of new wave mood in tracks like "A Tear In The Desert" or "Melted Horizon", the sumptuous tenderness that you could have met in some stuff by Nils Frahm or Philip Glass in "Hazy Sun", the entrancing uneasiness of some acts by The Necks in the catchy opening track "Riven In Time", the mystical declension of piano that Harold Budd rediscovered in the late 90ies in lovely moments like "Small Wings Behind" or "Bosque" as well as a bridge to shamanic ancient traditions (particularly evoked by the vocal part) in "Ayse". Sometimes you could have the feeling that Mario forged a sonic monument to the concept of perennial permanency by a more or less clear evocation of some forgotten glorious past, but the daydreaming melancholy that Mario's music can inspire can easily take root in the present time we're experiencing.