Marsfield is one of the several projects involving Hull’s Andrew Chalk, who hopefully needs no introduction by now. On this LP, his creative partner is the unsung Brendan Walls, an Australian sound artist who came to relative prominence thanks to Cassia Fistula, and one of the Englishman’s regular collaborators. The music on Three Sunsets Over Marsfield is dated 2002, but heaven knows why nine years have elapsed before its release, since it belongs among the most stunning works that both men have ever produced. I’ll say this at the risk of Chalk’s discontent: this music is deeply reminiscent of Mirror, so nostalgic admirers of that duo will, like me, thrill at its ash cloud of inert vapours and torpid, thick layering. On the first side, murmured melodies lie under a wavering mantra, like those phantom creatures you see trembling on the horizon while staring at the water at sunset. The second half is just as amazing, mixing leaden shades and indiscernible shifts of vibrational intensity into a subaqueous chorale of dejectedness. You could listen for weeks and unearth new inspiration every time – a CD reissue must be the crucial next step.