The idea of a ‘genius loci’, or spirit of place, permeates these recordings of church organ, saxophone and indomitable avian choirs. Keyboardist Kit Downes and saxophonist Tom Challenger are documented here locked deep in conversation with their surroundings – the churches of the Suffolk countryside – while nature, in turn, reciprocates with plenty of bonus backchat. The two elements settle on an unfolding habitual consensus detailed in moans and whistles. Cavernous drones – not unlike those pursued by Pauline Oliveros with her Deep Listening Band – resonate around the cloisters before the calming chirrups of birdsong break through (as on ‘Jyotir), slowing the pace down to Béla Tarr-like cinematic speeds (‘Maar-ikar’). There's a real sense that this meditative music is being borne on the breeze, riding a carousel of glorious vectors above our heads. While writers such as Iain Sinclair and WG Sebald have previously sought to map out their own personal psychogeographies of England, Kit Downes and Tom Challenger have created something far more universal, a democratic tone poem, where every imagination is invited to chart its own Suffolk landscape.

Jazzwise spoke to Kit Downes about the album

Can you explain the connection between the album's Sanskrit song-titles and the sounds of the Suffolk countryside? Are the birds we hear the flying machines denoted in the title,Vyamanikal?

The album is very loosely and abstractly about the idea of flight, as well as providing a meditation on how machinery intersects with nature – the organ being a great example of this. The Sanskrit reference is to a type of mythical flying machine – written about in Sanskrit texts – which is controlled with the mind. Tom and I like to think of organs in the same way.

How explicit is the relationship between this music and nature, and to what extent does nature respond to the sounds you are creating?

It's as much about nature as it is about machines. One of the churches we used was just a stone's throw from Sizewell B – this grand industrial nuclear cathedral looking out over the flat plains of the Suffolk coastline – it makes for a fascinating juxtaposition. The organ itself is all about moving air (flight of a sort), but it does so in a clunky way sometimes. Some of the nicest chance interactions on the record are between Tom's sax and the birdsong. It's hard to tell them apart sometimes.

In what way does this music link back to your ‘jazzier’ output?

Just in the same way as it links back to all the other things that I do – through me, my experiences and my choices.

Is there a nostalgic or meditative aspect to this music that you would like to explore further?

Yes, definitely, particularly the meditative aspect. Me and Tom are always trying to ‘slow down’ with this music. The organ is a big cumbersome instrument sometimes, and for it to speak in the way we want we really have to embrace space and waiting. The really good stuff is in the details of the music – like the sound of air going through the pipes, creaks and groans from inside the body of the organ, blending vibratos with Tom's saxophone – things like that you can only explore quietly and slowly.