Dao Keys Music To Unwire Unwind – Achim Eckert’s Mind-Bending Trip Through Psychedelic Folk and Drone (1998)
Alright, buckle up. This ain’t your grandma’s chill-out album—unless your grandma is into didgeridoos, cello drones, and saxophone wails that sound like they’re melting in real-time. Dao Keys Music To Unwire Unwind by Achim Eckert is one of those records where you either vibe with it hard or walk away scratching your head. Released back in ’98 on dao records (Austria shoutout!), this thing blends folk, world music, and country vibes with heavy doses of psychedelic rock and drone weirdness. It’s messy but intentional, chaotic but calming—a total mindf in the best way possible.
Let’s talk tracks because trying to summarize this whole beast would take forever. First up: "Sax." Holy crap, this one hits different. Jürgen Jagfeld’s tenor saxophone doesn’t just play notes; it screams, whispers, and occasionally throws tantrums. Paired with Eckert’s overtone voice mumbling somewhere in the background, it feels like you’ve wandered into a forest ritual gone wrong—or maybe gloriously right. The percussion from Judy Klausner adds this primal heartbeat underneath, keeping things grounded while everything else spirals out of control. You don’t forget “Sax” after hearing it—it sticks to your brain like gum under a chair.
Then there’s “Beyond Thought & Dream,” which might as well be renamed “What Even Is Reality?” This track leans heavily into drone territory, with layers of ambient noise swirling around like smoke in a dimly lit room. Anna Palden’s cello work here deserves a medal—it’s haunting, raw, and somehow both fragile and powerful at the same time. By the end, you’re not sure if you’ve been meditating or having an existential crisis. Probably both.
The rest of the album keeps the energy flowing, though some tracks lean more experimental than others. Tracks like “Kalimba” bring in lighter, almost playful tones thanks to Klausner’s kalimba skills, while “Pizzicato” showcases Christa Opriessnig’s violin shredding in ways that make you wonder why pizzicato isn’t used more often in psychedelic jams. And let’s not sleep on Achim Eckert himself—he wears about twelve hats here, from piano wizardry to dhol bashing to producing the whole damn thing. Dude clearly had something to prove, and he nailed it.
But here’s the kicker: for all its genre-bending madness, Dao Keys never fully commits to being either relaxing OR intense. It straddles the line like it can’t decide what it wants to be. Maybe that’s the point—to keep you guessing, to force you to sit with discomfort and beauty at the same time. Or maybe Eckert was just winging it. Who knows?
Final thought: Listening to this album feels like stepping into another dimension, except instead of aliens greeting you, it’s a bunch of Austrian musicians jamming in a barn. And honestly? That’s kinda awesome.
