Tegu

Tegu

Owl Island

Not Not Fun

The second outing by Hunter Thompson’s tribalist dub alias Tegu skews more spectral and simmering, a canopy of cascading keys, hand percussion, and swells of everglades bass: Owl Island. Recorded in early 2024 on the banks of a Floridian canal, the album’s 11 tracks roll in like shifting fog over an ancient marsh, swaying with low end and loops of humid synths. Across 53 minutes, the music moves between séance and visitation, alternately transient and expectant, bathed in a sheen of starlight and streetlights. Fellow voyagers Wave Temples and X.Y.R. join for a pair of smoky, cosmic cameos, but otherwise this is a solitary affair – locked in, looking up, mapping new constellations in the expanding void.

Tegu

Forest Hills

Not Not Fun

Rogue Florida entity Tegu debuts with 12-track nocturnal dub fever dream, Forest Hills. Field recordings, tape loops, vocal haze, FX, and thrifted Yamaha keys coalesce and dissipate on narcoleptic night walks past palm-shaded ponds, orange orchards, and fluorescent swamps murmuring with birds, frogs, and insects. Recorded largely in a single 24-hour block of attuned lo-fi improv, this is music of peripheries and private spheres, traced in faint horizons of hanging moss, water, and moonlight. Lost tropics for liquid memories, treading shrouded pathways of constant change.