Pre-order of Siccar Point. You get 1 track now (streaming via the free Bandcamp app and also available as a high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more), plus the complete album the moment it’s released.
Purchasable with gift card
Download available in 16-bit/44.1kHz.
releases February 13, 2026
£9GBP or more
Record/Vinyl + Digital Album
Includes digital pre-order of Siccar Point.
You get 1 track now
(streaming via the free Bandcamp app
and also available as a high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more), plus the
complete album the moment it’s released.
Siccar Point is the second album release from Intertoto, and is a study of the geographical extremes on the east coast of his native Scotland. The eight pieces of music on the album serve as vignettes portraying this ancient headland, while also acting as an allegorical reference to the pioneering work of Scottish geologist James Hutton, who proposed that geological features are not static but undergo continuous transformation over indefinitely long periods of time.
With this theory — and the striking landscape — in mind, Jamie Coull, aka Intertoto, imagines tectonic forces through tension, space, density, and texture. Divergent and convergent boundaries are realised in different moods throughout. Siccar Point opens with the irregular drift of Raw Lunar Concrete, a track that undulates asymmetrically, pulling you off balance before settling into the pulse of Condor Launch and Cloud Chamber — the more veiled club moments of the album.
Further into the strata, Siccar Point mines deep into the dense textures of Metallic Veins and Redox Dub, before closing with the cascading outro Foraber, shimmering with tones that imagine a view outward from the rocky promontory — beyond the vanishing point.
credits
releases February 13, 2026
All tracks written and produced by Jamie Coull
Fold co-written and co-produced by Tom Mattison
Mixed and mastered by Radovan Scasascia
Lacquers cut by Jason Goz at Transition Mastering
Published by What About Never Music
“Do you still dream in water?” she asks.
He nods—“only when it rains inside.”
Their words drift, slow like signal loss,, soft clicks between heartbeats.
A drone hums overhead,
its shadow stroking their faces.
“Are we free now?” she whispers.
He laughs, small, broken. “We’re just less afraid.”
They share one headphone,
listening to the city’s pulse—
loops of breath,
echoes of what could’ve been
“Hold me,” she says.
“I am,” he answers,
“in the static.” magoski