First ever vinyl edition of this Italian neo-noir ambient broodfest from 1992. Thanks to some canny ripper or other, it’s enjoyed the kind of internet afterlife that its makers wouldn’t have been dreamt of when staring down the barrel of total obscurity in ’92. Like so many key contemporary reissues, this one draws on the early 90s (I guess we finally just ran out of '80s), specifically that moment where the industrial and dark ambient impulse meets the textures and rhythms of AI techno and the nascent chill-out/downtempo explosion (implosion?). It’s lovely stuff, its combination of Luigi Morosin’s infinite guitar shimmer and Andrea Desidera’s longing, lambent synths coming off like a close cousin of Michael Brook and Pieter Nooten’s classic 4AD outing Sleeps With Fishes. It’s rain'n'neon mood is fantastically sustained, but musically it isn’t afraid to wander: ‘Hanging Wave’, with its rolling drums and plumes of all-enveloping reverb, bridges Ingleton Falls-style hypnobeat with the post-rave death-disco of Two Lone Swordsmen, while elsewhere Desidera's more-is-more keyboard approach times drinks from the same well of eldritch folk fantasia as Serge Bulot. But if Skies In The Mirror is a new age record then it’s a pretty paranoid and pessimistic one: see 'T.V. Sky', with its droning fairground chimes and sampled cable infomercial chatter about the cancer-causing properties of your favourite pizza toppings, or Romina Salvadori’s dramatic but distant vocals on ‘Staircase To Nowhere’, seeming to anticipate F ingers at their most ghoulish. But for all these moments of psychedelic unrest, Skies In The Mirror springs back to the kind of upwardly mobile existential angst you'd expect from a Michael Mann movie, and my own persie ‘Falasarna Exposure’ definitely has that Terje Rydpal / Heat soundtrack vibe, careworn but coke-numbed. "I told you I’m never going back…"