Journey Music for Psychedelic Playlists: William Tyler — Time Indefinite (2025)
In psychedelic healing work, music is a co-facilitator. The right sound can soften defenses, open emotional gates, or guide the psyche through states that words cannot reach. Music offers structure and sensory orientation, shaping how safety and surrender unfold. Mapping an album through frameworks such as the Copenhagen Music Program (CMP) and Grof’s Basic Perinatal Matrices (BPMs) helps facilitators and listeners understand where each piece might fit, turning the album (or selected tracks) into a living map for transformation.
This series explores albums that function as companions for inner work, especially for neurodivergent listeners. These are my impressions, so always preview the music before the flight.
https://williamtyler.bandcamp.com/album/time-indefinite
William Tyler is a Nashville-based guitarist and composer whose instrumental work lives at the crossroads of folk, country, ambient, and experimental sound. He first came to wider attention playing with Indie rock bands, then developed a solo voice that distills the parts of country music many of us love most: the guitars, the rhythms, the sense of landscape, and without the vocals. His 2016 album Modern Country is full of acoustic guitar-driven songs with occasional bass and drums, an easy record to keep in the background while people keep asking, “What is this?” in a good way. A 2021 collaboration with Portland-based guitarist Marisa Anderson further showcased his ability to weave Americana roots into something more atmospheric and cinematic.
With Time Indefinite, released earlier this year, Tyler steps into his most adventurous and experimental territory so far. This is not simply another instrumental guitar album. It is a meditation on unease, memory, and the feeling of time bending, recorded with cassette decks, phone recordings, and decayed loops, full of tape hiss, spectral noise, and textures that feel like a half-remembered dream. The opening minutes make it clear that something has shifted. Instead of a gently picked guitar, I am dropped into industrial-leaning tape loops and distortion that would be at home on an experimental album or film soundtrack. Much of Time Indefinite feels like a movie I am hearing rather than seeing, with scenes that move from spooky to melancholy, from archaic to futuristic.
Compared with his previous albums, Time Indefinite feels like the product of an artist in evolution rather than expansion alone. Tyler places his guitar inside a broader constellation of sounds, letting drones, pulses, and tape treatments reshape how his melodies function. The result is a record that alternates between disquiet and tenderness, sometimes landing in haunted terrain and sometimes returning to the grounded warmth of his earlier writing. It is easy to imagine the whole album as a focused listening experience for a cannabis journey or even in sober reflection. For deeper psychedelic work, it becomes a more specialized resource, with certain tracks serving as powerful companions and others best reserved for listeners seeking the avant-garde edges of the journey.
Why Time Indefinite works for journeys
Time Indefinite is emotionally honest and willing to be unsettling. That quality can mirror journeys that explore grief, fear, or the surreal edges of consciousness. The record balances lulling and rolling low-end bass, mid-range guitar, and the shimmer of tape hiss, creating a full-spectrum field that can be felt in the body, especially with a subwoofer or good headphones.
Where some ambient music hovers in the mid- to high range, Tyler leans into deep, bassy rumbles, warped loops, and layered drones. Many tracks feel like they are telling stories. This density gives the psyche something to chew on and can evoke strong internal imagery or narrative scenes in the imaginal realm. For neurodivergent listeners who enjoy complex sensory input and layered sound design, this can feel like an intricate, multisensory map. For others, it may be too much, which is why careful placement and consent are essential.
The album also contains islands of accessibility. Pieces like “Concern,” “Howling at the Second Moon,” “Anima Hotel,” and “Held” return to the melodic guitar writing that longtime listeners might expect. These tracks feel grounded, nostalgic, or gently uplifting, and they work well as bridges or anchors between more challenging material.
On the Apollonian–Dionysian spectrum of music for psychedelic work, Time Indefinite moves freely. Some tracks are structured and steady, while others are raw, noisy, and emotionally charged. When used with intention, this contrast can support processes that first stir or confront, then soothe and welcome back.
Playlist placement:
Below are my reflections on how each piece from Time Indefinite aligns with the Copenhagen Music Program (CMP) and Grof’s Basic Perinatal Matrices (BPM) frameworks. The CMP follows an Ascent → Peak → Descent → Landing flow, mirroring the natural rhythm of a psychedelic experience. BPM is a map for emotional and physiological states, from the safety and openness of BPM I through the challenges and breakthroughs of BPM II–III, to the grounded renewal of BPM IV.
[see previous article on CMP and BPMs]
“Cabin Six” (Track: 1)
How it feels
The album opens with a jolt. “Cabin Six” starts like the beginning of an industrial or noise record: phasing tape sounds, heavy low-end swells, and what sounds like distant screams or metallic scraping. It feels like the score to an indie horror film, with train-like rumbles and machinery that gradually dissolve into a long, spacious section. Near the end, a minimal, ghostly guitar appears, still a little creepy, as if the melody is drifting in through the wall from another room. At around eight minutes, the track takes you through several distinct emotional vignettes in a single pass.
CMP / BPM placement
CMP: Peak – Challenging / Transformation
Grof BPM: BPM II → III (from engulfment and pressure into struggle and movement)
Suggested use: A strong candidate for the peak phase for experienced psychonauts who want to work with darker, more stirring material. The rolling bass can resonate through the body and may be ideal when someone explicitly intends to engage with fear, tension, or shadow themes. Follow it with a gentler, more Apollonian track to offer a clear route back toward safety.
“Concern” (2)
How it feels
“Concern” arrives as a deep soothing breath after the opener. It begins as a beautiful acoustic guitar piece that sounds much more like Tyler’s earlier albums: melodic, warm, and quietly nostalgic. Over time, a drone builds behind the guitar, along with hints of tape decay. Midway through, the guitar fades, and the focus shifts to a warbling tape loop and a lulling drone. Listening feels like watching a film where the camera slowly pulls back from a character into a more abstract, dreamlike scene.
CMP / BPM placement
CMP: Late Ascent or Post-Peak Release
Grof BPM: BPM II → III (emergence of feeling and movement toward expression)
Suggested use: Works well in the post-peak phase when emotion is softening and integrating, or even mid-peak for those who prefer evocative guitar. It invites emotional curiosity without overwhelming, and the evolving structure keeps attention gently engaged.
“Star of Hope” (3)
How it feels
“Star of Hope” opens with decaying organ tones and a haze of delay and tape warble. Ghostly vocals drift in, sounding like an old church choir heard through a fogged-over stained-glass window. The melody feels uncannily familiar, echoing traditional tunes like “Home on the Range,” “Auld Lang Syne,” or even “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” without actually becoming any of them. That familiarity can tug at memory and sentiment, and it can also be a little distracting as the mind tries to place the tune. It feels like a time capsule that pulls the listener back toward the 1800s while remaining modern experimental.
CMP / BPM placement
CMP: Peak – Explorative / Thematic
Grof BPM: BPM II → III (nostalgic yet unsettled, touching early layers of memory and identity)
Suggested use: Potentially potent for journeys focused on memory, time, or ancestral themes. For some, this track may feel sentimental and deeply evocative; for others, the urge to “figure out” the tune could be frustrating. I would reserve it for clients who enjoy this kind of liminal listening.
“Howling at the Second Moon” (4)
How it feels
This is the first shorter track on the album and one of the most straightforward. It is built around intricate, steady acoustic guitar picking, without the spooky noises or heavy tape treatment of earlier pieces. It feels grounded, earthy, and closer to older Tyler releases. There is motion here and a sense of walking, yet it stays clear and approachable.
CMP / BPM placement
CMP: Ascent – Opening / Activation, or early Descent
Grof BPM: BPM I → II or gentle BPM IV (safe movement with a hint of forward pull)
Suggested use: A solid choice for come-up or come-down phases, especially for listeners who need something familiar (acoustic guitar) and stable after more experimental tracks. It can help the body settle into a rhythm or begin to reorient toward ordinary reality.
“A Dream, A Flood” (5)
How it feels
At about three minutes, “A Dream, A Flood” drops back into more unsettling territory. A wild loop that at first sounds like bells and evolves to something like a motorcycle revving up in a loop, joined by knocks and industrial textures. For me, it felt like listening to a horror film. The track brought back associations with avant-garde industrial artists like Coil and left me feeling a little creeped out, which was fun for me to do in a safe setting.
CMP / BPM placement
CMP: Peak – Challenging / Disruptive
Grof BPM: BPM II (pressure, claustrophobia, and strange mechanical imagery)
Suggested use: I would generally leave this off journey playlists unless someone is well prepared to work with very challenging material. It might be more appropriate for surreal, contemplative cannabis sessions or for walking in the world when you want to tilt perception toward the uncanny.
“Anima Hotel” (6)
How it feels
“Anima Hotel” returns to acoustic guitar and feels like a homecoming. The picking pattern is repetitive in a soothing way, with a gentle drone swell underneath. The overall effect is lulling and slightly uplifting, like being rocked on slow waves in a safe vessel. As the track develops, the underlying drone grows more present, creating a sense of transition without sharp edges. This is one of the pieces I would most readily share with a general audience.
CMP / BPM placement
CMP: Ascent – Activation → Early Peak
Grof BPM: BPM I → II (from safety and openness into gentle forward motion)
Suggested use: Ideal near the end of the come-up phase, as the journey leans toward the peak phase. It offers a sense of movement and swelling energy while still feeling kind, which can support clients who like to feel activity building without sudden intensity.
“Electric Lake” (7)
How it feels
“Electric Lake” seems to pick up the emotional swell from “Anima Hotel,” then steers it into stranger waters. The track builds and then tilts toward the sinister, with weird whispering voices phasing around the listener and eerie wind-like sounds at the end. It is very cool and cinematic, a place where the landscape has shifted from familiar countryside into something more uncanny.
CMP / BPM placement
CMP: Peak – Explorative / Challenging
Grof BPM: BPM II → III (entering and working within charged, possibly confrontational material)
Suggested use: I would reserve this for adventurous, experienced journeyers who explicitly enjoy experimental textures and disembodied voices. For many people, it may be better suited to sober listening, where its strange atmosphere can make the world feel more surreal without the added intensity of a psychedelic.
“The Hardest Land to Harvest” (second to last track)
How it feels
This roughly eight-minute piece returns to a very cinematic sound world. It unfolds like narrative musique concrète, with shifting textures that feel like scenes in a story rather than a conventional song. Listening on headphones while moving through the world can make ordinary surroundings feel deeply strange and heightened, as if you have stepped into a parallel version of your life. It has weight and complexity that seem better suited to experienced ears.
CMP / BPM placement
CMP: Peak – Transformation / Deep Exploration
Grof BPM: BPM III (struggle, confrontation, and movement toward breakthrough)
Suggested use: Best kept for advanced psychonauts who are comfortable entering dense, experimental soundscapes and working with non-linear inner narratives. It might also be an excellent track for non-ordinary yet non-psychedelic states, such as long contemplative walks or creative practice.
“Held” (last track)
How it feels
By the time “Held” begins, the big question is how the album will land after so much intensity. The answer is a slow arrival into tranquility. A deep, thumping bass pulse comes in, felt as much in the heart as in the ears, supported by a steady drone. Eventually, the acoustic guitar returns, weaving a simple, comforting melody over the pulsing bed. True to its title, the track feels like being cradled by the music after having been stretched and unsettled by some of the earlier tracks. It is a sweet and satisfying way to close the record.
CMP / BPM placement
CMP: Descent – Integration → Return – Landing
Grof BPM: BPM III → IV (from renewed movement into release and rebirth)
Suggested use: An excellent late-journey track, especially after more challenging material. “Held” can support the shift from intense inner work into a feeling of safety and reconnection, making it a strong candidate for the last third of a playlist, when the nervous system is recalibrating, and the heart is opening back out.
Closing take
Time Indefinite feels like a bold turning point in William Tyler’s catalog, a record where confidence in his core strengths allows him to venture far into experimental territory. It is haunted, cinematic, and sometimes genuinely unsettling, then suddenly tender and familiar when the guitar steps forward again.
For psychedelic work, the album is less an all-phases companion and more a source of specialized tools for curated playlists. Tracks like “Cabin Six,” “Concern,” “Howling at the Second Moon,” “Anima Hotel,” and “Held” can anchor or transform key moments in a journey, while pieces such as “A Dream, A Flood,” “Electric Lake,” and “The Hardest Land to Harvest” belong in the more advanced, carefully framed end of the spectrum.
For neurodivergent listeners with a taste for experimental sound, Time Indefinite can serve as a map of uncanny emotional landscapes, a mirror for the strangeness of being alive in uncertain times. It is an album worth sitting with, returning to, and hearing in different states, even if some of its rooms are ones you only visit occasionally.
Looking ahead
This review continues the Journey Music series exploring how sound shapes inner worlds. Weeds offered patience and breath. Veriditas traced tenderness and motion. Time Indefinite opened a door into more haunted and cinematic terrain, expanding the emotional vocabulary available for psychedelic work.
Next, I’ll turn to Nevertheless by Hammock, an album that moves in a very different direction. Where Tyler leans into unease and ghost-lit experimentation, Hammock works with grief, resilience, and the slow return of light. Their blend of ambient guitar swells, post-rock crescendos, and neoclassical stillness creates emotional architecture that many listeners may find both accessible and expansive.