Peixoto's only feature drifts through fragments of memory and shoreline as if the camera itself were a foreign instrument learning Portuguese. Its refusal of narrative coordinates parallels Hassell's refusal of a fixed musical homeland.

Dreyer photographs through gauze to dissolve the boundary between the living and the dead, producing a film that occupies an in-between zone neither folkloric nor modern. This liminality—a fourth realm—mirrors Hassell's project of staging music in a space between documentary and dream.

Potter's miniseries layers noir fantasy, wartime memory, and present-day hospital realism into a single hallucinated geography sung through pre-war pop standards. The work's idea that music can stitch incompatible worlds together is precisely Hassell's thesis.

Lynch and Frost extend their Pacific Northwest mythos into a metaphysics where electricity, sound, and place are interchangeable currencies, with Angelo Badalamenti's drones functioning as portals. The series treats sonic atmosphere as a kind of fourth world that the characters can physically enter.

Chamoiseau's shantytown epic braids Creole oral memory with French literary modernism into a hybrid tongue that belongs to no single nation. The novel performs in language what Hassell performs in sound: a creolization that invents its own homeland.

Okri's spirit-child Azaro walks through a Lagos thickened with parallel realms, where the marketplace and the bush spirit world share the same coordinates. The novel's cosmology of overlapping geographies echoes Hassell's idea of music as a place coexisting with our own.

Takada constructs ceremonial percussion landscapes that gesture toward Indonesian gamelan and African polyrhythm without quoting either, building a private liturgy from marimba and gongs. The album shares Hassell's instinct for treating instruments as if they had been excavated from a civilization that never existed.

Jaar grafts Andean folk fragments onto subterranean electronics, producing a record that sounds simultaneously ancestral and post-national. Like Hassell, he treats geography as a frequency to be tuned rather than a territory to be mapped.

Each episode follows Ginko through a pre-modern landscape inhabited by mushi—organisms that exist between matter and spirit—rendered through ambient sound design and watercolor stillness. The series shares Hassell's interest in entities that occupy the threshold between the documented and the imagined.

Yuasa renders Kyoto as a recursive city of parallel student lives, each iteration revealing a different possible self in the same coordinates. The premise of nested possible worlds resonates with Hassell's title—a vol. 1 of musics that could have been.