Andrew Heath - Europa

Disco Gecko: 2016

Y'know, I do like Andrew Heath's vibe, but even four albums worth of his minimalist ambient feels a bit overkill for my music collection. Just how many times can I take hearing his sparse piano tones, treated field recordings, and ephemeral synth harmonics before it all it starts blending into the same sonic soup. It's not really a style of songcraft that lends itself to radical experimentation. While there are different ideas and settings he can approach his compositions from, his basic texture hasn't changed that much in the four years he's released material on Banco de Gaia's label. Perhaps that's why hearing his most recent album, Soundings, open with that clickity-clack of typewriter typing was so effective at grabbing my attention – it was a sound astoundingly unique in Mr. Heath's overall sonic palette. Either that, or I find something intimately relating in hearing the sporadic striking of a querty keyboard.

Still, Europa should satisfy at least another innate tug at my soul, wanderlust. No, I mean actual wanderlust, not Wanderlust, the Andrew Heath piece with the typewriter sounds (I can't get over it!). After his first couple albums most dealt with the idyllic, pastoral vistas of the British countryside, Heath set his ears to the recalled sounds of mainland Europe, reflecting the areas he'd travelled while touring throughout old lands of Empires long passed. It definitely lends itself to a different vibe compared to The Silent Cartographer and Flux.

Andrew's music has always had a sense of journey about it, though seldom with any particular destination in mind – you can imagine slowly floating down a small creek in a tiny village as his music plays. Europa, on the other hand, has far more territory to traverse, so that same languid pace isn't quite so prominent. For sure the pieces crafted here remain as calm and soothing as anything Mr. Heath's crafted – he's quite comfortable in his lane – but in trying to capture the sprit of the different regions of his travels, it doesn't feel like we're completely taking in all that each setting offers. Some local folk music flavours in Lunz, sight-seeing unique fowl fauna in Requiem, partaking in the pleasant child activities in The Summer Boys, checking out the historical cultural achievements in Sputnik | Little Earth. So much to see, so little time to see it all in (approximately 74-80 minutes, plus another twenty if you sprung for the extra-deluxe bonus tour, er, tracks).

Which is par for the course when it comes to tourist vacations, always in a hurry to get to your next destination, being herded like cattle onto buses or monorails before the deadline, and ooh wait, there's just one extra thing I want to see, no, don't leave me behind, I don't have enough local currency for a hostel stay, wait! Er, not that I've ever had to deal with such inconveniences when sight-seeing abroad. I've heard stories though. Oh, have I heard stories.

Andrew Heath - Soundings

Disco Gecko: 2017

I've been neglectful of Andrew Heath. It's not like he's been absent, releasing music at a yearly clip, but it's been a few albums since I last talked him up. Thing is, though I generally like his minimalist ambient works, it's also something that's reliably just there, not terribly fussed about getting attention. I can go back to it whenever I feel, comfortable that it'll sound exactly how I expect it will, and that'll be that. Seeing as how it's been two years (!) since I last reviewed one of Mr. Heath's records, it stands to reason my attention's been diverted elsewhere in the meanwhile. Absolutely so, labels like ...txt, Dronarivm, Cryo Chamber, and, er, Psychonavigation having lured my ambient explorations away from Disco Gecko in that time. Well, better get caught up on ol' Andrew then, starting with his most recent offering, Soundings.

One thing Mr. Heath has started putting more focus on is his use of field recordings, making them the guiding backbone of his compositions rather than sonic texturing. That is no more prominently displayed than with the opening track Wanderlust, where the good ol' clackity-clack of a typewriter greets us. More often than not, when I hear an album open with a typewriter, I expect the person at the machine to proclaim he's taking his work back underground (to keep it from falling into the wrong hands), but I suspect Andrew's manifesto isn't so renegade. Instead, this piece features distant footsteps, crackling static, soft synthy timbres, and those distinct, sparse piano tones that will always bring the Harold Budd comparisons, though Heath's use of them goes into abstraction. Halfway through the fourteen-minute piece, acoustic guitar plucks and muted dialog take the lead, though the typewriter/piano combo does return for the final leg. If Wanderlust was about capturing the feeling of one's mind drifting while trying to get proper-work done, it certainly does that. You've no idea how many times I got distracted even writing this paragraph!

For as much Andrew made in the liner notes about his field recordings being his primary source of inspiration, from which he crafted his music around, I don't get that sense from the rest of Soundings. For sure there's more throughout, the usual assortment of open areas, intimate settings, and the like, but nothing quite so significant as the typewriter of Wanderlust. Rather, he's given more time and space for the guest musicians to do their things. This includes clarinet from Bill Howgego in A Break In The Clouds, cello from Stéphane Marlot in Days In-Between, and the usual instrumental accompaniments from Anne Chris Bakker, whom Heath's been working with for some time now. They're all fine pieces, though does edge the music closer into modern classical's domain than ambient.

And in the end, I still found myself more enthralled by Andrew's 'traditional' songs, such as the Bandcamp bonus of The Painted Surface, something of a sober reflection of Wanderlust. Navigating art halls never felt so isolating.

Andrew Heath - Flux

Disco Gecko: 2015

Never thought I'd become an Andrew Heath fan. I was curious enough to check out his first album on Disco Gecko, if only to find out why Toby Marks would have tapped the ambient composer as the first outside artist on his label. Yet while The Silent Cartographer was a pleasant little trip through minimalist piano diddling, it wasn't the sort of music I saw myself exploring any further. There's only so much ambient I can take in, and my flag leans more towards the padded synths and dubby atmospherics than indulging the nuances of tonal harmony. Besides, I’m already hearting a Heath, and that dark, brooding Simon chap might be the jealous sort.

Then a super-mega 20th Anniversary Last Train To Lhasa bundle came out. I’ll get to details about that release at the appropriate time, but one of the surprising highlights from the package was Andrew Heath’s remix of China. It took an already mellow slice of ambient dub and led it down his minimalist tonal harmony path. For a song set in a region where such music has been practiced in perfected for ages, it makes so much blissful sense that I get the super Zen feels from it. This, mind you, from a guy who’s only remix credit is this one track! What makes it such a standout, however, is again just how different Andrew Heath’s style is compared to the remixers surrounding him, music that brings to mind art displays or quiet times in a Japanese rock garden, not groovy nights outdoors surrounded by ravers and hippies.

That was enough to keep an eye out for anything else Heath might release, and wouldn’t you know it, he’s got a fresh LP barely a year after his last, Flux. The liner notes states this music was inspired by time spent gazing at lights in the northern latitudes of his homeland Cotswolds, England. That description alone already marks this album as something quite ‘British in the meadowlands’, though you’d have to ask a resident of the realm whether that’s apt.

Flux is music almost as an abstraction, ample uses of field recordings, harmonic bell tones, and soft ethereal pads making up the bulk. Mr. Heath does let his lingering piano notes guide things along, and occasional synthy woodwinds pop in and out, but they’re far from a driving force in these tracks. Really, there’s not much drive at all, each piece content to remain relatively static for their duration (around an average of eight to ten minutes in length). It barely even sounds like compositions end or begin, as though you’re lazily floating down a creek through pastoral villages and windmill hovels. A couple pure piano pieces do break up the mood (The Darkening, Fragment on the digital version), and Ghost Box has a discordant thing going for it, but for the most part, Flux is an ambient album best served for the stillest of activities. Find a patio and watch clouds for an hour, or something.

Andrew Heath - The Silent Cartographer

Disco Gecko: 2014

In one of the great cosmic coincidences within my music collection, CDs from Simon Heath is followed upon by a CD by Andrew Heath in my alphabetical organization of album titles. I don't think they’re related. Even more coincidentally though, they both produce ambient music. Okay, given the amount of ambient I have, it's not that great a coincidence.

Plus, they're at complete opposite ends of the ambient spectrum. S. Heath makes dark, brooding ambient as Atrium Carceri and Sabled Sun, while A. Heath makes calm, meditative ambient as, um, Andrew Heath. Also, the former has quite a few releases to his various aliases, whereas the latter has very little. Lord Discogs claims Andrew floated about in ambient obscurity with Felix Jay as Aqueous, releasing a few albums in the '90s before all musical records of him disappear until very recently. Somewhere along the way, Toby Marks got wind of his music, and signed him to his Disco Gecko label. And now you know why I'm reviewing The Silent Cartographer in the here and now. Like, if Banco de Gaia reps the chap, there's gotta' be some dope transmissions coming in from Mr. Heath (no, not signals).

After taking in this album though, I'm left puzzled by the Banco bump. The Silent Cartographer is ambient at its most traditionalist, with soothing synth tones, delicate piano touches, and occasional soft percussion. The opening titular cut, running at thirteen minutes in length, harkens back to some of Pete Namlook and Dr. Atmo’s work as Silence, lazily idling along with soft pads ebbing and flowing while various field recordings come and go. There are birds chirping, water running, boats creaking, and… repair work near the end? It’s all very relaxing though, perfect meditation music if that’s your sort of thing.

And so is the rest of the album, little variation in terms of mood and tone. The Twilight World uses pad synths with more prominence as it develops, Shoreline (Found Object) has a pleasant planetarium vibe going for it, Still Point works in a little vinyl crackle for extra warmth, and The Poet’s Dream feels ‘old-school’ with some vintage synth sounds used. For the most part though, these ten minutes pieces are led by piano, and here’s where I make the inevitable Harold Budd comparison. What, were you expecting a Hybrid Leisureland one instead? Can’t be helped, Mr. Budd casting a long shadow in the ‘piano ambient’ scene. The shorter Paper Boat sounds like something right out of his work with Brian Eno in The Pearl. Say, maybe that’s why I picked up The Silent Cartographer, figuring this album would represent the historical drama I keep believing The Pearl is based upon.

Mm, no, it’s definitely because of the Banco bump. You’d think a guy known for ethnic-fusion beats would curate artists of similar ilk to his label, but maybe Toby Marks has long had an unrealized soft spot for art house ambient too. Don’t expect Mr. Heath at a Megadog reunion though.