Boards Of Canada - Tomorrow's Harvest

Warp Records: 2013

Probably the most Boards Of Canada sounding album that Boards Of Canada have released. “But wait,” you cry after flipping your TV dinner tray and knocking over a lamp with that flowery canopy and tassels hanging like a droopy hippie, “how can that be? Music Has The Right To Children is their best album for all eternity!” Hey, I ain’t taking that away, though I’m certain a number of folks figure The Campfire Headphase a better album than Musical Children. Hell, there’s probably a few odd sorts that rank Geogaddi’s ultra-cryptic nonsense concept as Most Essential Boards. Almost nowhere does Tomorrow’s Harvest enter this discussion, though its relative newness hasn’t afforded it much gestation time compared to most BoC.

Thing about the Big Three of Boards Of Canada’s discography is they each had their own, distinct sound. For sure there’s the BoC sonic markers you’ll hear in every one of their records (trip-hop beats, analog synth tones, ‘70s fuzz), but one can still instantly tell which album’s playing: Musical Children has the nostalgic playful innocence, Geogaddi the harsh experimentation, and Campfire Headphase the acoustic shoegaze pieces. Tomorrow’s Harvest has no such signifiers of instant identification; in fact, one could claim its lack of a recognizable theme is this album’s primary theme, but that’s rather stupid. Misters Sandison and Eoin most definitely had a theme in mind for this album, one that still paid homage to the ‘70s sounds they grew up listening to. For having relived the children’s documentaries and trips out to the countryside, Boards Of Canada felt time to grow up and explore the desolate futures so many sci-fi films of the era dealt with. Cold War babies didn’t have much hope for our present times, did they?

The start of Tomorrow’s Harvest certainly sells this premise, opener Gemini and third track White Cyclosa the sort of music a Berlin School composer might write for such a film. Lodged between them, Reach For The Dead brings in the Boards’ style of crackly beatcraft and warm synth timbre while adding wide-screen grandeur to their palette, a more cinematic approach to their vintage style. And that’s essentially the bulk of music you’ll find on Tomorrow’s Harvest, tunes less concerned with hauntology than presenting a narrative fitting its theme. There are a few scattered ambient doodles (Uritual, Telepath, Transmisiones Ferox, Collapse), and a couple ‘childhood recollection’ pieces poke their heads out (Nothing Is Real, Cold Earth). For the most part though, Tomorrow’s Harvest sounds like Boards Of Canada stripped down to their raw essence, their music as stark as the barren futurescape that encapsulates their would-be film.

Many who spent years dissecting their other albums were flustered with Tomorrow’s Harvest, unsure what to make of such a modest concept LP. The long gap between albums didn’t help matters, fans filled with much hype and thrill for BoC’s return. Yet it’s almost forgotten now, seldom talked up as folks keep referring back to older records. Guess some remain fixed in the past.

The Brian Jonestown Massacre - Strung Out In Heaven

TVT Records: 1998

I’ve hit saturation point of how much alternative music I can handle. What a petty complaint. It’s not like I’m digging into the truly obscure recesses of the indie realms, most names cropping up well-known, respected talent with deserved critical and commercial success. Plus I’ve spent these past two months keeping a toe or two in electronic genres I’m familiar with, all the while exploring the darker regions of a specific sub-genre. Yet here I am, face to ear with another indie rock band I know nothing about, hearing tunes that are all fine and dandy Worhals, but my mind sub-consciously keeps turning it to mush. It’s as though the previous fifty releases I’ve reviewed are a smorgasbord of music, filled with entrees I’m familiar with but several I’ve never actually sampled. And darn it, I’ve paid for the All You Can Eat option, so I’m gonna’ sample everything in this spread. But man, am I ever feeling stuffed finally getting to those last few dishes.

Anyhow, The Brian Jonestown Massacre. This is a band headlined by one Anton Newcombe, the sort of eccentric musician I’m sure many music scribes have described as ‘authentic’ or ‘audacious’, fearing few paths with his sonic adventures. Starting out as a ‘shoegaze’ group, the San Fran band shows no shame in their love of psychedelic rock, and curse their luck getting their start in the ‘90s. No, wait, that's when starry-eyed gazes back to the decade of Dylan, Beatles, Byrds, and Stones kicked in, to say nothing of movie soundtracks revitalizing ‘70s music for a younger generation. This was the perfect time for The Brian Jonestown Massacre’s brand of rock to flourish!

TVT Records certainly thought so, signing the band to a fat, multi-album contract after their underground cred starting bubbling over. The result is Strung Out In Heaven, an album that sounds like an HD remaster of ‘60s folk rock. Apparently band member Matt Hollywood wrote more of the songs in this outing, what with Anton getting too deep in that heroin lifestyle. Silly Anton, you save that drug for the ‘70s throwbacks – ‘60s was all on that acid trip, yo’.

Listening to this album, I feel like it was intended as a soundtrack for an epic Americana indie film, another celluloid attempt at On The Road where the only bad choice the protagonist makes is going home. Seems TVT Records felt the same way, the packaging straight out of some ‘60s pulp cinema, the band members listed on the cover like stars of the film. There’s plenty of dreamy melodies, groovy Hammond organs, folksy strumming, and stoned singing, a total love-letter to times past as envisioned by musicians far removed from the era. Too much of an ode, turns out, Strung Out In Heaven failing to sell anywhere near TVT’s expectations. Realizing the band was a bit too ‘out there’ for the major independent print, Brain Jonestown Massacre mutually split from TVT, and they went back to making weirdo music again.

PJ Harvey - Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea

Island Records: 2000

The only PJ Harvey album you probably have, if you decided it was about time to take a listen-in on the indie-darling lady rocker. She even admits Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea is her stab at a pop-leaning record, though obviously said with tongue firmly in cheek. It generated the most sales abroad of any album in her career, yet is her lowest charted LP in her native UK. Yes, not even the sweet selling point of a couple Thom Yorke collaborations was enough to convince the indie British this wasn’t a blatant sell-out. Wait, the mellow To Bring You My Love didn’t do the trick? The ‘electronica’ Is This Desire? wasn’t proof Ms. Harvey had no problem jumping on trends? So fickle, these UK music lovers. She couldn’t scream that raw, angst rock of her early work forever, y’know. People grow up, mature, experiment, try different things, explore their latent abilities, aim for the light after spending time in the ditch, and all that.

Full disclosure: I’m among the rear tier of folks who should talk up PJ Harvey’s career. Of course I know about the singer-songwriter out of Yeovil (such a cool name, that!), her influence as a trailblazer for aggressive women of ‘90s rock. I’m sure a few of her tunes or guest appearances have crossed my ears over the years, and anyone that namedrops Neil F’n Young as an inspiration is a-ok in my books. Even glancing over her discography, it’s clear she follows a similar ‘give no fucks’ approach in following her muse wherever it may lead. And fortunately, her catalog doesn’t seem nearly as daunting as other eclectic sorts if one is so tempted to dive full-in. I just doubt I’ll be doing so anytime soon, if at all. Maybe if this ‘electronic music’ thing ever wears itself completely out on my ears. ‘Riot grrl’ rock might be a fun dalliance when I’m sixty-four.

As mentioned, Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea is ol’ Polly’s bestselling album, and has also earned her plenty of accolades as well. Playing it through, it’s easy to hear why, the music smooth and polished, many tunes sounding custom made for most rock radio stations. Yet there’s always something just a little more interesting going on beyond your stock FM filler. Catchy choruses contain clever lyrics, Harvey showing range in her singing voice as each song necessitates (angrier here, playful there, moody elsewhere). There’s quite a range of rock as well, some coming off as standards (Good Fortune, Big Exit, This Is Love), others showing a little sound experimentation (the neat dub overlays of The Whores Hustle And The Hustlers Whore), or going all-out ‘80s (Kamikaze). Other tunes show her acoustic side, and final track We Float has a dreamy indie pop thing going for it. Sounds like a Radiohead tune, if I’m honest, and is thus surprising it's not one of those Thom Yorke collaborations. Fine by me.

Bedouin Soundclash - Sounding A Mosaic

SideOneDummy Records: 2004

Yet another CD of which I knew nothing going in to. With a name of Bedouin Soundclash though, plus song titles like Gyasi Went Home, Music My Rock, Rude Boy Don’t Cry, and Immigrant Workforce, odds were ninety-seven percent I was dealing with reggae music of some form. And with the opening, jaunty refrains of When The Night Feels My Song confirming my assumption, I sat back to vibe on an album of sunny jimmy-jams. Yet as Sounding A Mosaic played out, something felt just a tad off. With a sparse arrangement consisting of little more than bass, guitar, and drums, it was clear Bedouin Soundclash wasn’t a traditional full-ensemble reggae band. More so, there was an undeniable ‘coddiness’ about these tunes. The music, the cadence, and the groove of vintage reggae were all there; but, y’know, kinda’ white at the same time.

Turns out Bedouin Soundclash hails from Kingston… Ontario. At this stage of the band’s career, it consisted of drummer Pat Pengelly, bassist Eon Sinclair, and singer-guitarist Jay Malinowski. Yeah, Malinowski’s about as white a name you can get, so my assumption wasn’t off-base. By no means does this detract from what this band does – plenty of great reggae music’s been made by folks that have little-to-no ancestry from the Isle Of Jamaican. There’s The Police, and… uh… all those dub reggae guys I go on about. And… um… Pst, former college kids who wore dreadlocks, help me out here.

I joke and kid, of course, Bedouin Soundclash having a decent amount of success to their name. Starting out in the ancient times of the year 2001 (look, its ancient now, deal with it), they self released their debut Root Fire to little fanfare. A couple years later they came out with this album, Sounding A Mosaic, which did substantially better, thanks to the strength of lead single When The Night Feels My Song. The tune landed them a Top 5 hit on the Canadian charts, and inexplicably a spot on the UK charts – then again, them British do love ‘em some ‘cod’. This momentum was enough to generate Platinum-level sales for the album in Canada, and while their follow-up album Street Gospels didn’t sell quite a well, it still peaked at number two on our music charts, and good enough for a Top 5 spot on the US Reggae charts. And having now learned of all their success, I feel kind of dumb for never hearing of Bedouin Soundclash before. Did I just not care about reggae a decade ago?

Not particularly, no, especially of this sort. There’s plenty tunes on here that are perfectly fine pieces of three-man reggae, though obviously nothing of the caliber I got from The Police. It’s the sort of music that’s fun to check out at a summer festival, preferably at a 2pm slot when you’re feeling nicely toasted. Aside from a couple remixes at the end though, Sounding A Mosaic is about as conventional as this music gets.

Sabled Sun - Signals IV-V-VI

Cryo Chamber: 2015

Now wait just a darn minute! Didn’t I miss my chance on this triple-disc collection, that when I stopped over at the label’s Bandcamp, the site claimed they were sold out? Indeed they had, and I rested easy in accepting that star-cruiser having sailed, missing on owning another chapter in the Sabled Sun saga. It’s not like I couldn’t hear any of these hour-long drone pieces through a streaming service. And besides, the Signals pieces aren’t even part of the main narrative Simon Heath’s crafted with the project; rather like side-stories, or appendices, or bonus features, or- no, wait, all this cinematic dark ambient isn’t literal cinema on DVD.

In a move I hadn’t counted on, Cryo Chamber replenish their stock, including another round of Signals IV-V-VI. This shouldn’t come as that big a deal, but considering so many online prints have very limited runs of their physical releases, you’d forgive me for thinking this label would be the same. It actually stuns me that dub techno labels are so comparatively skint, what with how much critical love they receive from all the Very Important electronic music rags. I always figured dark ambient a super-niche scene, but I suppose there’s some crossover from the underground metal ranks, and that’s anything but small, believe you me.

From the outset its clear Mr. Heath was aiming for a different take in this second trilogy of Signals. The first three were quite distinct from one another, but the stark, dead-in-space artwork helped maintain a linking connection within the concept. This next bundle offers something sunnier; in fact about a billion times so. Are we dealing with the same planet, because that’s an astounding number of stars featured in the cover art compared to the previous set of Signals. Looks like we’re hovering somewhere near a globular cluster rather than some outflung back-spur of the galaxy. I wonder if this is a region those signals from the first three were directed. Was that even the impression I was meant to get from those hour-long compositions? Drone can be so very vague at times. Right, most times.

On the surface, there isn’t much difference between Signals IV, V, and VI. All three feature similar atonal space drone dominating nearly every audible wavelength you can imagine, but in a way that’s not crushing on your senses. Signals IV has a fuzzy run of static throughout, eventually joined by intermittent chirping frequencies piercing the empty void. Signals V has more of a journey going for it, the droning tones occasionally receding as though the cosmos is inhaling before carrying on its never-ending symphony of non-sound. It even changes in timbre during its course, and if you listen carefully enough, one can hear the distinct whine of radio transmissions desperately trying to be heard. Signals VI is just unrelenting suffocating drone for its full hour, barely a change in- wait, what was that signal at the tail end? No, wait, come back! Oh dear, we’ve lost it…

Live - Secret Samadhi

Radioactive: 1997

Oh my God, I’m actually starting to like Live. Now I feel bad for every lame, clichéd punch-line I’ve ever delivered in their direction. You know how they typically go: “that band that everyone loved but can’t remember any reason why”; or “you know you’re from the ‘90s if you have Throwing Copper among your CDs”; or “oh yeah, Live, they had that big hit December, right? Or was that Push?” (sorry, Canadian joke). Maybe it’s because I never realized they shared so many similarities to national treasures The Tragically Hip, though it’s not like I delved deeply into their discography either. And even when I took on Throwing Copper, it essentially confirmed what I always felt Live was: a solid enough alternative rock band, fully deserving of their success but not one I thought capable of exceeding that commercial peak.

And Secret Samadhi oblitera- no, not quite; forced a reassessment of my initial assumptions, yes let’s go with that. I figured Live’s third album would carry on from Throwing Copper, the band daring not to mess with the sure thing they’d generated for themselves. I’m sure tons of folks figured that too, the record hitting top of the Billboard before being unceremoniously knocked out a week after by the Howard Stern movie soundtrack. Perhaps it couldn’t be helped, their breakout record one of the slowest burners the world of rock had ever seen. Whatever enthusiasm folks had for Live in those glorious mid-‘90s times would have waned as other new hotness emerged. But hey, Secret Samadhi did knock No Doubt’s Tragic Kingdom from its long perch atop Canadian charts, so good on that.

Generally speaking, Secret Samadhi is more of the same Live stylee, but evolving just enough for a stronger outing than before. Yes, I feel this record is better than Throwing Copper, delving into ‘post-grunge’ form without getting too slick about it, nicely selling a ‘bar band with a budget’ vibe. Sure, there’s an orchestra backing a couple tracks, and they have plenty studio polish at their disposal, but nothing is overdone or varnished into blandness as so much mega-selling rock of the ‘90s goes. Despite their continued stadium success abroad, I could totally see Live playing live at the local dive bar. No, that’s a good thing! Though I don’t actively seek it out, I’m still a sucker for bluesy, alternative rock, where tales of common folk struggles are told with not a hint of preaching or sanctimonious condemnation. Even with Kowlaczyk interjecting headier concepts of spiritualism and mysticism this time out, Live still remain grounded in how they present themselves. For a chap that will likely never lose his small town sensibility (I keep trying!), this remains most appealing.

While I’m almost certain this ends my forays into Live’s discography, I must admit coming away from both Throwing Copper and Secret Samadhi more appreciative of the band than I ever thought possible. And will someone help out their Wiki pages? Dear God, it’s disgraceful.

Jonny L - Sawtooth

XL Recordings: 1997

Some days, you just need that drum’n’bass hit. Seeing the multitude of memes declaring this biological fact as gospel, I know I’m not alone in this sentiment, though my cravings don’t run as deep as some junglists go. However, it’s enough that every so often I must pick up some proper rudeness for my brain’s rhythm centers, a prospect that’s not as easy as it once t’was. For sure it’s simple enough finding any ol’ DJ set or label rinseout online, but I gotta’ sate that collector’s itch too, and finding good d’n’b albums is always a tricky proposition, especially when one wanders back to the ‘90s for their fix. Some are too damn obvious (Goldie, Roni Size) or too damn expensive (Logical Progression), but with a little digging, something unexpected can surface.

Not that Jonny L is an unknown entity, but I never pegged him an album guy. Like most d’n’b producers, he made his living on the singles market, signing early to XL Recordings way back when he was still making rave hardcore. As with many, he moved into jungle’s domain, navigating the scene’s numerous splintering roads with remarkable ease. There’s an atmospheric style out there now? Here’s a pair of future classics in Tychonic Cycle and I Let U then. And that emergent tech-step vibe one Grooverider was champion-sounding? Jonny L became one of the genre’s leaders, tracks like Piper, S4, and Wish U Had Something among the earliest anthems spit out. His style was something of a bridge between the darkcore ruffness of the older days, and the precision production of Photek’s work, leading to tracks that hit in hard bursts as different drum patterns rotated in and out. Also, heavy sci-fi influences, dragging the junglists out of the grimy London warehouses and into, um, grimy warehouses on Mars. Can you step to these Martian moves?

I knew all this prior to hearing Jonny L’s debut LP, Sawtooth, as I heard most of these songs elsewhere. In fact, I have at least half the tracks here on other CDs (including Treading) hence why I figured Mr. Lisners more an EP guy. I never considered his first album had been raided for so many tunes! Does this make Sawtooth an unheralded classic the likes we should prop up every chance given?

Ah, not quite. For a ‘90s d’n’b album, it’s solid enough, though if you don’t fancy the tech-step stylee, there isn’t much else to vibe on here. For sure the two atmospheric cuts are mint, and ol’ Jonny throws a single swerve in mid-track Detroit, a tune that clearly wants to be an old-school electro homage, but comes out sounding like technobass instead. Wait, that’s awesome! Other tracks like Moving Thru Air, Two Of Us and Obedience stick to the tech-step sound, good tracks in of themselves though a little redundant when taking in Sawtooth as a whole. Yeah, about as cliché a d’n’b album nitpick as it gets, that one.

Coldplay - A Rush Of Blood To The Head

Parlaphone: 2002

I suppose if you’re gonna’ have any Coldplay album, it may as well be this one. It’s stronger than their debut, wherein the band members’ quick success had provided plenty confidence in their song-writing. It’s also still early in their career, before all the pretentious waffle that came associated with the band emerged, their sound fresh in the minds of everyone coming within earshot of Clocks and In My Place. It’s definitely the best-selling of Coldplay’s albums, earning over twenty-million sales globally, despite not even hitting the number one spot in America. Thanks to its ultra-success, nearly every album since A Rush Of Blood To The Head debuted on top of charts the world over, the streak finally ending with last year’s A Head Full Of Dreams.

And just what gave Coldplay’s sophomore effort such undeniable fame, fortune, plaudits, and popularity? Eh, I’m not the guy to psycho-analyze this. Given its never-ending placement in “Best Ever Rock Albums” lists, not to mention the massive market penetration, more than enough folks have provided in-depth insight into what made this album ‘work’. I’ve only given the band passive interest over the years, their ubiquitous presence upon radios abroad sating whatever Coldplay need I ever had. Nearly did pick up that X&Y album though, what with promo hype promising inspiration from electronic music past; impossibly, eye-catching cover art didn’t hurt either, luring me in as fuzzy Lepidoptera to flame.

Talk about A Rush Of Blood To The Head I must though, and my stunning conclusion of this album is… yeah, it’s a nice listen. Not shattering any narratives here, my friends. Coldplay have that sweet middle ground of pop sensibilities while presenting themselves with enough earnest songcraft that you can’t fault them on any basic musical level. The melodies fill a room as pleasant background fluff, have enough substance to lure you in for a closer listen, and never wander too far off the path of familiarity. It’s the sound everyone figured Radiohead would have made if that band had only explored their inner U2 capabilities rather than go full-on Pink Floyd. In other words, exactly the music most magazines are quick to heap praise upon, radios are quick to flood the airwaves with, and folks were eager to own in their still-practical CD collections. Fair play to Coldplay in filling that apparent gaping void, though it cannot be denied hearing In My Place every week for the past decade is too damn much for any sane person.

I don’t know what else to say about A Rush Of Blood To The Head - today’s events are kinda’ distracting. I’ve read speculation attributing the album’s success to the aftershock of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a calming musical journey that also provided a sense of motivated urgency in how people should proceed. While playing this on a day like today, reading of innocent people falling to yet another senseless, preventable tragedy, that theory was definitely put into practice for yours truly. Rest well.

Feist - The Reminder

Arts & Crafts: 2007

I want to claim I heard of Feist before she got popular, but I’m not certain how accurate that is. Right, there’s almost no way I heard her before this album came out, though she wasn’t ultra-obscure by any means. Folks clued in with the Canadian indie rock scene would have likely had some contact with her contributions to Broken Social Scene, and her 2004 album Let It Die somehow did better overseas compared to her homeland, successful enough to warrant a remix album. None of which came within radar of my musical interests in the mid-‘00s, mind, but along came a noisy boyzie making a debut of his own that included a bonus remix of Feist’s latest single of My Moon My Man. Aww, yeah, I know you got that gnarly robot chorus in your head now. Go on, sing it: “My moon my man, my moon my man, my moon my man, my moon my man, yyeahyyeahyyeahyeahh!”

I didn’t hear that version until Boys Noize’s album came out later in 2007 though, and Feist’s The Reminder hit the streets earlier that year. Given this was the record that gave her all the plaudits, award nominations, sales, and newfound fans, that must mean I had to have come to the Feist train late. Yet her fame didn’t really take off until the follow-up single, 1234, came out, and paired with an iPod Nano commercial at that. Hoo boy, talk of a marketing coup, propelling her into the spotlight in one fell swoop. That ‘Colbert Bump’ the following year didn’t hurt either. But… when did the commercial come out? I don’t even remember it, though I tend to block out almost anything Apple ad related anyway. Too much manufactured hip for me, thanks. Besides, it’s I Feel It All that I swear had all the licensing offered, the tune ubiquitous everywhere I went the next couple years.

Anyhow, The Reminder introduced many folks to Feist’s singer-songwriting stylee, giving us a smorgasbord of her various muses. There’s wispy acoustic-folkie material (So Sorry, The Park, Intuition), peppy big-band pop (My Moon My Man, 1234, Sealion), jangly indie rock (I Feel It All, Past In Present) and a bunch of other stuff I’m having difficulty easily stuffing into tidy pigeon-holes. The Limit To Your Love sounds like jazz-blues, Brandy Alexander coffee-shop R&B, and Honey Honey… shoegaze ethereal baroque? Cool, is what it is. Let’s go with that.

All the dynamic genre hopping would amount to mud if Feist didn’t have such a unique voice though. Many scribes of the indie world have given better (and tediously exhaustive) descriptors of how she can sound at once pronounced and strong, yet frail and broken. Her popularity was also helped along by a Canadian media that, like its rappers, must always have exactly One (1) homegrown female singer-songwriter to rave about - Joni Mitchell, Sarah McLachlan, Alanis Morissette, etc. – and the opening was there for Feist to take the reins. Or it was just one big coincidence.

SiJ & Textere Oris - Reflections Under The Sky

Cryo Chamber: 2016

Many of these Cryo Chamber CDs I’m reviewing were procured thanks to the label’s spiffy bulk deals, but not this one. With Reflections Under The Sky, I snatched that up the moment it was announced, getting my hardcopy right off the factory line. Was it because I was a die-hard fan of one SiJ or Textere Oris? Had I been so completely won over by Cryo Chamber’s dark oeuvre that I simply had to shell out for every new release? Ah, not quite the case.

Way back when I started the splurge, a couple of items that interested me were already sold out: Ugasanie’s Call Of The North, and Sabled Sun’s Signals IV-V-VI. With everything under Simon Heath’s sci-fi saga deemed ‘must hear’ for yours truly, I was gutted that I’d be left without a hardcopy of the continuing Signals series. It also got me thinking that, as with most labels now, their CDs were still a limited run offer, and that I shouldn’t dwell on anything Cryo Chamber puts out if it looks promising. And besides, even if it doesn’t turn out all that I’d hoped for, they’d at least become quick collector’s items like so many Ultimae or Silent Season CDs, right? Well, maybe not.

So my impetus in getting Reflections Under The Sky had a smidge of Collector Investment impurity to it. Once I actually played the CD though, I realized I could never part with it, this album such a swirl of dubby sounds and reflective sentiments, I couldn’t believe it wasn’t something from Silent Season instead. Still, Cryo Chamber’s generated their share of moody melancholic material before, with SiJ and Textere Oris sparing no expense in presenting a unique brand of picturesque societal decay. There’s plenty of droning ambient, but it’s not always as bleak as the dark proponents go. Its equal parts calm and soothing, as though we’re being gently laid to rest for an eternal slumber. And through it all are ample minimalist field recordings that Andrew Heath would swoon over: falling rain, chirping birds, insects, creaking buildings, wind chimes, and… a tea kettle reaching boiling?

Apparently this is the sort of music SiJ (Vladislav Sikach to the Ukrainian Musician’s Guild) dabbles in, making use of any and all instruments at his disposal. This includes guitars, drums, toy pianos, and even homemade machines, much of which was used to explore noisier abstractions and experiments. He’s definitely had plenty opportunity, some forty LPs released across several netlabels this past half decade. Lord Discogs has less info on Textere Oris, one Ilya Fursov of Moscow, but he provides additional field recordings, synths, and the final mixdown. Aw, Simon Heath left out in the cold on this one.

Yeah, that’s what it feels like listening to Reflections Under The Sky: wrapped up in a parka while surveying an old European winter village, just barely hanging on as a testament to civilizations past. It’s at once lovely and immersive, yet a chilling reminder that nothing lasts.