Suche:grey c frost

RIYL: Sufjan Stevens, Pearls Before Swine, Richard Dawson, Incredible String Band, Scott Walker. When Dominic Harris started work on the follow up to 2017’s “Rural Tonic”, he had a different kind of landscape in mind than the bucolic inspiration he’d mined for that album and its predecessor (2013’s “Woodland Casual”). Instead it was nostalgia for winters of a youth (mis)spent in 90’s Berlin.

With a lucky find of a Hohner Guitaret, (a 1960s electric thumb piano), Harris began writing lyrics around its sparse and austere accompaniment. And after reconnecting with an old friend from Edinburgh, Ricky White, now living in the USA, the plan became clearer: a winter-journey to the rural Mid-West to write and record an LP. Convening in White’s new hometown of Bloomington IN, Harris would work each morning in the county library, the pair then venturing out on long, aimless drives down country roads before returning to put their ideas and conversation into music. With songs written over two weeks, Harris and White headed to a small studio space in a derelict strip mall in Indianapolis, to capture the album in as minimalistic a form as was fitting to the wintry feel of much of the music; glimmers of pedal steel and recorder shining out amid the dual acoustic guitars and piano arrangements. After the pandemic cut its swathe through all plans, the recording sessions decamped to Scotland.

By then Harris’s longtime collaborator Robert McFall had written string arrangements for each song, effortlessly capturing the spirit of the original vision whilst elevating each song towards the universal. Still there were the frosty hedgerows and abandoned factories of the rural Rust Belt. But also now the sandstone architecture and cobwebs of Edinburgh, and the cold grey of the Firth of Forth. Diminuet, the cover artwork showing a catheter transformed into a flower, captures that fragile moment where the world seems forever frozen in time, even as the Spring prepares to transform us all once again

After more than ten years, four albums and countless shows, Swiss artist Joell Nicolas takes a turn and releases her last album as VRVN. Despite being an ending, Storia is also a place for beginnings. For the first time, VRVN brings together her semi-modular synth with an acoustic instrument, but not just any: a church organ. Filled with air like a dragon, it becomes both emancipating and dangerous, weaving its sounds with synthetic ones, together with voices and lyrics: in English and –also for the first time– in French.

Three years of musical research condensed in ten tracks, sometimes structured as songs, sometimes as sensitive soundscapes. Stemming from an exploration of textures over structure, Storia meanders through intimate topics, such as childhood, silence, risk, healing and transformation.

With the support of Ville de Lausanne and Canton de Vaud.

Peace and love in late 60s America did not come without parallel feelings of fear and confusion about the social situation – specifically about Vietnam. “Safe In My Garden” is the latest Ace compilation in an acclaimed series compiled by Bob Stanley – it’s a companion piece to the much-praised “State Of The Union (The American Dream In Crisis 1967 – 1973)” Ace CDCHD 1533/XXQLP2 057 2018).

The music on “Safe In My Garden” is harmony-laden, beautifully produced soft rock. Sunshine pop, even - a melodic, innovative style of American music that grew in the mid-60s out of the folk and surf scenes, exemplified by the Beach Boys and the Mamas and Papas. You will hear orchestral arrangements, and soft boy-girl vocals. But it wasn’t made in isolation from what was going on in the outside world. There are clouds and minor chords, plenty of melancholy in those harmonies.

“Safe In My Garden” includes songs of escape (Mark Eric’s ‘Move With The Dawn’, the Groop’s ‘A Famous Myth’), loss (the Eighth Day’s ‘How Can I Stop Loving You’, the New Colony Six’s ‘Prairie Grey’), dreamscapes (Tommy James and the Shondells’ ‘She’, Nancy Priddy’s ‘Christina’s World’), rebirth (Smokey and his Sister’s ‘Creators Of Rain’), a simpler world (the Free Design’s ‘My Brother Woody’) and a philosophically sounder future (Chad & Jeremy’s ‘The Ark’, Best of Friends’ ‘Summer Sound’).

It contains some surprisingly dark messages paired with beautiful melodies, as well as songs of hope. Thousands of young musicians in cities, suburbs and small towns across the States from the mid to late 60s spent their mornings hiding from the mailman, dreading the draft. This is the Sound of Young America in the late 60s, keeping its fingers crossed.

Originally released as a hand-numbered CD on New Year's Eve of 2004, Last Light captures Tor Lundvall 's hushed songcraft at its most ghostly and grayscale, stripped bare like branches bracing for winter. Initially conceived of as "a piano album with sparse electronics" (with the working title November), Lundvall's palette steadily expanded, incorporating synthesizer, samples, bass, metronomes, and his signature spectral vocals. A journal entry from the spring of 2002 proved formative to his evolving vision: "I remember watching the blueish-grey light shimmering outside and hearing distant sounds echoing far away, eventually sinking into silence and stillness." The album's 12 tracks are steeped in this sense of autumnal transience, of bearing witness to what fades. The music moves in whispered swells, between dirge, drift, and devotional. Synths chime like slow-tolling bells; percussion shuffles and shivers, icy and isolated; bass traces a low-lidded plod - it's a mode both austere and seductive, lulling the listener into its landscapes of deepening dusk. Lyrically, Lundvall's language skews observational and depressive ("through lace curtains / grey light falls / dark clouds gather / in my soul" ), with each song like a gauzy glimpse into a different tableau framing winter's descent: rust - colored leaves, frozen ponds, cold crescent moons. Lundvall has long considered Last Light a "personal favorite" in his discography, and it's easy to hear why. In texture, finesse, and pacing, it vividly evokes the rare mood of fragile, frosty pastoral noir depicted in his iconic oil paintings. His is an art of the half-seen and half-remembered, of fleeting figures, shapes and shadows, and gathering darkness. Of all that disappears, and the ghosts that never leave: "So I wait / as the years / slowly drain the magic and the light / and the girl / I never loved / haunts me through the dark roads of my life."

Originally released as a hand-numbered CD on New Year's Eve of 2004, Last Light captures Tor Lundvall 's hushed songcraft at its most ghostly and grayscale, stripped bare like branches bracing for winter. Initially conceived of as "a piano album with sparse electronics" (with the working title November), Lundvall's palette steadily expanded, incorporating synthesizer, samples, bass, metronomes, and his signature spectral vocals. A journal entry from the spring of 2002 proved formative to his evolving vision: "I remember watching the blueish-grey light shimmering outside and hearing distant sounds echoing far away, eventually sinking into silence and stillness." The album's 12 tracks are steeped in this sense of autumnal transience, of bearing witness to what fades. The music moves in whispered swells, between dirge, drift, and devotional. Synths chime like slow-tolling bells; percussion shuffles and shivers, icy and isolated; bass traces a low-lidded plod - it's a mode both austere and seductive, lulling the listener into its landscapes of deepening dusk. Lyrically, Lundvall's language skews observational and depressive ("through lace curtains / grey light falls / dark clouds gather / in my soul" ), with each song like a gauzy glimpse into a different tableau framing winter's descent: rust - colored leaves, frozen ponds, cold crescent moons. Lundvall has long considered Last Light a "personal favorite" in his discography, and it's easy to hear why. In texture, finesse, and pacing, it vividly evokes the rare mood of fragile, frosty pastoral noir depicted in his iconic oil paintings. His is an art of the half-seen and half-remembered, of fleeting figures, shapes and shadows, and gathering darkness. Of all that disappears, and the ghosts that never leave: "So I wait / as the years / slowly drain the magic and the light / and the girl / I never loved / haunts me through the dark roads of my life."

Tuhka, like its titular cinder or ash symbolises new beginnings, fertile ground and creativity after a long lapse. In the same vein, the tracks on this edition were created after a long fallow period.

Tuhka was created out of archival snippets and new vocal loops created on the sunny top floor of Merlijnstraat in early 2022. Late lockdown there was spent writing on the balcony and walking or playing in nearby parks. This creative but relaxed time is embodied in the feeling on ’Tuhka,’ a release wrapping itself around the core of two long-form tracks:

Kärpässieni is a soft, pensive number, with an archival cheap synth track and a chopped-up mystery field recording mingling with a simple subdued vocal loop. There is a titular reference to amanita mushrooms, a fungi encompassing the mystery and the melancholy bitterness present in the track. The feeling is akin to a frosty morning spent on a walk to the Mercatorplein library and feeling your toes start numbing.

Varisevalehti means ’shudderingleaf’ and it consists of an airy, optimistic voice loop that progresses and winds around the length of the track. Alongside it, at times you can hear tape-manipulated samples from a ’learn Italian’ record I used to own. The feeling is more of a wander around Westerpark when the blossoms have started come loose and fly around in the air, forming soft pink deposits in the corners of streets.

Thanks to Haron Aumaj for enduring support and for the copious quantities of Banjaan borani.

500 copies on limited purple vinyl

By The Sea come from the lineage of firework pop, bursts of colour and squeeze-your-hand intense love aligned with grey skies & work things.
Recall the first time you heard The Chills’ ‘Pink Frost’ or Television Personalities’ How I Learned To Live The Bomb’?
That’s the encounter.

Liam Power formed By The Sea in 2011, the band’s debut single Waltz Away coming out on The Great Pop Supplement label that year. In November 2012 the band released their self-titled album through Dell’Orso and GPS. The NME noted how there was “a beautifully bruised element to this Wirral act’s debut from the subdued, morbid production to Liam Power’s heroically battle-weary vocals”.

They have also often been tagged for their kitchen-sink dramas though they’re more akin to something like ‘Wish You Were Here’, both funny and dark without being maudlin. There’s an end of pier melancholy to By The Sea records though, something more than a scribble of sentiment on a souvenir postcard.

For their second LP ‘Endless Days, Crystal Skies the band turned over production duties to their friend Bill Ryder-Jones (formerly of The Coral) and released that bounty of melodic pop in 2014. It’s a partnership they have retained for the new third album ‘Heaven Knows Magnolia’ released on limited purple vinyl, CD and digital formats on October 21st. The song

Gliding & Hiding’ presents one of post-punk’s maverick spirits at her finest: Malka Spigel sprang to prominence as bassist and vocalist with the legendary Minimal Compact. She’s also an internationally acclaimed photographer and video artist. Alongside her partner and long term collaborator Colin Newman, she’s also one half of the electro-kosmiche duo Immersion. The pair are also members of the unique art-pop quartet Githead. Yet often, Spigel’s most personal work is to be found on her solo albums.1993 debut ’Rosh Balata’ is a contemporary rock album sung in Hebrew, with 1998’s ‘My Pet Fish’ showcasing an idiosyncratic amalgam of rock and electronics, whilst 2012’s ’Every Day Is Like The First Day’ is a full blown psychedelic pop record, with guests including Johnny Marr, Alexander Balanescu and Julie Campbell (aka Lonelady).Now, ’Gliding & Hiding’ gathers together Spigel’s gorgeous 2014 ‘Gliding’ EP, with reworked tracks from the 1994 mini-album ‘Hide’. The result is a collection that ranges from sunshine pop, to minimal breakbeat techno, all the way to blissed out rock.For the ‘Gliding’ material, Spigel is joined by Newman, on guitar and keyboards, Ronald Lippok of Tarwater/To Rococo Rot on drums, and Gil Luz and Uri Frost of Mambas, on keyboards and guitar respectively, with additional guitars from Julie Campbell, and Matthew Simms of Wire. These songs began life as live recordings from a gig at London’s Lexington, but were then refined in the studio. Yet they retain the sound of a real band, bouncing off each other’s considerable talents‘Gliding & Hiding’ serves as a career overview, whilst the reworked compositions prove how utterly contemporary her sound is. If you are new to the delights of Malka Spigel, this is the perfect place to dive in..

Maple Glider is Naarm/Melbourne-based singer-songwriter Tori
Zietsch.
On debut album ‘To Enjoy is the Only Thing’, written whilst Zietsch
lived in Brighton in the UK, she compiles a striking set of vignettes
from her life; growing up in a restrictive religious household, falling in
and out of love, cross-country and international travel, longing,
alienation and more.
Moments both unremarkable and life-altering but always deeply felt,
brought to vivid life by the beauty of Tori’s artistry and wry sense of
dark humour.
Elaborating further on her vision for the project, Zietsch describes:
“To me, ‘To Enjoy is the Only Thing’ feels like walking past tinselcovered trees in mid-September, swimming along the calanques in
the south of France, frost on the hood of a car, darkness at 4pm,
lightness until 10pm, Sibylle Baier’s Colour Green, Devendra
Banhart’s Ma, Adrianne Lenker’s a-sides, a muted feeling, the
perpetual grey fog that swallows the Silver Coast in Portugal, an ugly
green dress, the color red, red wine, red blood, red lips, the red of a
cardinal’s robe, Switzerland, my mother’s diaries, a coroner’s report,
the sun on my face, the end of love.”