|
Muted-though-loud tones of brass say hello young lovers, to be joined by assorted others, including muffled spoken word and faraway thunder.
Lolling like a dreamship on a deeply hovering drone, laudanum's low, echoing tinkles and other more organic occurences gather and recede in slow-motion ambient splendor. The paranoic voice of discretion speaks in documentary samples over a vastly wheezing backdrop and hazy metallic grit.
Awash in liquid sound, the rain still falls on christine street... which is paved with rough textures and layered with dense, shapeless air pockets, dissipating to reveal mysterious clatter. Thickly buzzing chords back the echoey feminine reverberations which emenate from a mouth likened to a pomegranate; everything churns in a repeating cycle. Another amorphous exercise in Gautreau's sonic fogbanks, this memory, forebodence is peppered with repeating notes and a thrumming machine-like whirr.
Sporadic percussive elements clunk and clang intermittently as we linger like vertebrae floats on unsettled waves, threaded with pulsating, brighter strands. Spooky, strange and lovely. Processed strings plink as gray ripples pulsate through
the abbey road twins (5:57); nothing overtly 'Beatle-esque' here if that's what the title alludes to, just isolation and disorientation within these shiftingly unknowable prescences. Soft-focus guitar tones slide and sustain briefly in sleep in the eyes (1:27).
In an enchanting state of juxtaposition, a soft implosion's intriguingly thunderous backdrop sets an unlikely stage for prettily cascading piano notes. The loud monotone strands of emulsion are interwoven with spacey ripples, industrial hisses, random ruckus and who knows what else, giving way to an almost-musical pattern, which fades to silence.
|
