Κλίμα (Klima)
Christina Vantzou and John Also Bennett's STUNNING third album as CV & JAB is a glacial marvel that roots itself in Tenerife's expansive landscape, using piano, flute, pitched voices, hydrophone recordings and even a bit of Parmegiani to evoke a deeply sensual mood that sounds like classic Harold Budd augmented by pulsing subs, soporific flute and weirdo/phantom sounds you’re never quite sure are actually there. Alongside Laurel Halo’s ‘Atlas’, you’ll hear little else this year that will transport you so fully to a liminal space, or anything quite so beautiful.
If you try and imagine Harold Budd's epochal 'The Pavilion of Dreams’ with added flute, dithering, pitched voices, sub bass modulations and environmental/concrète interjections, you’ll have some idea of what ‘Κλίμα (Klima)’ holds in store. CV & JAB wrote the album over the course of two years while they traveled across Tenerife, trying to harness the volcanic island's charmed, vastly different microclimates into a sort of travelog, or audio guide.
It's Vantzou’s soft-focus piano motifs that slowly draw us in, fluttering like birds across the horizon, unadorned by effects. JAB’s bass flute soon sweeps in and elevates the whole thing into an intensely calming, almost deliriously blissed state. The rest of the album could easily have unfurled with just this formation and we’d still have been all over it, but instead the duo start screwing with it in microscopic ways that transport proceedings to almost hallucinatory dimensions.
Disjointed voices offer a kind of unstable narration, subs flex, and those environmental recordings provide a perplexing, genius distraction from all the tranquility. At one point, what sounds like the parquet squeak of basketball players smears a sort of barely-there percussive layer over aquatic developments - following an oblique, fuzzy logic all of its own. Don’t get us wrong - all the woo is gentle, almost transparent, but it makes you feel like you’re in a half-remembered dream; the landscape morphing and shifting around you.
As the album drifts towards its conclusion, Vantzou and Bennett usher us into progressively more disquieting space; a low-lit fairytale of flute sounds and warm, washed waves. The final track brings the entire ecosystem together, reintroducing the piano that opened the album and blanketing it in woodwind and audible, shallow breaths. It's an immaculate conclusion that emphasises the record's narrative depth and cyclical nature - all that's left to do is go back to the beginning and bask in its divine, soothing light all over again.
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Christina Vantzou and John Also Bennett's STUNNING third album as CV & JAB is a glacial marvel that roots itself in Tenerife's expansive landscape, using piano, flute, pitched voices, hydrophone recordings and even a bit of Parmegiani to evoke a deeply sensual mood that sounds like classic Harold Budd augmented by pulsing subs, soporific flute and weirdo/phantom sounds you’re never quite sure are actually there. Alongside Laurel Halo’s ‘Atlas’, you’ll hear little else this year that will transport you so fully to a liminal space, or anything quite so beautiful.
If you try and imagine Harold Budd's epochal 'The Pavilion of Dreams’ with added flute, dithering, pitched voices, sub bass modulations and environmental/concrète interjections, you’ll have some idea of what ‘Κλίμα (Klima)’ holds in store. CV & JAB wrote the album over the course of two years while they traveled across Tenerife, trying to harness the volcanic island's charmed, vastly different microclimates into a sort of travelog, or audio guide.
It's Vantzou’s soft-focus piano motifs that slowly draw us in, fluttering like birds across the horizon, unadorned by effects. JAB’s bass flute soon sweeps in and elevates the whole thing into an intensely calming, almost deliriously blissed state. The rest of the album could easily have unfurled with just this formation and we’d still have been all over it, but instead the duo start screwing with it in microscopic ways that transport proceedings to almost hallucinatory dimensions.
Disjointed voices offer a kind of unstable narration, subs flex, and those environmental recordings provide a perplexing, genius distraction from all the tranquility. At one point, what sounds like the parquet squeak of basketball players smears a sort of barely-there percussive layer over aquatic developments - following an oblique, fuzzy logic all of its own. Don’t get us wrong - all the woo is gentle, almost transparent, but it makes you feel like you’re in a half-remembered dream; the landscape morphing and shifting around you.
As the album drifts towards its conclusion, Vantzou and Bennett usher us into progressively more disquieting space; a low-lit fairytale of flute sounds and warm, washed waves. The final track brings the entire ecosystem together, reintroducing the piano that opened the album and blanketing it in woodwind and audible, shallow breaths. It's an immaculate conclusion that emphasises the record's narrative depth and cyclical nature - all that's left to do is go back to the beginning and bask in its divine, soothing light all over again.
Christina Vantzou and John Also Bennett's STUNNING third album as CV & JAB is a glacial marvel that roots itself in Tenerife's expansive landscape, using piano, flute, pitched voices, hydrophone recordings and even a bit of Parmegiani to evoke a deeply sensual mood that sounds like classic Harold Budd augmented by pulsing subs, soporific flute and weirdo/phantom sounds you’re never quite sure are actually there. Alongside Laurel Halo’s ‘Atlas’, you’ll hear little else this year that will transport you so fully to a liminal space, or anything quite so beautiful.
If you try and imagine Harold Budd's epochal 'The Pavilion of Dreams’ with added flute, dithering, pitched voices, sub bass modulations and environmental/concrète interjections, you’ll have some idea of what ‘Κλίμα (Klima)’ holds in store. CV & JAB wrote the album over the course of two years while they traveled across Tenerife, trying to harness the volcanic island's charmed, vastly different microclimates into a sort of travelog, or audio guide.
It's Vantzou’s soft-focus piano motifs that slowly draw us in, fluttering like birds across the horizon, unadorned by effects. JAB’s bass flute soon sweeps in and elevates the whole thing into an intensely calming, almost deliriously blissed state. The rest of the album could easily have unfurled with just this formation and we’d still have been all over it, but instead the duo start screwing with it in microscopic ways that transport proceedings to almost hallucinatory dimensions.
Disjointed voices offer a kind of unstable narration, subs flex, and those environmental recordings provide a perplexing, genius distraction from all the tranquility. At one point, what sounds like the parquet squeak of basketball players smears a sort of barely-there percussive layer over aquatic developments - following an oblique, fuzzy logic all of its own. Don’t get us wrong - all the woo is gentle, almost transparent, but it makes you feel like you’re in a half-remembered dream; the landscape morphing and shifting around you.
As the album drifts towards its conclusion, Vantzou and Bennett usher us into progressively more disquieting space; a low-lit fairytale of flute sounds and warm, washed waves. The final track brings the entire ecosystem together, reintroducing the piano that opened the album and blanketing it in woodwind and audible, shallow breaths. It's an immaculate conclusion that emphasises the record's narrative depth and cyclical nature - all that's left to do is go back to the beginning and bask in its divine, soothing light all over again.
Christina Vantzou and John Also Bennett's STUNNING third album as CV & JAB is a glacial marvel that roots itself in Tenerife's expansive landscape, using piano, flute, pitched voices, hydrophone recordings and even a bit of Parmegiani to evoke a deeply sensual mood that sounds like classic Harold Budd augmented by pulsing subs, soporific flute and weirdo/phantom sounds you’re never quite sure are actually there. Alongside Laurel Halo’s ‘Atlas’, you’ll hear little else this year that will transport you so fully to a liminal space, or anything quite so beautiful.
If you try and imagine Harold Budd's epochal 'The Pavilion of Dreams’ with added flute, dithering, pitched voices, sub bass modulations and environmental/concrète interjections, you’ll have some idea of what ‘Κλίμα (Klima)’ holds in store. CV & JAB wrote the album over the course of two years while they traveled across Tenerife, trying to harness the volcanic island's charmed, vastly different microclimates into a sort of travelog, or audio guide.
It's Vantzou’s soft-focus piano motifs that slowly draw us in, fluttering like birds across the horizon, unadorned by effects. JAB’s bass flute soon sweeps in and elevates the whole thing into an intensely calming, almost deliriously blissed state. The rest of the album could easily have unfurled with just this formation and we’d still have been all over it, but instead the duo start screwing with it in microscopic ways that transport proceedings to almost hallucinatory dimensions.
Disjointed voices offer a kind of unstable narration, subs flex, and those environmental recordings provide a perplexing, genius distraction from all the tranquility. At one point, what sounds like the parquet squeak of basketball players smears a sort of barely-there percussive layer over aquatic developments - following an oblique, fuzzy logic all of its own. Don’t get us wrong - all the woo is gentle, almost transparent, but it makes you feel like you’re in a half-remembered dream; the landscape morphing and shifting around you.
As the album drifts towards its conclusion, Vantzou and Bennett usher us into progressively more disquieting space; a low-lit fairytale of flute sounds and warm, washed waves. The final track brings the entire ecosystem together, reintroducing the piano that opened the album and blanketing it in woodwind and audible, shallow breaths. It's an immaculate conclusion that emphasises the record's narrative depth and cyclical nature - all that's left to do is go back to the beginning and bask in its divine, soothing light all over again.