Les Fleurs
Following on from the shrouded autumn loveliness of Marsen Jules' debut album 'Herbstlaub', second album 'Les Fleurs' now finds the artist throwing open the windows and welcoming in the scent of spring. Opening through the beautiful chimes of 'Aeillet Sauvage', Jules allows a diffused soundscape to slowly bloom - enveloping the listener in a miasma of creamy vibraphone-bruised resonance that is neither overpowering nor sleight. Bolstered by the introduction of genuine instrumentation, Jules seems to have discovered a more outlandish side to his personality, with the thrumming percussion of 'La Digitale Poupre' and sonorous bass of 'Coquelicot' both exhibiting a more pronounced willingness to firm up the tacit reference points in his work. Whilst comparisons can be readily drawn with the likes of Harold Budd, Max Richter, Avro Part and even William Basinski, Marsen Jules is nonetheless utterly unique - mixing his evident love of skewed compositions with a real ear for melody. The aural equivalent of catching sight of something on a sunny day from the corner of your eye, 'Les Fleurs' shreds its source material then scatters it to the wind - creating a sound that is at once calming without becoming soporific or exhilarating without veering towards the breathless. Managing to introduce lashing of strings for 'Coeur Saignant' and not call upon the clichéd notions of cheap orchestration or dreaded 'soundtrack to an imagery film...' reference, Jules demands a wider audience for his work than the more closed-gate aspects of the leftfield sometimes allow, closing the album with 'Aeillet En Delta' wherein a honeyed breed of blunted ambience brings down the curtain in considerable style. If the summer is half as good as this musical spring, we're in for a scorcher. Essential purchase.
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Following on from the shrouded autumn loveliness of Marsen Jules' debut album 'Herbstlaub', second album 'Les Fleurs' now finds the artist throwing open the windows and welcoming in the scent of spring. Opening through the beautiful chimes of 'Aeillet Sauvage', Jules allows a diffused soundscape to slowly bloom - enveloping the listener in a miasma of creamy vibraphone-bruised resonance that is neither overpowering nor sleight. Bolstered by the introduction of genuine instrumentation, Jules seems to have discovered a more outlandish side to his personality, with the thrumming percussion of 'La Digitale Poupre' and sonorous bass of 'Coquelicot' both exhibiting a more pronounced willingness to firm up the tacit reference points in his work. Whilst comparisons can be readily drawn with the likes of Harold Budd, Max Richter, Avro Part and even William Basinski, Marsen Jules is nonetheless utterly unique - mixing his evident love of skewed compositions with a real ear for melody. The aural equivalent of catching sight of something on a sunny day from the corner of your eye, 'Les Fleurs' shreds its source material then scatters it to the wind - creating a sound that is at once calming without becoming soporific or exhilarating without veering towards the breathless. Managing to introduce lashing of strings for 'Coeur Saignant' and not call upon the clichéd notions of cheap orchestration or dreaded 'soundtrack to an imagery film...' reference, Jules demands a wider audience for his work than the more closed-gate aspects of the leftfield sometimes allow, closing the album with 'Aeillet En Delta' wherein a honeyed breed of blunted ambience brings down the curtain in considerable style. If the summer is half as good as this musical spring, we're in for a scorcher. Essential purchase.
Following on from the shrouded autumn loveliness of Marsen Jules' debut album 'Herbstlaub', second album 'Les Fleurs' now finds the artist throwing open the windows and welcoming in the scent of spring. Opening through the beautiful chimes of 'Aeillet Sauvage', Jules allows a diffused soundscape to slowly bloom - enveloping the listener in a miasma of creamy vibraphone-bruised resonance that is neither overpowering nor sleight. Bolstered by the introduction of genuine instrumentation, Jules seems to have discovered a more outlandish side to his personality, with the thrumming percussion of 'La Digitale Poupre' and sonorous bass of 'Coquelicot' both exhibiting a more pronounced willingness to firm up the tacit reference points in his work. Whilst comparisons can be readily drawn with the likes of Harold Budd, Max Richter, Avro Part and even William Basinski, Marsen Jules is nonetheless utterly unique - mixing his evident love of skewed compositions with a real ear for melody. The aural equivalent of catching sight of something on a sunny day from the corner of your eye, 'Les Fleurs' shreds its source material then scatters it to the wind - creating a sound that is at once calming without becoming soporific or exhilarating without veering towards the breathless. Managing to introduce lashing of strings for 'Coeur Saignant' and not call upon the clichéd notions of cheap orchestration or dreaded 'soundtrack to an imagery film...' reference, Jules demands a wider audience for his work than the more closed-gate aspects of the leftfield sometimes allow, closing the album with 'Aeillet En Delta' wherein a honeyed breed of blunted ambience brings down the curtain in considerable style. If the summer is half as good as this musical spring, we're in for a scorcher. Essential purchase.
Following on from the shrouded autumn loveliness of Marsen Jules' debut album 'Herbstlaub', second album 'Les Fleurs' now finds the artist throwing open the windows and welcoming in the scent of spring. Opening through the beautiful chimes of 'Aeillet Sauvage', Jules allows a diffused soundscape to slowly bloom - enveloping the listener in a miasma of creamy vibraphone-bruised resonance that is neither overpowering nor sleight. Bolstered by the introduction of genuine instrumentation, Jules seems to have discovered a more outlandish side to his personality, with the thrumming percussion of 'La Digitale Poupre' and sonorous bass of 'Coquelicot' both exhibiting a more pronounced willingness to firm up the tacit reference points in his work. Whilst comparisons can be readily drawn with the likes of Harold Budd, Max Richter, Avro Part and even William Basinski, Marsen Jules is nonetheless utterly unique - mixing his evident love of skewed compositions with a real ear for melody. The aural equivalent of catching sight of something on a sunny day from the corner of your eye, 'Les Fleurs' shreds its source material then scatters it to the wind - creating a sound that is at once calming without becoming soporific or exhilarating without veering towards the breathless. Managing to introduce lashing of strings for 'Coeur Saignant' and not call upon the clichéd notions of cheap orchestration or dreaded 'soundtrack to an imagery film...' reference, Jules demands a wider audience for his work than the more closed-gate aspects of the leftfield sometimes allow, closing the album with 'Aeillet En Delta' wherein a honeyed breed of blunted ambience brings down the curtain in considerable style. If the summer is half as good as this musical spring, we're in for a scorcher. Essential purchase.