No Sound is Lost
Idiosyncratic multi-instrumentalist Laura Cannell returns with three tracks recorded in a shipping container, obscuring violin and voice in a reverberating mass of hybrid folk-experimental harmony. As usual, it's brilliantly inventive and struck through with unmistakably British melancholia.
'No Sound Is Lost' swerves enthusiastically from last year's peerless 'Antiphony of the Trees' and its organ-led follow-up 'We Long to be Haunted', blurring its sources into the aether, using resonant space to guide its distinctive motion. Cannell found the 40ft metal box in the Norfolk countryside plonked somewhere in the middle of a field of cows, between intersecting roads and alongside a centuries-old oak tree. "All I want to do is play," she explains in the accompanying press release. "To hit the sides with violin soundings, for them to ricochet among the metal grooves of this oversized shipping crate." The music sounds as if it's been informed by this juxtaposition as Cannell brings East Anglia's cultural soil into an unfamiliar shell thats inexorably linked with the modern malaise - what's more emblematic of failing global logistical systems than a huge empty container in the middle of nowhere surrounded by cows?
'Swarm Intelligence' is surprisingly mannered, Cannell overlays elegant bowed phrases, letting the sound cluster and mutate to fit the alien space. The music sounds rooted in overcast Brythonic folklore, but diverts through the Medieval Franco-British courts, arriving at minimalism and free improvisation almost by accident. Cannell's technique is key, she's keenly aware of how even the tiniest flourishes are transformed by the metal box's tight, unnatural reflections. The title track is even more startling, with Cannell using protracted drones and crumpled phrases to bed dreamy, wordless vocals that echo and flux like the memory of an ancient lullaby.
Essential gear whether yr into Jessica Moss, Richard Skelton, Julianna Barwick or Andrew Chalk.
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Idiosyncratic multi-instrumentalist Laura Cannell returns with three tracks recorded in a shipping container, obscuring violin and voice in a reverberating mass of hybrid folk-experimental harmony. As usual, it's brilliantly inventive and struck through with unmistakably British melancholia.
'No Sound Is Lost' swerves enthusiastically from last year's peerless 'Antiphony of the Trees' and its organ-led follow-up 'We Long to be Haunted', blurring its sources into the aether, using resonant space to guide its distinctive motion. Cannell found the 40ft metal box in the Norfolk countryside plonked somewhere in the middle of a field of cows, between intersecting roads and alongside a centuries-old oak tree. "All I want to do is play," she explains in the accompanying press release. "To hit the sides with violin soundings, for them to ricochet among the metal grooves of this oversized shipping crate." The music sounds as if it's been informed by this juxtaposition as Cannell brings East Anglia's cultural soil into an unfamiliar shell thats inexorably linked with the modern malaise - what's more emblematic of failing global logistical systems than a huge empty container in the middle of nowhere surrounded by cows?
'Swarm Intelligence' is surprisingly mannered, Cannell overlays elegant bowed phrases, letting the sound cluster and mutate to fit the alien space. The music sounds rooted in overcast Brythonic folklore, but diverts through the Medieval Franco-British courts, arriving at minimalism and free improvisation almost by accident. Cannell's technique is key, she's keenly aware of how even the tiniest flourishes are transformed by the metal box's tight, unnatural reflections. The title track is even more startling, with Cannell using protracted drones and crumpled phrases to bed dreamy, wordless vocals that echo and flux like the memory of an ancient lullaby.
Essential gear whether yr into Jessica Moss, Richard Skelton, Julianna Barwick or Andrew Chalk.
Idiosyncratic multi-instrumentalist Laura Cannell returns with three tracks recorded in a shipping container, obscuring violin and voice in a reverberating mass of hybrid folk-experimental harmony. As usual, it's brilliantly inventive and struck through with unmistakably British melancholia.
'No Sound Is Lost' swerves enthusiastically from last year's peerless 'Antiphony of the Trees' and its organ-led follow-up 'We Long to be Haunted', blurring its sources into the aether, using resonant space to guide its distinctive motion. Cannell found the 40ft metal box in the Norfolk countryside plonked somewhere in the middle of a field of cows, between intersecting roads and alongside a centuries-old oak tree. "All I want to do is play," she explains in the accompanying press release. "To hit the sides with violin soundings, for them to ricochet among the metal grooves of this oversized shipping crate." The music sounds as if it's been informed by this juxtaposition as Cannell brings East Anglia's cultural soil into an unfamiliar shell thats inexorably linked with the modern malaise - what's more emblematic of failing global logistical systems than a huge empty container in the middle of nowhere surrounded by cows?
'Swarm Intelligence' is surprisingly mannered, Cannell overlays elegant bowed phrases, letting the sound cluster and mutate to fit the alien space. The music sounds rooted in overcast Brythonic folklore, but diverts through the Medieval Franco-British courts, arriving at minimalism and free improvisation almost by accident. Cannell's technique is key, she's keenly aware of how even the tiniest flourishes are transformed by the metal box's tight, unnatural reflections. The title track is even more startling, with Cannell using protracted drones and crumpled phrases to bed dreamy, wordless vocals that echo and flux like the memory of an ancient lullaby.
Essential gear whether yr into Jessica Moss, Richard Skelton, Julianna Barwick or Andrew Chalk.
Idiosyncratic multi-instrumentalist Laura Cannell returns with three tracks recorded in a shipping container, obscuring violin and voice in a reverberating mass of hybrid folk-experimental harmony. As usual, it's brilliantly inventive and struck through with unmistakably British melancholia.
'No Sound Is Lost' swerves enthusiastically from last year's peerless 'Antiphony of the Trees' and its organ-led follow-up 'We Long to be Haunted', blurring its sources into the aether, using resonant space to guide its distinctive motion. Cannell found the 40ft metal box in the Norfolk countryside plonked somewhere in the middle of a field of cows, between intersecting roads and alongside a centuries-old oak tree. "All I want to do is play," she explains in the accompanying press release. "To hit the sides with violin soundings, for them to ricochet among the metal grooves of this oversized shipping crate." The music sounds as if it's been informed by this juxtaposition as Cannell brings East Anglia's cultural soil into an unfamiliar shell thats inexorably linked with the modern malaise - what's more emblematic of failing global logistical systems than a huge empty container in the middle of nowhere surrounded by cows?
'Swarm Intelligence' is surprisingly mannered, Cannell overlays elegant bowed phrases, letting the sound cluster and mutate to fit the alien space. The music sounds rooted in overcast Brythonic folklore, but diverts through the Medieval Franco-British courts, arriving at minimalism and free improvisation almost by accident. Cannell's technique is key, she's keenly aware of how even the tiniest flourishes are transformed by the metal box's tight, unnatural reflections. The title track is even more startling, with Cannell using protracted drones and crumpled phrases to bed dreamy, wordless vocals that echo and flux like the memory of an ancient lullaby.
Essential gear whether yr into Jessica Moss, Richard Skelton, Julianna Barwick or Andrew Chalk.