Space As An Instrument
Felicia Atkinson uses intimate, lo-fi piano recordings to ground her latest cosmic offering, considering the mysteries of the universe and setting the scene with cryptic environmental recordings, patient synth drones and reverberant poems.
Piano has featured on previous offerings from Atkinson, but the instrument has never been quite so central to the music as it is on 'Space as an Instrument'. The French multi-disciplinary artist centres her theme with mystifying, dimly lit phrases that underpin each of the seven tracks, cautious to counter the piano's perceived loftiness by dulling some of its sparkle with her process. She recorded the takes with her phone, catching the room sounds to trap the theme of "space" - but she also implores listeners to look deeper, and consider "the mystery of the ineffable".
In the wrong hands, these concepts would provide ammunition for bluster and bombast, but Atkinson's notion of space and its vastness is beautifully microscopic. She nudges us to tune into the tiniest sounds - whispers, breaths, subtle tonal changes - while using the piano as an anchor that keeps us lashed to the corporeal world. On the lengthy 'Thinking Iceberg' (13 minutes of sound that was snipped down from a 1.5 hour performance), terse notes echo beneath crunching footsteps and rattles, and softly quivering pads; Atkinson's voice mouthes tranquil words into the soundscape, not over it, and we're drawn into the colossal slightness of being.
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Felicia Atkinson uses intimate, lo-fi piano recordings to ground her latest cosmic offering, considering the mysteries of the universe and setting the scene with cryptic environmental recordings, patient synth drones and reverberant poems.
Piano has featured on previous offerings from Atkinson, but the instrument has never been quite so central to the music as it is on 'Space as an Instrument'. The French multi-disciplinary artist centres her theme with mystifying, dimly lit phrases that underpin each of the seven tracks, cautious to counter the piano's perceived loftiness by dulling some of its sparkle with her process. She recorded the takes with her phone, catching the room sounds to trap the theme of "space" - but she also implores listeners to look deeper, and consider "the mystery of the ineffable".
In the wrong hands, these concepts would provide ammunition for bluster and bombast, but Atkinson's notion of space and its vastness is beautifully microscopic. She nudges us to tune into the tiniest sounds - whispers, breaths, subtle tonal changes - while using the piano as an anchor that keeps us lashed to the corporeal world. On the lengthy 'Thinking Iceberg' (13 minutes of sound that was snipped down from a 1.5 hour performance), terse notes echo beneath crunching footsteps and rattles, and softly quivering pads; Atkinson's voice mouthes tranquil words into the soundscape, not over it, and we're drawn into the colossal slightness of being.
Felicia Atkinson uses intimate, lo-fi piano recordings to ground her latest cosmic offering, considering the mysteries of the universe and setting the scene with cryptic environmental recordings, patient synth drones and reverberant poems.
Piano has featured on previous offerings from Atkinson, but the instrument has never been quite so central to the music as it is on 'Space as an Instrument'. The French multi-disciplinary artist centres her theme with mystifying, dimly lit phrases that underpin each of the seven tracks, cautious to counter the piano's perceived loftiness by dulling some of its sparkle with her process. She recorded the takes with her phone, catching the room sounds to trap the theme of "space" - but she also implores listeners to look deeper, and consider "the mystery of the ineffable".
In the wrong hands, these concepts would provide ammunition for bluster and bombast, but Atkinson's notion of space and its vastness is beautifully microscopic. She nudges us to tune into the tiniest sounds - whispers, breaths, subtle tonal changes - while using the piano as an anchor that keeps us lashed to the corporeal world. On the lengthy 'Thinking Iceberg' (13 minutes of sound that was snipped down from a 1.5 hour performance), terse notes echo beneath crunching footsteps and rattles, and softly quivering pads; Atkinson's voice mouthes tranquil words into the soundscape, not over it, and we're drawn into the colossal slightness of being.
Felicia Atkinson uses intimate, lo-fi piano recordings to ground her latest cosmic offering, considering the mysteries of the universe and setting the scene with cryptic environmental recordings, patient synth drones and reverberant poems.
Piano has featured on previous offerings from Atkinson, but the instrument has never been quite so central to the music as it is on 'Space as an Instrument'. The French multi-disciplinary artist centres her theme with mystifying, dimly lit phrases that underpin each of the seven tracks, cautious to counter the piano's perceived loftiness by dulling some of its sparkle with her process. She recorded the takes with her phone, catching the room sounds to trap the theme of "space" - but she also implores listeners to look deeper, and consider "the mystery of the ineffable".
In the wrong hands, these concepts would provide ammunition for bluster and bombast, but Atkinson's notion of space and its vastness is beautifully microscopic. She nudges us to tune into the tiniest sounds - whispers, breaths, subtle tonal changes - while using the piano as an anchor that keeps us lashed to the corporeal world. On the lengthy 'Thinking Iceberg' (13 minutes of sound that was snipped down from a 1.5 hour performance), terse notes echo beneath crunching footsteps and rattles, and softly quivering pads; Atkinson's voice mouthes tranquil words into the soundscape, not over it, and we're drawn into the colossal slightness of being.
Estimated Release Date: 25 October 2024
Please note that shipping dates for pre-orders are estimated and are subject to change
Felicia Atkinson uses intimate, lo-fi piano recordings to ground her latest cosmic offering, considering the mysteries of the universe and setting the scene with cryptic environmental recordings, patient synth drones and reverberant poems.
Piano has featured on previous offerings from Atkinson, but the instrument has never been quite so central to the music as it is on 'Space as an Instrument'. The French multi-disciplinary artist centres her theme with mystifying, dimly lit phrases that underpin each of the seven tracks, cautious to counter the piano's perceived loftiness by dulling some of its sparkle with her process. She recorded the takes with her phone, catching the room sounds to trap the theme of "space" - but she also implores listeners to look deeper, and consider "the mystery of the ineffable".
In the wrong hands, these concepts would provide ammunition for bluster and bombast, but Atkinson's notion of space and its vastness is beautifully microscopic. She nudges us to tune into the tiniest sounds - whispers, breaths, subtle tonal changes - while using the piano as an anchor that keeps us lashed to the corporeal world. On the lengthy 'Thinking Iceberg' (13 minutes of sound that was snipped down from a 1.5 hour performance), terse notes echo beneath crunching footsteps and rattles, and softly quivering pads; Atkinson's voice mouthes tranquil words into the soundscape, not over it, and we're drawn into the colossal slightness of being.
Estimated Release Date: 25 October 2024
Please note that shipping dates for pre-orders are estimated and are subject to change
Felicia Atkinson uses intimate, lo-fi piano recordings to ground her latest cosmic offering, considering the mysteries of the universe and setting the scene with cryptic environmental recordings, patient synth drones and reverberant poems.
Piano has featured on previous offerings from Atkinson, but the instrument has never been quite so central to the music as it is on 'Space as an Instrument'. The French multi-disciplinary artist centres her theme with mystifying, dimly lit phrases that underpin each of the seven tracks, cautious to counter the piano's perceived loftiness by dulling some of its sparkle with her process. She recorded the takes with her phone, catching the room sounds to trap the theme of "space" - but she also implores listeners to look deeper, and consider "the mystery of the ineffable".
In the wrong hands, these concepts would provide ammunition for bluster and bombast, but Atkinson's notion of space and its vastness is beautifully microscopic. She nudges us to tune into the tiniest sounds - whispers, breaths, subtle tonal changes - while using the piano as an anchor that keeps us lashed to the corporeal world. On the lengthy 'Thinking Iceberg' (13 minutes of sound that was snipped down from a 1.5 hour performance), terse notes echo beneath crunching footsteps and rattles, and softly quivering pads; Atkinson's voice mouthes tranquil words into the soundscape, not over it, and we're drawn into the colossal slightness of being.