Sweeping but detailed ambient classical brushstrokes from Andrea Belfi (drums), Simon James Phillips (piano) and BJ Nilsen (electronics): conceived as the trio’s suitably lush debut for Berlin’s Sonic Pieces; their 2nd LP proper after The Swifter (The Tapeworm, 2012) and the Live At Maria Matos (Entr’acte, 2014).
A sense of scale and perspective is key to Wall Sailor, drawing the ear between intimate instrumental movement and vaulted electro-acoustic dimensions to leave the listener floating, buffeted about their gently graded but unfathomable space with a dreamlike sense of motion.
It recalls Biosphere’s Dropsonde in its sonic palette at least, but where that record was loop-based, The Swifter are free to move in any direction the mood takes them, and do so with elemental elegance, coursing from the plangent, post rock shimmer and almost native American-styled motorik pulse of A Drift before catching an updraft and unfurling their wings with the heart-rending, avian display of polymetric timings and swooning, Reichian phasing in Steel Murmuration.
Travelling Angle soon grounds us in more pastoral terrain, with Andrea Belfi’s unfeasibly tight, endless snare roll and glinting percussions mimicking a psycho woodpecker whilst the keys and electronics trace racing waterways into the darker, swirling confluence of Kneading Pine, which comes off like Oren Ambarchi and Reinhold Freidl attempting to underdo each other with mercurial gestures, and finally their Steeled Murmuration finds those wings become heavier, tired from the distance travelled, but still urging forward with jabbing keys to an ultimate resting place.
BBC nature documentary programmers beware; this is a beauty.
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Sweeping but detailed ambient classical brushstrokes from Andrea Belfi (drums), Simon James Phillips (piano) and BJ Nilsen (electronics): conceived as the trio’s suitably lush debut for Berlin’s Sonic Pieces; their 2nd LP proper after The Swifter (The Tapeworm, 2012) and the Live At Maria Matos (Entr’acte, 2014).
A sense of scale and perspective is key to Wall Sailor, drawing the ear between intimate instrumental movement and vaulted electro-acoustic dimensions to leave the listener floating, buffeted about their gently graded but unfathomable space with a dreamlike sense of motion.
It recalls Biosphere’s Dropsonde in its sonic palette at least, but where that record was loop-based, The Swifter are free to move in any direction the mood takes them, and do so with elemental elegance, coursing from the plangent, post rock shimmer and almost native American-styled motorik pulse of A Drift before catching an updraft and unfurling their wings with the heart-rending, avian display of polymetric timings and swooning, Reichian phasing in Steel Murmuration.
Travelling Angle soon grounds us in more pastoral terrain, with Andrea Belfi’s unfeasibly tight, endless snare roll and glinting percussions mimicking a psycho woodpecker whilst the keys and electronics trace racing waterways into the darker, swirling confluence of Kneading Pine, which comes off like Oren Ambarchi and Reinhold Freidl attempting to underdo each other with mercurial gestures, and finally their Steeled Murmuration finds those wings become heavier, tired from the distance travelled, but still urging forward with jabbing keys to an ultimate resting place.
BBC nature documentary programmers beware; this is a beauty.
Sweeping but detailed ambient classical brushstrokes from Andrea Belfi (drums), Simon James Phillips (piano) and BJ Nilsen (electronics): conceived as the trio’s suitably lush debut for Berlin’s Sonic Pieces; their 2nd LP proper after The Swifter (The Tapeworm, 2012) and the Live At Maria Matos (Entr’acte, 2014).
A sense of scale and perspective is key to Wall Sailor, drawing the ear between intimate instrumental movement and vaulted electro-acoustic dimensions to leave the listener floating, buffeted about their gently graded but unfathomable space with a dreamlike sense of motion.
It recalls Biosphere’s Dropsonde in its sonic palette at least, but where that record was loop-based, The Swifter are free to move in any direction the mood takes them, and do so with elemental elegance, coursing from the plangent, post rock shimmer and almost native American-styled motorik pulse of A Drift before catching an updraft and unfurling their wings with the heart-rending, avian display of polymetric timings and swooning, Reichian phasing in Steel Murmuration.
Travelling Angle soon grounds us in more pastoral terrain, with Andrea Belfi’s unfeasibly tight, endless snare roll and glinting percussions mimicking a psycho woodpecker whilst the keys and electronics trace racing waterways into the darker, swirling confluence of Kneading Pine, which comes off like Oren Ambarchi and Reinhold Freidl attempting to underdo each other with mercurial gestures, and finally their Steeled Murmuration finds those wings become heavier, tired from the distance travelled, but still urging forward with jabbing keys to an ultimate resting place.
BBC nature documentary programmers beware; this is a beauty.
Sweeping but detailed ambient classical brushstrokes from Andrea Belfi (drums), Simon James Phillips (piano) and BJ Nilsen (electronics): conceived as the trio’s suitably lush debut for Berlin’s Sonic Pieces; their 2nd LP proper after The Swifter (The Tapeworm, 2012) and the Live At Maria Matos (Entr’acte, 2014).
A sense of scale and perspective is key to Wall Sailor, drawing the ear between intimate instrumental movement and vaulted electro-acoustic dimensions to leave the listener floating, buffeted about their gently graded but unfathomable space with a dreamlike sense of motion.
It recalls Biosphere’s Dropsonde in its sonic palette at least, but where that record was loop-based, The Swifter are free to move in any direction the mood takes them, and do so with elemental elegance, coursing from the plangent, post rock shimmer and almost native American-styled motorik pulse of A Drift before catching an updraft and unfurling their wings with the heart-rending, avian display of polymetric timings and swooning, Reichian phasing in Steel Murmuration.
Travelling Angle soon grounds us in more pastoral terrain, with Andrea Belfi’s unfeasibly tight, endless snare roll and glinting percussions mimicking a psycho woodpecker whilst the keys and electronics trace racing waterways into the darker, swirling confluence of Kneading Pine, which comes off like Oren Ambarchi and Reinhold Freidl attempting to underdo each other with mercurial gestures, and finally their Steeled Murmuration finds those wings become heavier, tired from the distance travelled, but still urging forward with jabbing keys to an ultimate resting place.
BBC nature documentary programmers beware; this is a beauty.
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Sweeping but detailed ambient classical brushstrokes from Andrea Belfi (drums), Simon James Phillips (piano) and BJ Nilsen (electronics): conceived as the trio’s suitably lush debut for Berlin’s Sonic Pieces; their 2nd LP proper after The Swifter (The Tapeworm, 2012) and the Live At Maria Matos (Entr’acte, 2014).
A sense of scale and perspective is key to Wall Sailor, drawing the ear between intimate instrumental movement and vaulted electro-acoustic dimensions to leave the listener floating, buffeted about their gently graded but unfathomable space with a dreamlike sense of motion.
It recalls Biosphere’s Dropsonde in its sonic palette at least, but where that record was loop-based, The Swifter are free to move in any direction the mood takes them, and do so with elemental elegance, coursing from the plangent, post rock shimmer and almost native American-styled motorik pulse of A Drift before catching an updraft and unfurling their wings with the heart-rending, avian display of polymetric timings and swooning, Reichian phasing in Steel Murmuration.
Travelling Angle soon grounds us in more pastoral terrain, with Andrea Belfi’s unfeasibly tight, endless snare roll and glinting percussions mimicking a psycho woodpecker whilst the keys and electronics trace racing waterways into the darker, swirling confluence of Kneading Pine, which comes off like Oren Ambarchi and Reinhold Freidl attempting to underdo each other with mercurial gestures, and finally their Steeled Murmuration finds those wings become heavier, tired from the distance travelled, but still urging forward with jabbing keys to an ultimate resting place.
BBC nature documentary programmers beware; this is a beauty.