Reviews by kuvien

This one’s quite manic in spots, like something is creeping up on you, stalking you, but then turns rather comforting in other spots, like an old friend welcoming you. Then it falls back into something foreboding, and you realize your old friend is the one who’s been stalking you the whole time.

A sleepless anxiety pervades this album, a restless manic suspense fills the spaces between you and the music, never allowing your mind a moment's rest. It's all in the notes.

Guys, stop spreading the word about this album! If it gets into the RYM top 100, you'll have to stop liking it!

snaps fingers

Send in the barbarian horde.

At just over three and a half hours, this album is a monster of a listening session, and it has so many disparate elements to it, I’d advise doing different activities while listening. Take a bath, eat supper, let your kids yell in your ear. Anything you do will enhance the experience, including sitting with headphones on and listening intently. This album deconstructs traditional folk music to reveal its nervous system, stripping away flesh layer by layer, as it delves into the depth of the sea, into the heart of darkness, into the mystery of women’s laughter. Let this project transform you... but watch out for the ducks.

This is basically big band jazz with a Korean twist, for the playful sound of the gayageum is undeniable every time it plucks its way forward, opening up new spaces in which to frolic, inviting the other instruments into its steep, unlevel playground. There's something cartoonish about this album--in a good way! Like the zither is doing its own thing, running away, too, and when the other instruments catch up, they play a while, before the zither runs off again, creating a sense of duality in the form of the music.

What I hear is a lot of psychedelic music supported by eerie and ritualistic female vocals that return again and again to the same wordless mantra. There is a droning, evocative feel throughout, inviting the listener to tune out of the world for a while in order to tune in to something higher and greater.

Finding its source in water seems to be a no-brainer for ambient music. There is so much that is just naturally in common between them, the way the music of both envelop you, finding their way into every channel and alley of your body. But water is just the beginning. Eventually something with a heartbeat crawls up onto land, and that heartbeat, erratic at times, becomes the basis of an evolving sound. Side B moves into earthier territory, heavy on the organ, cymbals and the moog. A chaotic core contained within the calm rind of the music.

I always love learning about and hearing new (for me) guitar-like instruments, as in this case there is the tambura, a Mesopotamian long-necked string instrument. Also, the fact that they decided to go with piano as the mainstay of their space rock sound is just brilliant. Definitely prefer the piano to the synthesizer. I had no idea the vocalist was Korean. This music is a stream upon which one may, if one wishes, float, watercourse-way style.

This is as groovy as jazz fusion can get, and it’s as playful as the smirk on Monsieur Ponty’s face! It’s strange—jazz never makes me feel like dancing, but this album does. It’s got a lot of spice and swagger.

I interpretive dance to this while smearing white glue on my eyelids.

Mellow vocals follow in the calm after the storm, as meditative reflection can follow a burst of fear. “Ariels Flight” is an epic prog exploration of dream travel through a faerie sky.

I can't imagine how frustrated I would be if I was caught walking behind this music down a crowded street or how many times I'd have to apologize for stepping on its heels.

An amazing pop rock new wave album from the first hesitant opening noodle of "Don't Stand So Close To Me". There's so much fresh energy and intelligence on this album. Every song sounds different, keeping the listener's attention without difficulty. Also, the moment a schoolgirl propositions you is a surreal one and, in my experience, surprisingly easy to just walk away from.

I always tune up my annoying falsetto voice when this album comes along...after all, I gotta completely ruin the wonderful "Roxanne" in the best way I know how. Actually the end of side A, "Peanuts", is one of my favorite musical moments on this album, because amid all the groovy white reggae, there's an interlude of wild guitars and jazzy-edge saxophones. But then it's right back into the witty, sarcastic songwriting of The Police.

"Invisible Sun" has intimations of. There is a definite sense across the tracks of this album of things that are to come on the next album: feelings of anxiety and pessimism.

Well, you know what they say about living in the city: in the city, you cannot see any stars. So take a trip out of town, into the mountains (the Andes, preferably), and listen to the water run. Learn its cadence, pick up one of the many flutes lying around, and indulge in a tune that'll open the cosmos right in front of you. After all, on the mountaintop, there's nothing between you and it. Anything blending psychedelic sensibilities with indigenous folk is always going to get my attention and almost always gain my appreciation. There is a delightful anthemic quality to this album, as gentle an exhortation any children of the sun might give a listener to follow them.

Employing ancient Japanese storytelling techniques such as Buddhist chants and the playing of the biwa (lute), Ueda flexes her expressive expertise in retelling the tale of a successful samurai lord later betrayed unto death by his jealous brother. Japanese bardic tradition meets French avant-garde, and the result is music that alternates between creepy ghost story and a full assault on the ears, depicting moments of calm with moments of battle and flight.

Half meditation, half battle narrative, the traditional and the avant both blend and clash in this unexpected sojourn into history and culture.

Off-kilter and silly in the tradition of avant-prog without being obnoxious. Classic works of literature like Alice in Wonderland have been described as the writings of "professors at play". This kind of music is the playfulness of serious musicians.