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One of the beauties of generally quiet, slow music is that every sound seems to have its own little area of the stage. And so one tendency, in describing such albums, is to launch into a description of the sounds themselves - especially if, as with Labradford, those sounds are brilliantly chosen and almost rich enough to listen to regardless of what they're doing or of how they're put together. But that would be a mistake, because a simple description of wirey guitar flutterings, electronically clicking rhythm tracks, string quartets, hammered dulcimer, running water, machinery hum, and bass guitar would miss the care and creativity with which those sounds are put together, and even more importantly the effect those assembled sounds create. More often than not on this CD, Labradford achieve a new calculus of beauty, a mysterious, elegiac tone arrived at through newly discovered paths. And I could gather adjectives from a million thesauri to describe the music on this CD, but the best music can be described only by itself. |
