Graham Reid | | <1 min read
But first, here's a little something which can keep you and the little ones amused.
A few years ago Brian Eno introduced an app called Bloom which I've found invaluable to have on my phone.
When nearby kids in a hospital waiting room are scratchy and their parents are worn out, when a bored toddler in a shopping market trolley is starting to squirm or when you are just sitting waiting for Godot or god-knows who, then start up Bloom.
By touching the screen it sends out ripples of colours and sounds. Each sound has a different colour, you can create delays and echoes, the images morph and fade . . .
It's a delightful diversion . . . and at times this album – I believe the first together featuring these two brothers since the beautiful Apollo in '83 – has that same restful, repeated quality.
These are ambient impressionistic pieces for piano (Roger, organ on Obsidian) and keyboards (Brian) which can be stately and present (Celeste) or simply atmospheric and evaporate before your ears.
As with Bloom, this is about the synesthetic relationship of music and colour – the titles read like a paint colour card: Burnt Umber, Wintergreen, Dark Sienna etc – and while some of it evaporates and little has the swooning elegance of Apollo, this is yet another ambient, restful tapestry of sound if not texture.
Available on double vinyl or through Spotify here
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