SullyL

I am impressed. First because of this brilliant music, although not quite a piece of genius ; second because of people’s care to defend their cleverly shaded opinions, and in number too. I read them all, especially regarding the matter of touch : many think the contact with the piano should be softer, or at least should vary along with the emotions that are intended to be transmitted. I believe this side of music is misunderstood : of course one needn’t play as harshly as if it was a Prokoviev piece, but these melodies require altogether less delicacy than usual ballads. Rob Costlow’s creations are fair, without ornaments ; neither the interpretation nor the partition try to seduce the listeners. However, they will carry on all the way whoever agrees to let go and dive into the flow, thoroughly powerful and also inexplicably fresh and graceful. This music makes me think of Breton melodies : the atmosphere is provided, but it’s up to you to invent your own story, the images you feel are born thanks to it, all the shades that goes with the mere sound. Woods of Chaos is the result of a constant collaboration : between a man and the wood and nerves of this instrument, then between both these and the listener’s work to appropriate himself the music – one never hears exactly the same as as his neighbour does. The humble phenomenon surely explains why this album gathers so much interest and passion. If you need comparisons, forget Clayderman who loves ‘effects’ and look for Didier Squiban (in ‘Ballades’).

In spite of what I write, I won’t give thebest grade, because of a tiny lack of originality. I understand why a global similarity is maintained, spinning round like human thoughts and feelings, but I didn’t like it more than reasonably. Nonetheless, sincere congratulations !

Ma première impression a été que cela me rappelle Vangelis pour la clarté des sonorités, qui peuvent jouer de douceur (Cellule) ou d'angoisse avec Stop et sa bande-son digne d'un thriller sanglant. Tout en passant par un large éventail de nuances mises en valeur par la sobriété des sons. Je pourrais qualifier le résultat global de tactile, à cause des contrastes improbables et pourtant harmonieux entre le violoncelle (ou la contrebasse, je ne sais jamais), les drôles de bruits rugueux et d'autres qui se dissolvent comme une goutte de pluie sur de l'encre.
Toujours sobre, nette, souvent délicate, stylée toujours, cette musique défend une nudité franche qui apporte sans conteste un grand bol d'air frais dans l'électronique, à écouter de préférence entre chien et loup.