Beautifully resonating cold atmosphere in Sand In My Hand. There has to be a tacit acceptance of the futility, even if only physically. Which then makes it seem a bit bleak in outlook, so maybe focusing on things as an experience rather than positing a world-view is a way through our tangled tapestries of life. The sensation of the journey for its sake, we all will eventually 'arrive', but then the length of the track and reiteration engenders the cyclical nature of so much of nature. And that, we are inevitably a distinct, if at times somewhat curious, part of, and life goes on regardless. This seems to be backed up as the music changes its tone, as if phasic transition were underway, rehabilitation, reconstruction, revival, reflection. Irresistable...
The Leaves Are Green retains the somewhat sombre air, with lovely pulsations of organicity. A beat and melody to celebrate this joy of living and growth takes place and lighten things nicely. But then, like a palindrome it slips back into it's organic soup for a while, but the beat wins out.
Out Into The Void, tinkles like sunshine through an icy stalagtite, as you eavesdrop on the mumbled conversation the universe is going through. Flowers is a heavily scented bunch of noise and big rhythmic structures. Formidably pretty towards the pointed ending.
Glass is that rounded piece that you find on a windswept beach on a blustery overcast day. Life going on all around and no-one else in sight, just you and the world. Finished with a jazzy, percussion led flourish at the end. Life can be good and all good things must come to their end.
Poetry Blanked is harder to read between the lines, you have to be in the right mood for it, and it does need to be said rather than read. I say, hopefully you read. Nice sense of orientalism in this track, resonates like bamboo in a glissade of percussion. A waterfall of eartHbeat. I let you figure the anagram.
A Presence certainly presents itself assiduously and retains a subtle, tenuous link on you with its beautiful minimalism. Gentle layers of silky music over the unremitting backdrop, softer than rose petals. A player goes through their lines and underlines in piano noises. The fluting, again an orientalist feel to it.
Not Forever, the title track has a melancholic start but comes up smelling of roses like the Dead Can Dance. Lovely flourishes of synthetic tide.
Under A Tree resonates under layers of musical leaves as they fall. The autumn of the album. I like reading under trees.
Ants and Bees a lovely, reminiscent epilogue to a fantastic album.
If Not Forever, maybe another time.
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