Faraway Press

Previously released on Three Poplars, the first part of this composition by Andrew Chalk is here completed by a much longer second instalment, a welcome extension bringing the total duration to almost 75 minutes. The music flows with the timelessness typical of the Englishman’s work, both solo and in the oneiric therapy of his late lamented Mirror project with Christoph Heemann. The immobile mass of formless harmony that opens Part One draws out those feelings of silent sorrow we try (in vain) to fight, a blurred reflection of consciousness in the precious dream state where images and memories drift slowly across the mind without ever finding definitive resting places. Part Two is even foggier, rewinding the film back to an image of a child in the back of daddy’s car, gazing out through an ever-changing mosaic of droplets of gentle rain forming small water courses on the windows, as surrounding fields and dark grey asphalt merge in a slow ceremonial of hypnotic succession, something to be relived later in adulthood, after too many wrong turns taken down the road to normality, where we inevitably return, crestfallen, after each weak attempt to flutter alone.

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