Labels: Kranky
Review by: Captain Fidanza
Usually when I review things for this website, I write a load of stupid bullshit about that time I saw someone fall over in slow-motion in Wood Green Shopping City or the night I met St. Hubbins in a pub in Seven Dials. All good background, all good build, all good meat.
However, every once in a while AM sends me something constructed with such ethereal beauty that it somehow impedes my natural tendency to trivialise everything by making reference to that time a gigantic wasp landed on the ear of someone we were standing behind at Cambridge v Barnet in 1994 (1-1. Terry Gibson with the equalizer on his debut. The Cambridge scorer is unimportant.)
This is one of those recordings; its symphonic majesty makes it feel as though an old man with tiny glasses wrote it in his attic in 1560 and it lay undiscovered for three hundred years in the vault of a Bohemian nobleman until his recent demise at the hands of a duplicitous courtier.
One of the songs is called VHS, which is almost too incongruously brilliant for words.