P-D I In Spain Volume One (Fenland Hi-Brow FH-B 030 (CD) July 2003)
Aw, they suddenly all immense up in this Madre-Facta, where you wan’ it like that. What gorgeous space they have acquired, where fool-heads nurture a faggy bronze.
SPANISH CASTLE RHETORIC is how they slipped the legend into your bark-packet. ECM uses reverb to sooth the bitter obviousness of class oppression. What they capture here is material dialogue balmed in glittery-dark character distortion: but they’re collaborating with space, as they always do, of course, but here the space to hand oozes delusions of aristocracy.
Deft naughty clappers.
He is clearly inspired by the local ornithol, how in Southern Europe, the air feeds the heart in 4-Dimensional music. Can this be Messaien done Miro? And She’s doing it, too, no doubt, that way it’s they in absolute.
Listen, right? What music do you know about that actually deals fully with atmospheric temperature, with heat and cold, specifically? Obviously there’s an element of Mahler’s 3rd, in that he makes it all about weather – and doesn’t fail to notice that birds poeticise the material. Just like they drew a definitive social inversion out from Bonfire Night, here they deliver embroidered steel out of the apricot-sweet vocabulary of holidays!
[‘Interlude’]
Conversation. Sparrows guff their reflection of what He did. For Llanca & Elsewhere, She got bricks: because She ‘plays bricks’. By now, though, She must surely be grouting flamenco rats, thru’ ubiquitating roof-scrape.
Canny ubiquitateuse [‘Mawz?’]
And you know it fits and weeps you. Of course, He is flurried up by this for a while, having to dry his nibbly-nobbly leopard with anti-phosphate matches. This is after all a country where they really had a war between left and right, writ large, with the fascists babied into the cushy keep for, like, 40 fucking years. He knows they can still taste it, that they can be asked to ponce about celebrating the failure of a fundamentally shit idea in the first place. This is also before fucking Operation Hooride-Islam Endeavour.
BIRD-THING HORN RECONSTRUCTION actually is that – I ain’t shitting you. But [D]he remembers only the bits he has to, in order to rattle. It’s on this track, then/though, that you realise that P[she] is playing with such lucid ease that she’s at home or something. Her delicate rides give her bebop hat-card, no doubt, but she has absolute claws of evanescence, marking each crucial with an almost-nonchalance that is gaspful!
I couldn’t fucking believe it when I first heard ‘COL-I Whistling’. I still can’t believe it, but I’m very, very happy! ‘Vee used to have koncertz like this in Chermany’.
HETROTRAP his hard, now, given the circus: taken the charge. It’s very as-if they hit the Balearics hard to flag the ‘scene’ for kicks. But it’s OK, just in case you thought they were coming up the drive to stag the grille, they raise the beats to material lamping, inside on the cool, revised tiling. It’s exquisite and magnificent.
P-D I is captivating and rigorous. But when it’s also entertaining they deffo park yo bike in the crack: What I love about the simple beauty of ‘Concepts Of Liberty - II’’s thematic reprise is the genuinely moving and earnest attempts by the poor, whining property-rotator to mimic the daft nuances of Concepts of Liberty Over Nearly Everyone.
Catching the mood swiftly, T[He] breaks out for a wicked-ass solo [‘GIRONA SALT ANGLES’], which M[She] maps gaspingly with both support and bumpy asides.
Hey, I want to fan you. Down on the fan. When does the fan break?
Just by the by, how many soloists do you know, right, that carry a dialogue off with this much focused diversity? I mean, it’s just a fucking tape, right?
You can buy this album, and others like it, from www.fenlandhibrow.co.uk
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