Hear painful to the opening moment, and one may also notice church bells. As Richard O’Brien but notably puts it, “time is fleeting”. However, as the song starts to sway, one begins to fly back into memories and dreams. Intelligent guitar passages ripple, punctuated by tunes box tones. The audio functions as both a time machine and a time capsule. In the beautiful” The Audio of Swimming Underwater”, the tone is blurry and obstructed, mirroring the subject.
None of the lines are in a hurry, though each passes fast, like the existence of a flower. At 1: 23,” Glimpse” is particularly brief, its seedlings scattered to the weather. The level, perhaps, is not to drop on to much, to believe that more elegance is always on its way. ” When The Earth Yelled Again At Me” joins Alaskan Films with Moshimoss in an expansion of last year’s Dustlight / 光の塵 / Burst. Music performers become partners, collaborators become friends. The music is dramatic, the scant drumming at the end like a mild nudge. ” Wait” ( feat. Andrew Tasselmyer ) includes a gentle pulse, perhaps the rhythm of the earth. Soft uavs rise and fall like a delicate, sluggish giant’s mouth. Static falls like flurry. The abrupt conclusion turns into a warning: appreciate this moment you are in.
” Circle and Back” is noteworthy for the quality of the piano, as music form from the ether, only to dissipate in” Light Split”, borne away by the wheels of a steam engine. Later in the item, the tape begins to tilt and weft, another warning that this moment to is passing. There’s also a concept in the painting, as the broken windows appear to lead to various seasons, one’s favourite is not less than nine months away. To keep out for that time, however, is to skip the beauty of the present period. We feel this most vividly at the sunrise, which is when this song is released. Arctic Tapes reminds us that the changing seasons are more beautiful as they pass, which may help us appreciate the transient nature of autumn as we give the summer a melancholy tinge. ( Richard Allen )