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about 1 year ago
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It is dark, dense, and brooding. The sky is gray. Winter is refusing to leave. Wind becomes the rhythm; dissonance - the melody. In the delicate hands of the Berlin-based (but Icelandic by birth) Hildur Guðnadóttir, the cello whispers and moans. Perhaps it's grieving for an uncertain future, perhaps accepting a buried past. The voice of sorrow seeps through the trembling fingers and saturates e...
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I first discovered The Refractors through their hand packaged and physically painted copy of All Colors Run EP, which they self released in 2008 and were kind enough to send over. I say "discovered" not because I want to take any credit for finding them before they got picked up by San Francisco based Dynamophone Records, but because stumbling upon this duo was a real pleasure, as it is wheneve...
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The shadows recede into their coldness. She shows up this morning. With her light breeze and the blue skies, Spring begins another cycle. The light synthetic chirping in my headphones joins that of the birds. And they all sing. On the train, I read Haruki Murakami's Dance Dance Dance (1994). The atmospheric swells and the ambient drones are the perfect soundtrack to the novel. All the more appr...
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