art of the memory palace

Arriving home earlier today from 9 till 1 office hell drudgery, indeed we are still on recuperating special guest appearance hours, a familiar taped and label stickered package from the good folk at Static Caravan. Inside the well concealed folds of the envelope a little something that admittedly pre-empted a message received from Andrew of Art of the Memory Palace, who in passing gave us the heads up on a new AotMP EP due any day soon and links to a forthcoming solo outing entitled ‘the Paralian’ – arriving for adoring in February, reviews of which may follow this little musing, though I suspect tomorrow might be more the likely. Anyhow, accompanied by the trademark Static Caravan inserts, this time a kodak transparency and an antique postcard from Sheffield from, by the looks of it, 1925 featuring a little portrait of Ludwig Van, the EP titled ‘Dusk at Trellick Tower’ arrives without a track listing, in fact I strongly suspect its not even planned for a Static Caravan appearance given it doesn’t, so far anyway, appear on their release listing page. Anyhow, enough of the waffling, six tracks feature on this EP, sound wise, texture and placing light years away from their acclaimed ‘Voiture Blanche Dans Le Noir’ soundtrack of 2017 for Horror Pop Sounds, instead ‘Dusk at Trellick Tower’ seems them ascending to a new level of sonic consciousness crafted in an amorphous pop awareness ushered and drawn, or so it would seem, from the very pulse of the cosmic divine. That said, throughout ‘Dusk at Trellick Tower’ you can’t escape the sense of a betraying bruising amid its muted beauty which, tender as it is, is scratched with a vulnerable ache (something best exemplified on the tearful entrancement of the ghost soul celestial that is track 3 – best described as an orbital orphan). Still, both affectionate and alluring, the AotMP trademarks are still in play, the classicist brush strokes of Roubaix and Morricone harmoniously are scented and stirred with a pop pristine, the first hints of which are instant on the opener, whereupon the svelte noir crushed star spectral orbital mosaics craft an adorably hushed love noted nocturnal whispering, whose airless crystal tipped cascades belie something approaching classic era Air in a tryst with John Barry with a sighing Broadcast watching from afar. Track 2 locates the AotMP folk in the ethereal spectrum of a ‘lost again’ era Yello though here reappointed and wired upon a withdrawing bruising that’s impacted by momentary shocks of memory recalling euphoria hazes. Allowing you time to gather your wherewithal before the onset of track 5, track 4 serves as a brief lunar interlude before the wonderfully worked Stereolab-esque vintage of ‘#5’ takes a moment to work its library lounge smokiness upon your listening space, in truth not a million miles from the kind of stuff that once upon a time, Fugu was adept at exploring though these days you’ll find a likening kinship with the likes of Lake Ruth, Beautify Junkyards and Le SuperHomard, cerebrally chilled mesmeric kosmick exotica is all we’ll say of it. ‘#6’ draws matters to a close, though not without the consequence of heavily tugging upon your heartstrings, remote and lost, this vapour spooled oblique sighs and swirls amid a darkly chic toning whose noir scratched moonage murmur purrs with a Vannier sensitivity.

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