oliver cherer

Just love the faraway fluency of this ‘un. Peeled from a forthcoming Second Language set ‘I feel nothing most days’, this is ‘most days’ by Oliver Cherer. A curiously soothing cloud watching drift away, something that’s a little frail, airless and toyed with a deceptively deep mercurial texturing whose serene simplicity, much like ripples forming from a stone skimming a waters surface, reverberate with a calming genteel positioned somewhere on an axis between Robert Wyatt, David Byrne and Durutti Column unless I’m very much mistaken.

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