undulating waters 3

Shall we do these in order of appearance, I think we will. I’ve been resisting listening to this until we had a physical cassette in our mitts, the latest Volume of ‘Undulating Waters’ from the very wonderful Woodford Halse folk. As previously, the cassettes are limited and lovingly packaged featuring artwork by a certain Nick Taylor, a cigarette card which to the reverse has your latest instalment of the Woodford mystery. Quality control I’m happy to say hasn’t diminished music wise, if anything the standard has been ratcheted up a notch or three, this particular Volume, gathering a 12 strong tour de force of talent, some familiar some not so. Opening this particular party, the much loved around these here parts, Jumble Hole Cough are an oddly unique sore thumb, oft creatively ahead of the curve, though not necessary on any curve their peers would recognise, they seem happy to wander off in their own hermetically sealed shell. ‘surfing the Sargasso sea’ is a wonderfully fried serving of 70’s styled beardy folk stoner replete with momentary flute floret wanderings and a whole heap of cosmic woozy, more than enough I’m sure you’ll agree, to fry the fringes of any casual passer-by especially those, attuned to the Prana Crafter radar. Finitely balanced as were, on some lunar spinning top, Bell Lungs serve up the sweetly frosted ‘music for jellyfish’, a track so fragile and frail that one suspects the merest nudge might shatter to pieces its snow globed enchantment. Elsewhere and delightfully set to a twinkling kaleidoscopic ghosting, the previously unknown to us Misty Bywater floats past with all the haunted beauty of a love spurned apparition courtesy of ‘the absence’. Awash with the dappling of Angel sighs fused atop a twinkling key cascade that possessed of something of the folk mystic, and something of folk mystic, there’s elegance, neglect and a good deal tearful classicism sweetly burning within this eerie ethereal. Again, a new to us, Slovenska Televiza’s ‘Cuento Polaco’ once tethered, lassoed and wound in from its celestial vacuum, soon begins to descend like some ghostly fog amid which emerges a measured and mercurial futuristic suspense both haunting and bewitching which possessed of an icy grandeur you’d rightly expect to hollow and glacially grace the backdrop to some legendary Hammer House happening. I was certain we’d featured the Widow’s Weeds in previous despatches, but a quick rummage through the archives indicates otherwise. This is simply divine. An airless apparition perhaps more so, a ghost lit hymnal, more mystical folk I’m afraid though on this occasion, darkly daubed and fashioned with a nod to Preterite, also features members of the Kitchen Cynics in the cast. Did we see mention somewhere else, that new Keith Seatman groove is currently simmering on the Castles in Space back burner pencilled for post yuletide release, thought as much. Here found donning his best-est Joe 90 threads for a spot of locked grooved kraut gouged mind-altering trippy. Are you getting the impression at this point that these reviews are getting shorter and a tad impatient, we are fighting fire from two sides if truth be known, on one side, these over-whelming rushes of fatigue, so fast and without warning, it literally take me out of the game and secondly, something far more annoying, the new Omen laptop is now showing keyboard issues when in Word, resulting in stuff coming out like gobbligook. the trials of life. So pressing on before we succumb to sleep onward to Folclore Impressionists whose quite stunning ‘music for television’ arrived delightfully serviced with an 80’s VHS iciness all graced and informed, you’d imagine, by Wendy Carlos’ ‘Tron’ universe. what’s to betting that the Twelve Hour Foundation live somewhere like, say 52 Festive Road, I bet they have a corner shop where you can still buy cola Spangles and Picnic bars and spend their days lost in adventure with only scabby knees, a kazoo and a yellow Chopper bike for amusement. Them’s where the days, the beatings, the canings, the stalking and the flashings and that was just your class mates, the 70’s, how most of us survived it is a thing of constant wonder. where were we, ah the THF folk here with ‘Spiracles’, a vintage slice of childhood bliss, a library lunar very much invested with the influence of Keith Mansfield and Alan Hawkshaw I shouldn’t wonder. More please. Fred und Luna, been a while, serve up the slow burning ‘Afrotonikum’, a more measured melodic than previously that incorporates all manner of subtle afro rythmics and noir soul only to infuse it all with a nifty off centred funk bitten grooving all of which had us imagining Herbie Hancock being given a housey kosmische upgrade. I’m sure that Yumah haven’t so far invaded or arrested our listening space prior to this encounter, ‘shadows in the wind’ is a strange dandy, no instruments just harmonies, three part from what i can make out, all lost in their own moment and seductively converging with a lush rootsy folk ghostly that in truth, had us much recalling a very youthful Stealing Sheep. again, another returning long time no hear, Emily Jones steps to the plate with the deftly teased psych ‘Amber Man’, a slow unfurling nugget that freewheels between moments of dream drift woozy to feel good angular animation, a little something that had our Elephant 6 Collective radar tweaking if i’m being honest, though on further reflection one for those pining the overly long vacation by the Haight-Ashbury. final track time I’m sorry to say,utilising the faintest of brush strokes, it’s as if Simon McCorry has the ability to control the very curve onto which the moon and earth forge their celestial courtship, this is ‘surface detail prelude’, it is immaculate, beyond that there are no more words.

https://woodfordhalse.bandcamp.com/album/undulating-waters-3

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