Island People - Island People - www.fluid-radio.co.uk
Effusion is a drug, but only when internalised. Rejection is life not cohering, telling us we're finished...
Projected to external reality, which is better? Something erudite comes from imagining the outcome, I would like to think.
We know ideas need mother nature. Literally, crops over waste. Exiting the humble beginning is driven by a consciousness.
I sometimes think of islands as drugs and consciousness objectified...they are refuges. But also, they can be mundane. The
British Isles is an island, after all, one of many in the world's tectonic land. Island People is an massive and just as mundane act name for this reason, because these are common matters...at least it's familiar, like a local pub inlet, though.
The first track I select at random as a sample is the fifth: "From The Sky". Sounds like Alva Noto and Robert Davies. Calm and
illustriously detailed. Nice ground powder voices blow in the breeze, like tumbleweeds in a desert. Sounds special. So I shift to
the start of the record before 3 minutes are up, and play it through. Turns out to be something very fine and mellifluous.
Only, the album actually preceded with dub sounds; an undulating bass pattern, small glimmers of synth, Oval-like drone
crickets and percussive rotor blades. The imagery is a Chinook levitating across an airbase. Hope glimmers in its crystal form.
"Colour District", piece two commences more vivaciously. Some bubbling atmospheres, some new age pads, some key fluctuations, some reverb razzmatazz. The record succeeds on this case basis: it has a strong set of diametric contours. The use of varied metre and
contradistinctions between weight, presence, optimal melodic temperature to run a groove like a lock on a vinyl tape machine, an
elicit colour wash to the overall opacity of the output, stands to reason with Island People. These people have produced some
pellets for the pigeons Peregrines and Kestrels in the skies above to grow fat with, to fill up their plumage with. Drones of a
feather, so to speak, flock together, and by the time "Vultures And Doves" arrives we have another aerial string to the bow,
shot by an archangel from purgatory into a wider tectonic set of plates, refusing to gather dust as they cohere like objects on
a dining room table.
"Thought I Knew You", the tune that arrives forthwith, injects a little extra charisma to that very Aphex-y palette of the much
compared Selected Ambient Works series, but the comparison is only really notable because of the acid ambient elements. Still,
I make a point...isn't that mundanity altogether? The musing is a preordained way of really "housing" a concept for absolution and extrapolation...but what does that even mean? This means in short that the brain can get carried away in temporal signposting, whereas this music is completely intuitive, a finger-on-pulse anti-grandeur, a humility about the whole shebang, is very resonant. Joining up with "From The Sky" where I began, the bulk of the music combines together beautifully. It has a sort of conglomerate cluster effect, like layers of Neapolitan ice cream in the same box.
A general natural ordinance is upheld, there is no specific structure throughout, only drift, but this effect creates meaning, creates acquiescence. In short, I adore this record. I've been listening to it when I cannot sleep unconsciously around 4am each morning on headphone. It has a really lovely, garlicky potency to it, or the heat of a light chilli: strong, but not enough to overpower. Would it not
be wonderful if, despite the icky sentiment, if all the Island People of the world could live in peace for once to sounds like this. It's a bit John Lennon - Imagine, isn't it? Well, I'm not middle class and this sound set isn't sickly...I guess the only differences we can really uncover in mind drugs and finishing ideas is to have them form a land mass, an island, all of their own making, every time we dream...every time we sleep.
Mick Buckingham
Effusion is a drug, but only when internalised. Rejection is life not cohering, telling us we're finished...
Projected to external reality, which is better? Something erudite comes from imagining the outcome, I would like to think.
We know ideas need mother nature. Literally, crops over waste. Exiting the humble beginning is driven by a consciousness.
I sometimes think of islands as drugs and consciousness objectified...they are refuges. But also, they can be mundane. The
British Isles is an island, after all, one of many in the world's tectonic land. Island People is an massive and just as mundane act name for this reason, because these are common matters...at least it's familiar, like a local pub inlet, though.
The first track I select at random as a sample is the fifth: "From The Sky". Sounds like Alva Noto and Robert Davies. Calm and
illustriously detailed. Nice ground powder voices blow in the breeze, like tumbleweeds in a desert. Sounds special. So I shift to
the start of the record before 3 minutes are up, and play it through. Turns out to be something very fine and mellifluous.
Only, the album actually preceded with dub sounds; an undulating bass pattern, small glimmers of synth, Oval-like drone
crickets and percussive rotor blades. The imagery is a Chinook levitating across an airbase. Hope glimmers in its crystal form.
"Colour District", piece two commences more vivaciously. Some bubbling atmospheres, some new age pads, some key fluctuations, some reverb razzmatazz. The record succeeds on this case basis: it has a strong set of diametric contours. The use of varied metre and
contradistinctions between weight, presence, optimal melodic temperature to run a groove like a lock on a vinyl tape machine, an
elicit colour wash to the overall opacity of the output, stands to reason with Island People. These people have produced some
pellets for the pigeons Peregrines and Kestrels in the skies above to grow fat with, to fill up their plumage with. Drones of a
feather, so to speak, flock together, and by the time "Vultures And Doves" arrives we have another aerial string to the bow,
shot by an archangel from purgatory into a wider tectonic set of plates, refusing to gather dust as they cohere like objects on
a dining room table.
"Thought I Knew You", the tune that arrives forthwith, injects a little extra charisma to that very Aphex-y palette of the much
compared Selected Ambient Works series, but the comparison is only really notable because of the acid ambient elements. Still,
I make a point...isn't that mundanity altogether? The musing is a preordained way of really "housing" a concept for absolution and extrapolation...but what does that even mean? This means in short that the brain can get carried away in temporal signposting, whereas this music is completely intuitive, a finger-on-pulse anti-grandeur, a humility about the whole shebang, is very resonant. Joining up with "From The Sky" where I began, the bulk of the music combines together beautifully. It has a sort of conglomerate cluster effect, like layers of Neapolitan ice cream in the same box.
A general natural ordinance is upheld, there is no specific structure throughout, only drift, but this effect creates meaning, creates acquiescence. In short, I adore this record. I've been listening to it when I cannot sleep unconsciously around 4am each morning on headphone. It has a really lovely, garlicky potency to it, or the heat of a light chilli: strong, but not enough to overpower. Would it not
be wonderful if, despite the icky sentiment, if all the Island People of the world could live in peace for once to sounds like this. It's a bit John Lennon - Imagine, isn't it? Well, I'm not middle class and this sound set isn't sickly...I guess the only differences we can really uncover in mind drugs and finishing ideas is to have them form a land mass, an island, all of their own making, every time we dream...every time we sleep.
Mick Buckingham