I was disappointed to discover that Theta Seven will be the last outing for the Orchestra Of The Upper Atmosphere, but it might be due to the group’s remit of “proposing an alternative reality in which all notions of common sense have been eradicated” is no longer relevant.
Our world or our current reality seems to have lost all notion of common sense. As we spiral into a new form of global chaos, the tentative introduction on this final album finds the eight players as ever gradually revealing themselves, sounds expanding like ripples in a pool until a measured beat and Terry Todd‘s cavernous bass bring a touch of funk, with saxophone stark against piano drops. Their richness is gradually unveiled as Jan Todd‘s warm, honeyed tones hover with Yvonne Magda‘s violin streaking in the sky, sharing motifs with eager horns.
It is a warm introduction to a selection of pieces that are more succinct than appeared on Theta Five and appear to have a little more structure than on 2023’s Theta Six, so the rhythm section is integral, adding heft where necessary but also textural lightness in the more abstract sections. On “Billy Bang / One Golden Hour”, electronics confound against a a gluey rhythm that finds Yvonne’s stuck gypsy violin unwinding over the rolling rock drama of drums. Their lack of guitar offers the players greater freedom, and instead Jan’s esoteric selection of instruments provides other less travelled avenues. Thanks to Martin Archer‘s editing abilities, the tracks segue subtly and the whole appears as a suite of sorts, making for a consuming whole, gradually flooding the listener as they lose track of time, but never overwhelming. There is little opportunity to do anything else as you listen and the waves of ideas arrive, then ebb, awaiting a groove to sweep in and draw us along.Elsewhere, as on “Cold Mariana / Lunar Eye”, textural abstraction draws us into a sense of unknown; the sparkle of waves and the long-distance communication of waterborne creatures summons another deeper place involving electronic specks and the watery wash of harp. “Moonride” however, is the antithesis; a jazzy piano drama of Andy Peake‘s instigation, with Jan’s vocals more engaged. There is a night sky glow to the piano and the skipping double bass of Lorin Halsall really lends pace.
So it goes; the electronic waves of “Aether: Bringer Of Light” trade structure for a voice lost in the drifting ambience of a synth haze. Jan’s voice is distant, bouncing off long-dead satellites, the threat of proximity brief then gone once again; while “Unbound” has the slightest of tethers, elastic bass and voice stretched, coated over a jagged bed of sounds. Shortwave shocks open “Oumuama”, which has more vocal-led abstraction and the distant cry of strings, while piano and melodica introduce their cover of Sun Ra‘s “That’s How I Feel”. There is a sense of familiarity in its space jazz groove and a feeling of joy, with everyone locked in to the sinuous motion. It feels like a well-loved meandering path leading to a favoured place that tries to prepare for the final farewell; a violin and guzheng duet that revisits the opening ideas. They gently step around one another, evoking sparks of light and maybe a brief tear before coming to an end.I know that the assorted players here all have other vehicles for their musical wanderings, but there was something about this particular meeting of minds that guaranteed an adventure like no other. Obviously Theta Seven is an essential addition to their catalogue, but it makes me want to revisit the earlier albums as well to remember how the journey started.
-Mr Olivetti-
