Buried Treasure
Named after a sunken granite reef in the Celtic sea, Haig Fras takes this remote place as a source of inspiration, to sonically spill in a subterfuge of folding texture and swifting aquatics bleached in a Derek Jarman-esque gleam. Part Urthona, part Téléplasmiste, Neil Mortimer and Mark Pilkington seamlessly blend a perfect whole here, giving a salty glimpse of things to come (I do believe).
“Labadie Banks”‘ otherness origamis your head beautifully, like a slow erosion of the
Tales Of The Unexpected theme tune that swamps your consciousness in eddying currents and flinting circulars. An opulence that the liquid contours of
Aaron Thomason‘s (Sun Moth) cover seem to follow,
visually vortexed in smudged gravities and sandy phantoms.
This is an essence the flip-side “Sea Pen” continues, a little more submerged — lamentful even — compared to the bewitchment of the first track, as its watery wooshes burrow into that casseroled drone, a lullaby whose
choral underlings pull you towards its silent grave.
This is a compelling listen, both in concept and execution, and a treasure indeed.
-Michael Rodham-Heaps-
Named after a sunken granite reef in the Celtic sea, Haig Fras takes this remote place as a source of inspiration, to sonically spill in a subterfuge of folding texture and swifting aquatics bleached in a Derek Jarman-esque gleam. Part Urthona, part Téléplasmiste, Neil Mortimer and Mark Pilkington seamlessly blend a perfect whole here, giving a salty glimpse of things to come (I do believe).
