The latest Loscil release stems from an intriguing proposition; have a twenty-two-piece orchestra play a three-minute composition, press it onto acetate and sample the end result after a little abuse, and use that as the basis for ten long drifting pieces.
In general, Clara is a sedate album, initially evoking the slow ebb and flow of waves on an empty beach, but a sea that over millennia has become so infused with salt that the waves are sluggish, almost viscous. Over this placid landscape, a late winter sun, all pale and silvery, gradually climbs. Here and there are beats of a kind, but they feel so removed from reality, they drift in a kind of opiate haze, a prehuman dawn highlighted by an out of phase synth line that dares to dream.
As it progresses, elements are introduced; so although the pace is glacial, textures start to appear, unfolding like desert flowers and then slowly receding as the sun passes over them. Here and there you gain a sense of the source material; a subtle waft of violin, a gentle sweep of strings or the bubble of a zither, but the modifications are so extreme, it becomes something so different. When those swells do appear, they really stand out, bringing a sense of unexpected drama. As you settle into the album, it feels as though your heart rate is slowing down, and the more you listen and allow yourself to become immersed, the more you start to pinpoint little details, as if your ears are becoming attuned to what Scott Morgan is trying to do. You find yourself hanging on the little flourishes and being surprised at the more animated pieces.The dappled spots of synth on “Sol” are particularly engaging and the impression is that of travelling under a canopy of trees, a definite sense of movement that passes as the elegiac tone returns. There is a sadness at work here — or if not sadness, then an undefined melancholy or stasis that is not unpleasant. “Flamma” contains the hint of an awakening to something; unsteady steps and the feeling of looking around and seeing things for the first time, everything flowing into view as your vision and hearing assimilate the changes.
The album’s enveloping depth is oddly comforting; as you are drawn in, some patterns settle in your mind, rather like sitting at the beach and watching the tide roll in and then out, and then in again. Much time might have passed, but it is so engrossing you don’t notice. You will come to after an hour or so of Clara and happily just press play again.-Mr Olivetti-
