Concerning field recordings, the classic “some folks got it, some folks don’t” applies now more than ever. Darren Tate undeniably belongs among the ones who “got it”, as validated by this 100-copy CDR released about two years ago on his own label. It’s another stage in an artistic journey that never ceases to amaze in inverse proportion to the paucity of means with which the music is fabricated. The thirty minutes of Late Afternoon encompass specific traits of Tate’s trademark sound: a stabilized hum, the continual urban murmur heard at safe distance, bewitching bird chat (which, in this particular case, include very sweet turtle doves), few touches of instrumental umbrage. Apropos of this, an acoustic guitar – almost certainly miked far and wide – appears at one point with fairly unreadable chords to furnish the whole with enthrallingly resonating auras. These are, more or less, the vital colours; to realize why listening to them is always so rewarding requires just an answer. This Yorkshire gentleman is able to make a predisposed listener feel at home instead of charging his creations with perplexingly abstruse insinuations. Like being summoned forth by a friend with a “look what I’m doing” wink: open windows, instruments, assorted objects, perhaps pencils and crayons scattered around, a cup of tea waiting on the table. No trace of brainless new age paraphernalia in sight, in spite of the mind-relieving attributes of the setting. You really want to stay for a long time in there.