There are countless aural colorations and inherent rhythms in life; many people overlook them while searching for absolute truths. A predisposition to welcome the multifarious sonorities of reality is all it takes to forget about philosophical doctrines and existential doubts once and for all. I mean, it’s all so very clear; how can one not perceive those moving particles? Why not starting to interact with them to get positively influenced?
Paul Lytton – like every (rare) wise being, a man who speaks only when the time is right – has produced this album after 36 years from his last solitary effort. In its eight tracks a focused listener can distinguish all sorts of sonic microorganisms fusing, singing, splitting and fighting inside variegated surroundings. Each title investigates assorted types of composite resonance, their fragmentary intensity conveying the picture of a now flabbergasted, now hyperactive population.
Lytton dismembers drum sets and regular percussive devices, extracting grace from awkwardness. The computerized/electronic equipment which constitutes an integral part of his palette bends, in any case, to the rules of acoustic pureness. In this realm, grating and swift, boisterous and delicate, compulsive and reflective weigh exactly the same. We discern curious utterances, fluid bubbles, unlikely echoes, the dampness of some forlorn cellar, the madness of intoxicated springs. The essence of a rhythmical cycle as normally sensed is severely jeopardized; the average academician would stick a label of “impropriety” on several of the schismatic approaches utilized by the Londoner.
That this music helps to unlock our mind from the triteness of ordinary methods of communication is an obvious statement. Amidst hundreds of possible directions, nothing sounds hesitant or indistinct. The sureness of the movement; the acceptation of the consequence. Democracy as it should really be, portrayed by an inquisitive individuality.