Quiet World

In desperate search of a placation for my internal movements – never mind if I’m reiterating, it’s the aging perhaps – nothing could have worked better than a long-overdue new visit to Quiet World. The label is run by Ian Holloway himself, a man of some repute in the field of substantial ambient thanks to a number of releases – alone, or in couple with names such as good old Darren Tate – that rarely failed to apply a layer of composure inside this listener’s frequently tested guts. Holloway – similarly to all the masters of this game – expertly governs melanges of ripe low frequencies, trembling imagery and psycho-active nebulousness. The 29 minutes of Shard entirely confirm the protagonist’s dexterity: just set the volume at the “tranquillity” level and let the fluids flow from the speakers. Soon enough the music – mostly depicting landscapes of vacillating drones, with sparse percussive/throbbing interferences – will bring a measure of comfort, although not deprived of silent severity. The latter element seems to mirror the grey skies of inherent turmoil which every grounded being would appreciate to leave behind one day.

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