The challenging game of association of sounds and memories requires players capable of eliminating catchpenny humor altogether without transcending into “gratuitously miserable” orchestration. The latter word was chosen on purpose, for Janek Schaefer – a man who deals with aural remembrance since the beginning – seems over the years to have slightly changed his approach to composition. The foggy wholeness of nostalgic visions has become a veritable ensemble of mnemonic snapshots, each of them characterized by the voice of a spirit that can’t help looking back in mild unhappiness.
In this particular case, the reduced length of many of the 26 fragments attributing Glitter In My Tears its form prevents the listener from remaining fossilized within a mental frame. This album conveys a sense of uneasy sleep affected by regretful flashes and childhood-related retentions; more than in previous fluxes of dissolving unspoken feelings, Schaefer leaves a few acoustic details clearer, almost there to be memorized if only for a short while. He utilizes at best the mechanics of looping, managing to enhance a harmonic shade here and a glowing light there. At the same time, the music retains the engrossing qualities of sonic dispersion, projecting poignant echoes and staggering resonances that come and go – sometimes in a matter of seconds – against the stark walls of a future nobody looks forward to.
The composer writes “based on a true story” at the end of the liner notes. We never had a doubt about this. That story may very well be that of his own entire life to date, or just an episode giving impulse to the painful firmness shown by genuinely sensible beings when shallow people, or the circumstances of a crude reality, try to steal innocence from their innermost nucleus. In Schaefer’s work the escape route from bitter truth to fugitive alleviation – which, at any rate, always transits across profound somberness – is masterfully represented. A priceless aid, in this day and age.