I was walking down this path. It reminded me of a scene from Labyrinth or The Dark Crystal (ever notice how these movies, although very different, often get lumped together?). Fallen logs were well into decay, transforming into tube-shaped mossy lumps with saplings sprouting from their moldered remains. Then I ran into this lady wearing some ear buds and looking very contemplative. She had on a tweed vest, a beautiful dark wool skirt that had been fantastically appliqued, and some worn-out slip-ons. She remarked on how she had found a promotional copy of a new CD by what seemed on the surface to be a self-obsessed bundle of pretension floating in a sea of avant-garde intention from Daniel O’Sullivan (Guapo, Sunn O))), Miasma & The Carousel of Headless Horses).
Then she passed the ear buds my way, and I took a moment out of my walk to examine this album. It has all the earmarks of a composer’s work. Stoic strings, far-away vocals, poetic lyricism, slow, plodding melodies. Excellently paced and well-produced electric passages that suggest all the classic greats of instrumental post-rock and orchestral modern keyboard balladry are enough to warrant a closer look. Perhaps final judgment should be reserved for after experiencing the live version.
Then I got bored. I eventually realized I was listening to the tight-pants version of dentist-office jazz, and there happened to be something over there that distracted me -- I think it was a squirrel or small bird -- so I gave the headphones back to the girl. Maybe I was missing something, but after that much serious music, I needed something lighter (perhaps the Cyndi Lauper tape I found at the thrift store). I did a cartwheel and went on my merry way, remembering how nice Mothlight sounded for a second before I eventually found myself interested in other things.
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