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Artist: Brannan Lane Reviews:
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Think of Tribal Spirit as a "new generation" sequel to Robert Rich's seminal work, Rainforest (minus Rich's flutes and his unique brand of genius). Tribal Spirit may not quite be in the same league as the 1989 recording from Rich, but then what is? And it's damn close at times to Rich's best album to date (which is what I consider Rainforest to be). Without a doubt, I think that Tribal Spirit is closer in feel and sound to Rainforest than it is o yuki conjugate's Peyote (as my friend and ambient artist Richard Bone asserts in the liner notes). There is that same feeling of claustrophobia and humidity that Rainforest is drenched in, owing mostly to Brannan's inventive use of drone-style synths, treatments, and processes. Tom Larson's drumming veers from ecstatic and fiery (such as on the opening track, "Tales of the Rain Forest") to sensuous and primal (on the closing "Two Spirits"). Overall, I liked Tribal Spirit a lot. I listened to it on a long Sunday morning walk (with headphones, of course) and found myself getting lost in the soundscapes and rhythms so that I took little notice of my neighborhood (the 80 degree Fahrenheit temp and high humidity contributed to the immersive experience as well). This is not to say that I can't find a nit to pick with the recording. I would've preferred to have the synths out front on more than the rare occasions when they are, but usually the drums (bongos and other hand drums well as tuned tom-toms, from what I can tell) and percussion (rattles, bell trees, rainsticks, and other ethno-tribal mainstays) dominate the mix. While I love the drums and percussion on the album (and Larson can really whip up a tornado of rhythms, such as on the second part of the first track), I think using the synths a bit more would've introduced a denser texture and evoked a stronger visual sense (as happens on the fourth track, "City of Tombs"). However, as I said, this criticism is both my preference and also is a nit. Tribal Spirit (which consists of five "two-part" tracks) is another huge hit for Brannan Lane and also serves as an introduction to Tom Larson's prodigious drumming skill and artistry. Whether the mildly Bossa Nova-ish (textured with eerie processing and drones) "Nocturnal Vigil" or the gamelan-flavored "City of Tombs" (perhaps my favorite song here, although picking favorites on a Brannan Lane CD is an exercise in frustration), the songs here are all steeped in ethno-tribal spices and flavors. As usual when he chooses to do so, Brannan exercises incredible taste and discretion in the inclusion of nature sound effects (here consisting of birds, insects, rain and water). In a way, this album is a less-melodic but moodier trip down the same alley that another duo (Kudzu and Peter Griggs) traipsed down on their excellent collaboration, Children of the Amazon. However, I still maintain that the best comparison is to Rainforest (especially the latter cuts on that CD, such as "The Raining Room"). The biggest difference between the two would the absence of flutes (which dominate parts of Rainforest) and the preponderance of drums on Tribal Spirit. Within the discography of Brannan Lane, I'd place Tribal Spirit near the top (I prefer it over Troposphere, and I like it as much as, if not more than, Lost Caverns of Thera - which, at times, it's almost as eerie as). Looks like Brannan Lane's conquered yet another subgenre (with very able assistance from Tom Larson, of course). He continues to amaze me with his versatility, talent, and far-reaching artistic vision. This album is easy to recommend!
I was totally blown away by the collaboration between Zero Ohms (Richard Roberts) and Brannan Lane, Soundfall to the Infinite. This is an amazing synthesis of ambient electronics, ethnic percussion (shaker, djembe, rattle, rainstick), flutes, and processing. Lane handles the percussion, synths, processing and treatments, while Roberts/Zero Ohms plays seven kinds of flutes (!), his trademark wind-controlled synthesizer, and also handles some treatments. The album is comprised of three two-part movements. The first is called "Beyond the Dream Garden" with part one being "Beyond" and part two titled (you guessed it) "The Dream Garden." (This pattern holds true for each of the remaining two movements as well). "Beyond the Dream Garden" is fantastic. Melodic yet somewhat droning synths float underneath echoed percussion (a la Rich or Roach) but since the tonality is major key (which was a pleasant surprise), the feeling is not one of shadow but one of hope and warmth - almost evoking the feeling of a Japanese Zen garden or reflection pool. This movement, like the other two, goes patiently through its motions, evolving ever so slowly yet distinctly. The music throughout Soundfall to the Infinite has a discernible (and intoxicating) organic life force. While the CD has to be labeled ambient, I've heard minimal Japanese meditation music that contained the same vibe as some of this does (along with more than a few recordings by ace flute duo Coyote Oldman). The echo effect on the percussion is absolutely perfect, imparting just enough atmosphere without tarnishing the positive vibration with darkness. "Endless Land of Blue Mist" showcases Roberts' prodigious flute talents. Opening with the sounds of waves crashing on the shore (synthesized or treated), the combination of processed bass flute playing and waves (along with background dripping water it sounds like) is both calming and invigorating. Some of the wave effects have a bit of thunderousness to them, which might come across as jarring at first, but it added to the naturalness of the experience to my ears. As the movement progresses, sea birds call to each other and another flute soars delicately over the lower bass flute notes. There is an unforced naturalness to this music (in fact, throughout the CD). This is a different type of ambient music that somehow combines the (dare I say it) healing and melodic tendencies of new age music with the unstructured minimalism of Eno-school ambient music - quite the feat, I think. I also continue to be reminded of Eastern music as well. The movement winds down and the waves are replaced by gently running water (the stereo separation in this section is excellent, by the way). In the second movement, Richard shifts to playing Native American flute (processed and echoed in a Coyote Oldman fashion) with Brannan contributing on rattles. In addition, various ambient textures and treatments, as well as what again sounds like the bass flute lend an air of spaciousness and drifting to the piece. Echoed percussive effects are also used in the cut. The flute playing on this track may be the most out-front of the whole album, and it's haunting in its forlorn quality. The title movement ("Soundfall to the Infinite") closes the album with a thirty-two minute trip into minimal gentle pure ambient territory. In the first section, amidst mild drones, twinkling chimes (like upper register wind chimes), and serene washes of assorted synthesizers, a six-note refrain is played. Bamboo flute (I think) wafts here and there sparingly, introducing another musical element. The subtly evolving piece is the epitome of ambient music, as the various elements combine to perfume the air with a stillness and tranquillity that is almost indescribable. I dislike repeating myself, but I'm consistently put in the mind of sitting by a rock garden, a reflecting pool, or other Eastern meditation environment. This track is easily my favorite, although I love the entire album so it's more a matter of being highly subjective at this point. The final track takes the CD into deep space, opening with long droning washes of synthesizers, a la Serrie, Bowles, and (especially) Telomere. There are also some treatments and textures that impart a vast openness to the music here. At times, the synths sound a bit like overtone singing (such as practiced by Jim Cole) and at other times, the overall sound is closer to traditional - but highly subdued - synth choral work (Larry Kucharz-like). But these comparisons are only for the sake of such, and are not indicative of any copy-catting in the least. The swelling drones and background washes are the closest thing to a "dark" track on this album, but it's probably only neutral in emotional impact, actually. Different elements are brought to the forefront throughout the piece and sometimes the music gets extremely soft and minimal. Then again, when the quasi-overtone singing becomes pronounced, the music is more "there." Soundfall to the Infinite demonstrates the greatness and magic that can come about through collaborative efforts in the ambient genre. Both of these artists have produced magnificent work on their own, but I was unprepared for how sublime this CD is. While I can imagine that some hardcore ambient enthusiasts may be put off by the presence of overt flute music (even though it is wonderfully performed by Roberts) and other listeners may consider the music too close to the spirit of "new age music" (again, a superfluous distinction to my mind, since most new age music has always contained ambient characteristics), I think Soundfall to the Infinite is a modern-day classic. By using elements such as flute, hand percussion, and Eastern textures, Lane and Roberts have created the best of both worlds: the calm serenity of Zen-influenced music with the overall feel and texture of ambient music. I can't recommend the album highly enough and I hope it earns the recognition it deserves.
Brannan Lane, Nashville resident and citizen-of-the-global-musical-village, returns to his roots on Caribbean Dream II: Dreaming Again, the sequel to his acclaimed debut, Caribbean Dream. Once again, this multi-faceted and extremely talented (and humble) musician delivers the goods: smooth tropical ambience, cyber-sultry island rhythms, and warm sunny melodies wafting in like gentle ocean breezes. Also much like his debut, Brannan mixes up tempos, moods, and textures, ranging from Richard Bone-like tropical lounge-jazz (the opening track, "Congo Island") to mysterious and haunting ambient pieces ("Sea Yourself" and its somewhat tribal reprise, "Sea Yourself Too") to island-flavored rhythm-fests ("Until Then [jungle mix]" or the reggae-tinged "Island Hop" and "Reggae Knights"). The album also includes a new version of the track "Caribbean Sea" from the first Caribbean Dream release. Brannan even honors us with his first outright vocal tune, the album closer "Thinkin' Mon." As you can infer from the track's title, this is the most outright reggae number on the album, and what can I tell ya - I've spoken to Brannan on the phone and I sure as hell don't recognize his voice on this song! I'm not going to tell you he's got Bob Marley's pipes, of course. But what the hell - the guy is having a blast on this cut (that's not hard to tell) and ya just gotta get in the swing of it, mon! Merely as a caveat to those of you who detest nature sounds, they are abundant on this fine album (especially birdsong and waves, as you'd expect, along with some nocturnal insects). Myself, I love environmental textures on CDs like this one. For me, they add just the right amount of "being there." I raved about the original Caribbean Dream when it came out, and I'm even more enthusiastic about this follow-up. Brannan's recording abilities (from a technical standpoint) have grown exponentially with each releaser. Engineering is flawless, percussion is expertly recorded and mixed, and his control over his array of keyboards has never sounded better. The first Caribbean Dream was a lot of fun but also a little on the "not-quite-ripe" side. Now that Brannan Lane has matured and "aged," much like fine wine, the musical "flavors" are more complex and more satisfying. Not that this CD isn't still all about havin' a great time. That it is for sure. So, if you're looking for music that brings to mind lazing on the beach, sipping on a cold beverage perhaps (heaven forbid it's alcoholic in nature, of course), and listening to the sounds of waves and wildlife, this here album will serve as your round-trip ticket to the Islands, mon. Now, take off those shoes and stay awhile - no worries here!
Brannan Lane's To Earth and Back is one of those rare ambient recordings that, in my opinion, cannot be fully appreciated or enjoyed as ambient music, per se. I listened to this CD about four times through loud speakers, as ambient music, while performing various activities. I wasn't impressed. Then, I switched to listening (really listening) with headphones. Voila! I was hooked! This is an outstanding release, combining both floating drone-style ambient spacemusic with isolated active passages that contain percussive and dynamic passages. The result is an enveloping auditory experience that, if you listen to it in one sitting, will delight the listener who is seeking a transitory musical experience (hence, the CD's title). "To Earth and Back, Part 1," opens the album with undulating synths drones and wide-stereo panning-effect rustlings and noise treatments. The music itself exists in an emotionally neutral/pure space environment. It's not oppressive but it's not warm either. In short, it's perfect spacemusic. The first cut segues seamlessly into the second ("To Earth and Back Part 2") which becomes more energetic, with added percussive effects overlaid on the bed of drones and rustling shakers. As the drone subsides, other treatments and textures emerge, such as vibrating bell-trees and shakers. The spaciness remains, but the sound is more minimal, less "crowded" than on the first cut. Swirling synthesizer washes encircle the various percussive sounds as the song becomes more and more subdued. As part three of the four-part title track begins, the music stands on the edge of a precipice - strange distorted vocal/spoken word-effects in the background sound like aliens conversing in high-pitched tones (has Brannan been listening to Jean Luc-Herve Berthelot?), while isolated tones fade in and out of the soundfield. Soon, the spoken word samples take on a more human quality, like the recorded conversations from a spacecraft - echoed and distorted. Out of nowhere, loud and kinetic rhythms erupt, polyrhythmic in beats and melded to whirring spacy synthesizers. This is some of the most active EM Brannan Lane has produced. It's not really Berlin-school, but it has the same propulsive driving force behind it. Mysterious shadings to the underlying EM lend an air of menace to the percussion (sounding like sampled ethnic hand instruments). I really liked this section of the CD, although the rest of the album is also enjoyable. The beats recede and are replaced by serene yet disturbing washes of smooth liquid synths. Major chord tonalities lend the music a soft warm glow, quite unlike what has come before. The re-emergence of the spoken words (both human-sounding and the more alien-tinted style) in the background, this time against a softer musical backdrop, takes To Earth and Back into a quasi-SF vein - although I can't explain why I feel this way. The last two selections on the CD are called "Boundless 1" and "Boundless 2." The latter is over twenty-four minutes long! The music is spacious and a perfect combination of spacemusic and ambient sensibilities. This is not Jonn Serrie but it's more than just drone music, too. I can't stress enough that, to my way of thinking, this CD is best appreciated by direct listening. These final two selections are very ambient in their feel and, while they could work just fine as sonic wallpaper, the two tracks are also primo spacemusic and are enjoyable to immerse oneself in. While there are six distinct tracks (time cues) To Earth and Back is, all actuality, a long-form ambient piece of distinct and separate movements. One could experience it and enjoy it as isolated songs, but since there is no silence between selections and some spill-over between selections (as musical themes migrate from cut to cut), I think it's a matter of dedicating the hour it will take to fully appreciate and "take in" the album. That closing track, in particular, is a luxuriously patient descent into spacemusic that is wondrous in its simplicity yet beautiful in its hidden complexity - engineering and mix is spot-on. I can almost "see" the deep blackness of space open before me. Don't forget the title of the CD - "To Earth and Back." Back to where??? Brannan Lane is one the more gifted and versatile artists in ambient music today. His Lost Caverns of Thera is amazing - a truly harrowing experience. To Earth and Back is like going in the opposite direction - instead of tunneling into the ground, we're shooting out into the darkness of outer space. Devoid of either neo-romantic schmaltz or inhuman coldness, the music on To Earth and Back invites the listener to close his/her eyes and cruise the cosmos. Not quite dark ambient, not completely spacemusic, and not as "invisible" as ambient music, the CD is like a sonic tour of our quadrant of the universe. Sometimes frenetic - sometimes warm and inviting - but always consisting of an otherworldly sense of adventure and wonder. This is the genius of Brannan Lane.
Representing a collaborative effort between Brannan Lane and Daniel Byerly - recording here as Lane Formschlag - (two artists whose collective body of work covers everything from progressive rock/fusion to world-flavored adult contemporary to light and dark ambient soundscapes), Two Halves of the Same Side is a "semi-long-form" (two tracks of slightly over twenty-minutes each) ambient recording that, for the most part, is a trip into a shimmering and vast soundscape that carefully balances out warmth and moderate accessibility with darker shadings and glimpses of melancholy and menace. It surprised me to no end when the one album I flashed on during the CD's first track (and a little bit on the second) was Jon Mark's highly-regarded classic, The Standing Stones of Callanish. A mellow layer of keyboards (Daniel or Brannan? It's anyone's guess!) hovers and subtly quavers in the thin air before the (now almost patented) Byerly "chatter" (my description of a heavily-vibrating electronic effect) enters the song. I've gotten used to Daniel's predilection for this sonic shuddering sound and I'll admit that on this album, it fits pretty well. At times, the vibrating sensation is slowed down dramatically, sounding a bit like a sound wave interrupted by a slowly rotating fan. The effect is less jarring or dissonant than you might expect it would be. Since this is "long-form" ambient music, by nature it is evolutionary and is in constant flux. Musical motifs hang around for a while, dissipate, re-emerge from the shadows, and then vanish altogether. Some of these elements are the vibrating synth textures, underlying drones (which on the second track get quite loud at times), and echoed-bells. Because of the fluid nature of the various elements, the album is best enjoyed (in my opinion) at low volumes and played purposely in the background. I listened to it (relatively speaking) during work one day (I work in a small office at a St. Paul, Minnesota university) and enjoyed the casual way the music seeped into the walls of the room, lending the small and cramped atmosphere a bright shiny quality. The music on Two Halves of the Same Side is seldom, if ever, oppressive or dominating. I'll admit to preferring when the drones or warmer synths take center-stage, but the entirety of the album goes down easy enough, and the overall impact of the album is pleasant if not downright enjoyable. The second track may strike some as darker. It starts out with a mid-to-high pitched drone/whine, somewhat like a "musical version" of hearing a subway's brakes as they bring an inbound train to a very slow stop, but when a liquidy series of synths come into play it instantly veers the cut into friendlier territory before surrendering the impetus to the Byerly "chatter." The above-mentioned "louder" moments in this cut act as further inducement (to my way of thinking) for playing this album at a lower volume setting. While the actual "music" on the recording is almost nothing like that of James Johnson, Stephen Philips or Darshan Ambient, Two Halves of the Same Side mines the same vein, i.e. trying to work its magic on the listener completely unconsciously. If my experiment at school was an indication, it succeeds in that regard. While ostensibly this CD is mostly a series of drones and textures, there is more than enough variety here to avoid it sounding too much like white noise. And, don't forget, there's always those wonderful Jon Mark-like chords to look forward to as well! Hats off to both Brannan and Daniel for a solid addition to the ever-growing number of successful ambient collaborations recently released.
Brannan Lane, one of my favorite artists, reveals himself to be a master of spacy floating keyboards on his latest release, Sleep Cycle. Intended (I would assume) to be a sleep-aiding ambient recording, as well as a literal musical portrait of sleep (liner notes detail the various aspects of the sleeping human consciousness), Sleep Cycle is serene and quite beautiful at times, yet wholly embraces its immersion into the electronic side of keyboard music. No piano or synthesized real instruments here. Not as ethereal pr "new agey" as the work of, for example, Liquid Mind, the CD is also less minimal than recent releases from James Johnson, although the latter explores some of the same sonic territory. By less minimal I mean that the music is fairly consistently "present" and long silences are infrequent, if not almost totally absent. There is always the presence of at least a low drone or a series of washes. Beginning with the spacy "Cycle of Nod," which mixes nocturnal nature sounds with a series of drones and washes, (and, by the way, the nocturnal sounds run throughout the album, in case that's a turn off for some of you out there reading this) the album is off to a fine start. Sometimes, more "musical" elements (e.g. synth strings) are used in the piece, but mostly the music is closer to classic spacemusic than it is to what passes for ambient music these days. Washes of synthetic whooshing intermix with the more overtly musical elements and a nice blend of the two musical stylings runs throughout the CD. As he did on both of his other more "ambient" recordings (Lost Caverns of Thera and Troposphere) Brannan has fashioned this as a continuous play album, although there are separate cuts and subtle shifts in tone and mood as one goes from one track to the other. Yet, even moreso than the aforementioned other two recordings, Sleep Cycle plays through remarkably easily. "Slow Wave Sleep" has a warm retro feel to its synths, peppered with flitting synthetic textures here and there (nicely echoed, too). "Sleep Spindles (Stage One)" opens with shadowy (yet never sinister) keyboards in a combination of washes, chords, and drones, but there is a softer feel to this cut as it develops, even as an occasional "spike" of drama erupts in the piece (erupts is a bad choice of words, because it's certainly not disruptive to the song's mood). "Suspension of Consciousness" is even dreamier than what has come before. Pillow soft breaths of electronics, almost eerily human-like, hover underneath long drawn out washes and sustained chords. For all I know, it is the sound of someone breathing while deep in sleep. "K-Complexes" is a bit mysterious, but, as Brannan puts it in the liner notes, "I intentionally made this project softer and more warm sounding than my previous releases." As a result, even when the music creeps slowly into more shadowy soundscapes, the overall feel is less of menace or even foreboding as it is of something more relaxed in nature. I won't detail the remaining five selections (preferring to let you experience them firsthand) except to say that Brannan exercises the height of subtlety and nuance in his slow evolution from cut to cut on Sleep Cycle. The use of assorted wind chimes (which may be the only non-electronic music on the album, if my ears don't deceive me) on later cuts is masterfully sublime. They add just the right amount of lightness to counterbalance the spacier electronics. Sleep Cycle, while as a whole remarkably cohesive, also contains marked distinctions between tracks. Of course, the music throughout is so electronically blissful that even adroit listeners would have to be concentrating to the point of distraction to isolate (to any great degree) the specific variations from song to song. Comparisons could be made, I suppose, to any of the great spacemusic or overtly electronic ambient artists out there, although truthfully, I can't make one (a comparison, that is) that I feel does this CD justice. Truthfully, I think Brannan has delivered a original and stunning "wholly" electronic album (with the exception of those nature sounds and the wind chimes, assuming they're not synthesized). Gentle in feel, beautiful in execution, yet never the least bit overly sweet or too romantic, the music on Sleep Cycle is as close as you can get to thoroughly "synthy" electronic music (without introducing a traditional melodic element) yet still possessing an abundant and tangible sense of humanity and warmth. That's quite an achievement. Of course, Brannan has impressed me multiple times already, so I shouldn't be that surprised at how great Sleep Cycle is. This guy is (to borrow the Todd Rundgren album title) A Wizard...A True Star. Highly recommended!
Following hot on the heels of his excellent ambient noir release, Lost Caverns of Thera, the amazingly versatile Brannan Lane has released still another premier ambient recording, Troposphere. But, where Lost Caverns...was dark and foreboding and organic in feel, Troposphere is more spacy and ethereal. In short, this is a must have (as much as some people discount my use of the term) for fans of spacemusic as well as those who like their ambient music filled with washes of synthesizers and pillows of floaty keyboards. Troposphere has as its theme the musical interpretation of the various layers of Earth's atmosphere, from the close-in layer which the CD is named for, to the upper edge where Earth's atmosphere meets deep space, the "Thermosphere." And while each of the four "layers" on the CD (which have two songs each) are distinct, they flow together to form a wonderful "whole" much like the way the layers of the atmosphere merge seamlessly into one another as one leaves Earth's surface. The recording begins with the sound of rain and a crack of thunder, which is soon joined by the almost plaintive sigh of a synthesizer, not really mournful, but almost sad in its emotional weight. Immediately in evidence on this song (and which is sustained throughout Troposphere) is Brannan's usual expert blending of various keyboards as well as his faultless engineering. Much like Lost Caverns of Thera, this is one incredible listen on headphones! The twinkling bell-like synths, synth strings, and patient washes all sound exquisite. While there are "cues" (cuts) on the recording, as I stated above, Troposphere actually is one long slowly evolving work (again, like Lost Caverns...). The shift, for example, from "Troposphere" to "Mesosphere" is semi-abrupt but seems to come about subtly just the same. This next "layer" is mysterious and combines low register drones and chords with spacy "fluttering" effects and the sound of cymbals. A vague melody line comes into the piece, but it continues in a slightly dark mood just the same, combining with the "fluttering" to paint a portrait of a cold place (this is the layer of the atmosphere where ice clouds form, per the liner notes). As the two-part song progresses, synth choruses lend an ethereal lightness to the oppression. The music heads into a higher-pitched realm (evoking an image of the atmosphere thinning, perhaps?). The song becomes awash with swirling synths and lush synth strings as it warms in feeling considerably. Before heading into the "Thermosphere" and "Stratosphere," Brannan features a three-part song called "Odyssea" which begins with exotic bird song and eventually features layer upon layer of spacy synths and swooshing effects, reminding me somewhat of vintage Serrie at times. But this is the only song on the CD that I was conscious of a comparison to another artist. Troposphere is a highly original work, as it explores a unique interpretation of both spacemusic and ambient music. Part of this is due to the selection of synth sounds that Brannan uses; the other is the structure of the album itself, namely disparate cuts that still work together cohesively. One of my favorite layers is "Thermosphere" with its delicate twinkling bells, although the left-to-right panning on this "song" (something Brannan featured on Caribbean Dream as well) is so severe at times that on headphones it's distracting. But on room speakers, the extreme separation is less pronounced. "Thermosphere" is full of drones, echoing synths, and lots of spacemusic touches. "Stratosphere" ends the album with warm washes of keyboards married to subtle gongs, triangles, and bell-like synth tones. With the release of both Troposphere and Lost Caverns of Thera in the same year(!), Brannan Lane cruises into the upper echelons of new and exciting artists in the spacemusic and ambient genres. I have said of Brannan that he apparently can do no wrong. He has conquered world fusion (Caribbean Dream), jazz (Blueprint) and now he has delivered a one-two punch to spacemusic/ambient with the two recordings mentioned above. Oh man, what if this guy can sing, too?
Lost Caverns of Thera is, easily, keyboardist Brannan Lane's most ambitious work. It's his first crack at ambient music (aside from one or two cuts on Caribbean Dream) and it is a winner, plain and simple. The music on the CD is, by and large, extremely minimal and has a strong organic feel to it owing to the presence of nature sounds (most notably the sound of water dripping in underwater caverns) as well as an undercurrent that is downright creepy at times. Yet I don't know as I would say this is dark ambient music either. It's more drenched (pun semi-intended) in an explorative mystery vibe than anything else. The preceding statement is not indicative of me being a genius, either. There are extensive liner notes about the "whys and wherefores" of this album, which I refuse to divulge here since it's too cool to read the notes as one hears the music for the first time. Using an assortment of keyboards and exotic (and mostly tribal, if not downright primal) percussion, Brannan has delivered an album that does what few recordings can do as well as Lost Caverns of Thera does, i.e. take the listener on an almost palpable voyage. It's easy to close my eyes (or turn the lights out) and visualize myself in these caves. YIKES! Well, forget what I said about the music not being scary. It's actually more than a little unnerving to hear all the maxi-echoed clickings, clackings, drippings and ploppings, all with an undercurrent of what sound like the sighing of Mother Earth herself at times! The synths sometimes have a deeply resonating bell-like quality to them, but done in a minor key so that all trace of "light" is absent from the tone. All in all, the result is both beautiful and menacing at the same time. I'd say that this music bears some resemblance to the more "subterranean" work from artists like Robert Rich, Steve Roach, and Lightwave. It's not as dissonant as the Germans, not as organic as Robert and not as tribal as Steve. Instead, it's a hybrid that won me over on first listen. That's a real testament for such a minimal and ambient album (sometimes, all you hear are the water droplets echoing into the distance...until an ominous wail or "thud" comes out of nowhere, that is!). With many ambient recordings, it can five or six listens before I "get it." Not with this one, though. In fact, I can't imagine for the life of me that fans of Soma, Caverns of Sirens, Well of Souls, A Troubled Resting Place, or Tycho Brahe would not enjoy this album (although, Lightwave's's sound is not as sparse as this recording is at times). While there are actual "cuts" on Lost Caverns of Thera, and the music does indeed evolve over the course of its sixty-plus minutes, the album is more like Rich's and Lustmord's Stalker. The "songs" are more or less just "cues" for CD players. To not play this album in its entirety significantly lessens the impact. (Boy, the song "Death from Above" sure gets creepy at the end...I forgot just how much so until I revisited it just now). "Into the Light" (clocking in at eleven-plus minutes) closes the album and if you were expecting some kind of triumphant fanfare-like song, forget it. You do finally hear something cheery in the way of birds, and the flowing of water seems to indicate that you are coming near the surface, perhaps into a grotto or cave opening into the sea, but the musical mood is still one of reverence and subtle awe. Eventually, the music disappears, replaced by more water and bird noises, until later in the cut when a shimmering series of synths emerge (the sun?). I'm not sure how I feel about this as a climax to the album. Thematically, it fits perfectly. But I'm left a little bit unfulfilled. Not enough to change my mind about the CD, though. I'd rank this as one of the better ambient releases of 2000. Brannan Lane has revealed his talent in three distinct genres of music now. Troposphere, his fourth release, is coming out soon, and if I understand the liner notes correctly, it'll be his first foray into spacemusic. After absorbing Lost Caverns of Thera more than a few times, and feeling its ability to transport me into the depths of the earth so vividly, I have no doubt that whatever genre Brannan tackles next will have met its match. Apparently, the guy can do no wrong.
For the follow-up to his acclaimed album Caribbean Dream, keyboardist Brannan Lane has recorded a personal project that must be very dear to his heart. Blueprint is an homage to, as well as a remembrance of, his deceased father, Stan Lane, who was a jazz musician (sax and clarinet) with the group The Moonlighters. In addition, Stan's own playing graces a few cuts as well. Combining elements of jazz, jazz fusion, blues, retro-jazz (a la Richard Bone) and Brannan's own uniquely accessible brand of adult contemporary music, Blueprint is warm and rich and yields a satisfying blend of tunes. In addition to Brannan and Stan, Canadian keyboardist Dino Pacifici guest stars on electric guitar (and does a bang up job of it too). All of the songs are originals written by Brannan, except for the second cut, which he co-wrote with his father. The album kicks off in high fashion with "Resurrection," a sax riff-filled piece that wails up a storm. Stan's sax soars and Brannan pounds the keys for all his worth. His synth vibes light up the cut with a vibrancy that gets the album off to a great start. His Fender Rhodes-like patch is tasty too. The jointly-penned "Blueprint," is a bluesy duet between piano and both sax and clarinet, with some other keyboard textures added at times, such as chimes. While I refer to the piece as blues, it could also be interpreted as a slow tempo slice of classic New Orleans jazz as well. Stan's sax and clarinet playing are filled with longing and a smoky sensuality. I wish I could have heard him and The Moonlighters live. I'll bet they played a mean set! "Blue By U" (the song starts off with some recorded frogs and crickets, so I hope you get the pun) features Brannan's signature breezy easy way with melody and rhythm that he showcased on Caribbean Dream. This guy can write a hook - believe you me! Synth horns, piano, and high-end synth chorus carry the song along at a brisk clip. Midway through the cut, Dino Pacifici's very tasteful guitar licks bring a groove-oriented texture to the song. Very nicely done, you two! "Your Blueness" has a funky/jazz beat to it, featuring drums, piano and keys and more graceful picking from Mr. Pacifici (maybe I should start calling him the new Wes Montgomery since Dino's exhibition of nuance bring the late great Wes to mind). Other songs on the album remind me of personal favorites such as Richard Bone ("Poltergeist" would fit in nicely on Coxa, with its retro jazz feel and cocktail lounge vibe) and Tom Scott and the LA Express circa Tom Cat ("Miss You" with uptempo but snaky rhythms and a night-time "catting around" feel to it). The second-to-last cut is one more number by Stan Lane, the somber tone-poemish sax solo "Goodbye" (the sax is heavily reverbed/echoed to lend the song an emotional depth that is spine-tingling). "Rest In Peace," the album closer, is an eight-plus minute melodic space/ambient cut featuring Brannan on an assortment of electronic keyboards (synth bells, synth washes, synth choruses, delicate plucked strings). Talk about a perfect ending selection. The song has a slight jazz feel to it, but it is muted beneath the billowy synths and ethereal bells. I can sense the spirit of Stan's jazzy soul mixing with Brannan's more "new age" style keyboards to yield a hybrid that celebrates both their passions. Besides being a great tribute album from a son to his father, Blueprint is further proof that Brannan Lane is a keyboard artist of many talents and possessing a natural warmth and sincerity that is sometimes lacking in this music. Much like Caribbean Dream, Blueprint put a smile on my face even while its inspiration reminded me of how much I miss my own father, as well. Brannan, if you don't mind my saying this, I think Stan is beaming with pride from up above - when he's not blowing his sax alongside Gabriel, that is!
Richard Bone&emdash;move over! You've got some company in the land of "Let's Have Some Fun Tonight!" This debut recording from keyboardist Brannan Lane is a blast from start to finish. Bearing a passing resemblance to the aforementioned Mr. Bone's fantastic release of last year Electropica, Caribbean Dream is a breath of fresh air with its infectious rhythms, island textures, and overall good nature. Brannan handles the assorted "Latin percussion" with a deft hand (especially the steel drums and bongos) and his synth playing is first-rate. While a few cuts are more laid back (one or two might even be considered "tropical ambient"), the higher energy stuff here is what cleans my clock! With sixteen tracks on this CD, there is something for everyone, assuming you want to bring some cheer and good times to your listening experience (even the ambient tracks are not what I would call dark by any stretch of the imagination). Truthfully, I have played Caribbean Dream many times over and I always have a great time. Production values are very good (although the left-to-right panning on one or two songs is a bit busy). That's a nit, though. This is as much fun as you can have without being on the beach, sipping a Margarita, and listening to a live steel drum band. Sourpusses need not apply, but for everyone else&emdash;highly recommended! |