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Artist: Stephen Philips Reviews:
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Stephen Philips has released the latest in his exploration of long form deep ambient music with Cycles 4 - over one hour of slowly evolving circular ambient textures that unfold ultra-patiently. Some passages are quite minimal (the album begins with what sounds like the humming of machinery) while other sections introduce distinct yet subtle musical elements, elevating the album from mere background vibration into a more "active" form of sonic wallpaper (meant in the best possible sense of the term, by the way). Philips introduces his various textures, drones, and musical phrases with a deliberate slow pace. Some of these various ambient textures and elements include deep rumbling low piano (?) notes, echoed fuzzy noises, lower register bell-like tones (think Lost at Dunn's Lake - Philips's collaboration with James Johnson), sonar-like blips, spacy noise effects, and still more. Some "warm" major-key floating keyboards (similar to what Philips used on his album Desert Landscapes) are also present at times. At other times, the assorted droning effects are all that is heard. Still later, repeated series of synth notes are used (reminding me of Aphex Twin's SAW II). Toward the recording's end, the drone become almost the only thing going on, as it slowly rises and falls in pitch, or blends with other minimal textures. As the album concludes, a cushion of lush synth washes adds just the right "note" of musicality to the climax. The net result of all this can be appreciated on two levels. As a subliminal or unconscious recording, Cycles 4 has an overall soft glowing feel to it, but I am at a loss to try to explain why I believe this is the case. It's (the music) completely transparent, but those bell tones impart a feeling of comfort (or they do for me, at least) even amidst the more minimal and (at times) machine-like nature of some of the CD's passages. Listening to Cycles 4 in a direct manner, however, may prove to be daunting unless you turn off the lights and keep interruptions to a minimum. At those times when the music is most minimal (being more or less a series of repeated electronic effects) it may prove vexing to concentrate on it if anything else contends for the listener's attention. However, if one was able to become immersed in the recording, it could prove to be a relaxing or meditative listening experience. The album is not "dark," in the traditional sense (if at all, actually). It's mostly neutral (except, and I hate to sound like a broken record, for the sporadic bell tones). And maybe that's the point, yes? Purest ambient music (if one follows Brian Eno's lead) is not about anything as overtly conscious as having an emotional impact. With a recording like Neroli (or Cycles 4), the only emotional resonance will be whatever the listener brings with him or her. This relatively new genre of long-form ambient music (although Philips has been at it for awhile) is extremely difficult to review. Traditional approaches to written music criticism are pointless. How does one describe sixty-minutes of tiny course corrections (to use a sailing metaphor)? And when the music is deliberately ambiguous from an emotional standpoint, as it is here, it gets even more problematic. This CD will not make you "feel better" or "feel" anything, probably. Which is not to say it's not worthwhile. Frankly, when I'm in the mood for something like this, Stephen Philips is one of the best in the business at creating all-enveloping soundscapes that are both barely there yet intriguing enough to listen to outright. And trust me, creating music that fills both of those criteria is not an easy task. When you need to slow down your world, but don't want to "feel" anything, take a spin on this "cycle."
Cave of the Wind represents a collaboration between two ambient artists - Stephen Philips and the artist who records as Isomorph. It's yet another in the currently popular "extended-play" ambient albums, meaning it's an album-length single work that (potentially) could be programmed to repeat infinitely (such as during sleep). While personally I find the mood of the CD a tad too disturbing to sleep to, it's also not outright foreboding or scary. Instead, the drones, tones, lower register washes, and other sonic effects place an image in my mind of cruising through the dark blackness of space. An "emotional" comparison would be to the latest release from eM, All The Stars Burning Bright. However, the latter CD is an assortment of varied cuts, where Cave of the Wind is a true single piece of music. There are also only superficial and fleeting similarities to the music on the two releases. A fluid-like sense of movement is ingrained in the music on Cave of the Wind. The tones and drones have a vague sense of undulation. Additionally, an echo-effect imparts a huge amount of spaciousness to the music - this album feels very expansive. Suprisingly, though, because the layering of the various effects and drones is quite dense (or at least it sounds like it), I would hesitate to call this a minimal recording. Also, I don't consider this album to be good background music (another argument against using it as a sleep aid). However, I mean that as a compliment. This kind of ambient music is best enjoyed through direct listening, where subtle nuances and slowly shifting washes, textures, and even some overt musicality, can best be heard and, likewise, appreciated. As a personal caveat, I'd alert you to be sure your headphones are up to the task. There is some serious rumbling lower register stuff on this album. It's not oppressive, but it is deep and sonorous to be sure. There are also some ethereal whistling tones too, so you will want to have a solid high-end speaker as well. At approximately the CD's half-way point, some quirky synth effects come into play (a "glooping" kind of sound). This does not break the overall mood but does introduce a new element that, personally, I was grateful for (after all, the album is already over thirty-minutes "in" - the recording itself is nearly seventy minutes long!). This effect comes and goes more than once. What did I think of the music? It took a few listens, but I got drawn into its mesmerizing effect, that's for sure. However, since this composition is slowly evolving, you have to make a commitment to the album. Listening for just ten minutes won't cut it. Also, you should minimize any outside noise factors and eliminate interruptions. By saying that, I'm relaying what I consider to be Cave of the Wind's strong point, which is its ability to transport the listener far away from "ordinary life." This could be the soundtrack for emerging from the Stargate and traveling over distant planets (2001), for walking through the cavernous Krell underground machinery and power plants (Forbidden Planet) or for indulging in inner mind voyages of other existences (Altered States). I'm using cinematic science fiction references purposely. This is indeed spacemusic, as well as being ambient music. I don't know how I come to this conclusion since this is nothing like more "typical" spacemusic from artists such as Telomere, Meg Bowles, or Jonn Serrie. But the spacemusic conclusion is staring me in the (virtual) face nonetheless. Additionally, there is also a vague sense of immense machinery present in this music. By that, I'm extrapolating from my comment above about the Krell. I don't mean that the CD sounds mechanistic - more that some of the sounds (hums, whistles, echoed drones) bring to mind something not entirely organic but not all mechanical either. Stephen Philips' has always impressed me with his talent and vision (as any reader of my reviews knows by now). However, this is my first exposure to Isomorph. While I cannot differentiate who did what and where on this album, I can tell you that this collaboration is seamless and cohesive. If you're on the lookout for music that will take you to the outer limits of space or the hidden recesses of the mind, and you don't require overt melodic content or warmth, this album will reward patient listening with its slowly enveloping layers of velvet-smooth shadows amidst deep darkness.
When I played an excerpt from James Johnson's and Stephen Philip's collaboration, Lost at Dunn's Lake, on my radio show last weekend, I stated emphatically that, even though it's only March, I didn't think I'd hear a better minimal-style ambient recording this year. This CD is...well, it's special in ways I don't know that I can describe.. Being from Wisconsin and Minnesota, the affinity I have for what this recording embodies plays a large part in my review. I have been at lake's edge in the rain and fog and have experienced the solitude and serene mystery that floats on the green-blue surface. While standing there, surrounded by hundred-year old firs, pines, birches and oaks, I never felt closed-in; instead I felt a sense of my place in the greater scheme. If this recording can elicit these kind of visions and emotions from me, well, do I need to say more to recommend it? The CD begins with the faint sound of rolling thunder in the distance. Rain is falling on water and a bird cries out plaintively. A soft-as-a-sigh synthesizer caresses the first minute of this recording, while gentle piano notes, held and sustained for an eternity, exchange the moment with a "glacier bell" tone. Thunder now and then erupts, but the rumble is calming and comforting, rather than threatening or ominous. The music starts to breathe with an organic purity, as if this fog-and-rain-shrouded lake has come alive within the confines of my back sun-room. This, ladies and gentlemen, is what true musical artistry is all about. Literally, this is one long piece of music, like James' Entering Twilight. But it's also always subtly shifting, like both Stephen's and James' more ambient and minimal work. James plays piano and synthesizers, plus by crediting him with "location resonance," I assume these are his field recordings. Stephen plays the aforementioned "glacier bell" and adds atmospheric textures. Sometimes, the textures and synths predominate, taking deep breaths of slow washes and exhaling patient sighs that invite comparisons to the warm romantic tones of Kevin Braheny's EWI work on The Way Home. Stephen's glacier bell is an amazing instrument; its pealing tones resonate with a deep sense of yearning and remembrance - cold in form but not in substance. The complete and utter symmetry of the various electronic textures and synthesizers is wondrous. Throughout the album, various different synth sounds and atmospherics are brought into focus, entertained, and then they fade away like phantoms, blown into nothingness by an imperceptible breeze coming off the rainy lake. The engineering throughout Lost at Dunn's Lake is a marvel. Whether played on headphones and savored or used as accompaniment to reading or to fall asleep to (I enjoyed all three modes), the music only intrudes at your behest; but it's always patiently waiting should you wish to journey to that lonely body of water, embraced on all sides by the somber but welcoming forest. The ever-present sound of rain falling on water, combined with those solitary piano notes, that glacier bell, and the subtle synthetic ambient washes combine to tug at my heart strings with an intensely nostalgic force. This is a recording that connects with me on a deeply personal level because of my deceased father's great love of fishing in the north woods of Wisconsin and Minnesota. I can almost smell the rain from inside the screen porch of a rustic cabin, as he and I wait out the storm, hearing the loons and jays, and enjoying the quiet companionship of our shared solitude. A wood stove glows with just enough heat and light to warm our souls against the damp air. There is no need for talk at moments like this; silence is our method of communication as we sit drinking in the richness of our surroundings through all our senses. There's not much more to say about this album. I could try to describe the music in some kind of detail, but it would be like breaking down a Van Gogh or a Renoir into individual brushstrokes or dissecting Steinbeck or Dickinson word by word. That is the province of scholars, of which I am not one, I assure you. While I can identify the elements of that which I like (and I have done that here somewhat, as I do in all my reviews), with an album this evocative and personal, I prefer to just sit back and admire the whole. In the case of Lost at Dunn's Lake, I expect to be admiring it for the rest of my life. James and Stephen, thank you for taking me back to the lake one more time.
From ambient and electronic music artist Stephen Philips comes an album very unlike (mostly) his other work. In The Moonlight sounds like a cross between Brian Eno's Neroli, Ernesto Diaz-Infante's Ucross Journal and the late Dan Hartman's New Green Clear Blue. These minimalist introspective piano (and sparsely used synth) improvisations paint a somber and reflective, yet mesmerizing soundscape. Introspective and yet warm and inviting at times, the music is not as minimal as Eno or Infante, but it lacks any structure that would be recognizable even to a fan of George Winston, Janie Campbell or William Watson. This is not new age piano music - not by a long shot. But I found the album amazingly calming just the same (I had the same reaction to Diaz-Infante's Ucross Journal). Maybe that makes me a depressing kinda guy, since the music itself seems suffused with a rich melancholy at times (or at least an overdose of reflection). Surprisingly, sometimes the music is more active than any of the other artists mentioned (except for Hartman, whose one masterpiece still remains the epitome of floating and warm serene piano/synth music to my ears). Most of the six cuts are solo piano - occasionally whisper soft and at other times single notes strike out with sudden urgency. "Relative Experience" actually begins to resemble a more traditional (well, relatively) song at times, but for the most part, you won't be humming cuts like "Free Flow" or "In A Round About Way." But, don't think this CD is dissonant or harsh. While the juxtaposition of soft and loud notes takes some getting used to, perhaps, the balance makes the music all the more interesting. The title cut will be the one to evoke comparisons to Hartman, as low key subtle synths permeate the background, while gentle piano notes walk forlornly on the surface. It's a flat out great song (and, at over eleven minutes, worth the price of admission alone). But there's also the closing cut, "Snowfall" which also adds synth textures to its lower register piano to incredibly visual effect. I can almost see myself walking deserted city streets in fading light of a late afternoon in winter, as shadows grow deeper and the world readies itself for nightfall. Those of you who have never lived in the northern climates may not believe me, but falling snow actually makes a sound, if you're lucky enough for the world to be still enough to hear it. Sad yet beautiful, it's a sound that speaks of peace and sleep. In the same way, Stephen Philips' In The Moonlight echoes this sense of repose and solitude - much like a solitary walk in the snow. The CD is highly recommended for people who want to bring some stillness into their lives and can listen to silence as easily as they can to music. This album is a marvel of economy and a deeply satisfying emotional experience.
Cycles 2, from ambient musician Stephen Philips, is one long deep breath of electronic peace and serenity. The single song on the CD is titled "Endless Dream" (no cracks about the appropriate title!) and it is an exercise in subtly changing synth washes and chords stretched out over its sixty-plus minute length. While most of the music is not dark, it's also not anything like the work of someone like Chuck Wild (a.k.a. Liquid Mind). Not just because this is more minimal, but because as the music undulates and weaves its web, there are flashes of melancholy or vague disturbance. But it is so muted and lasts so briefly that the overall tone of Cycles 2 is much closer to that of reflective or meditative music than to that of most dark ambient. There are no rhythmic elements to the song ( in that way it bears a strong resemblance to James Johnson's work as well), but the almost organic ebbing and flowing of the chords and washes lends an air of unforced rhythm which, I believe, is unmistakable. It's the rhythm of the natural world, I suppose, and as such is patient beyond most people's notice. At the same time, the music itself is surprisingly diverse, given the relative narrow confines of what Stephen is actually playing on the CD (slowly evolving synth chords). I'm sure listeners who demand either more structure or activity in their music will think this is too monochromatic, but I think there's a wonderful and constant flux going on throughout "Endless Dream." Space music fans who like deep drifting music and ambient lovers who hear bliss in the more sparse recordings of, for example, A Produce or the aforementioned James Johnson, should find this CD to their liking, to say the least. To me, this recording is the very essence of true ambient music - I put it on tonight as I was folding the laundry and it colored the living room in a cool blue aural texture that lightened my mood without my even realizing it. Cycles 2 is sonic wallpaper of the highest quality and I plan on playing it a lot when I read late at night or even just laying in the dark trying to decompress the negative emotions from the day's bullshit. Stephen Philips continues to show me that he has a tremendous amount of talent when it comes to creating fantastic ambient music.
Over the course of it's more than seventy minutes, Stephen Philips' Subtle Environments certainly lives up to its name. This recording contains a combination of soundscapes which act almost on a subconscious level to establish a sonic environment in the listening area. Truthfully, the first two times I listened to this recording, I found myself so immersed in the environment it had created, I lost myself and either fell asleep or zoned out. I hope that comes across right. This is superb ambient "music" since it infuses the literal environment with its essence in such as way as to disappear as a recording. The first three cuts are the epitome of "subtle." Using a combination of subdued nature sounds (water and birds) "Swamp" and "Marsh (part 1 and 2)" slowly undulate in a electronic liquid ebb and flow of non-melodic yet never dissonant stream of sound. The effect isn't so much tranquil as it is pervasive. The way that Stephen allows his nature sounds to work with the natural flow of the electronics is fascinating - and also, in my opinion, quite restful. However, by the third cut ("Marsh, part 2") things start to get a little more spacy, i.e. less natural. There is a rising and falling synthesized tone that, while working well with the sound of water, signals the evolution of the CD toward a less natural and serene state. It's ironic that with the piece called "Stillness" (which is heralded by the sound of crickets and frogs), Stephen actually steers the album into a more direct and darker listening phase via the introduction of synth washes and rhythms. The rhythm has a natural ebb and flow to it; it's almost metronomic-like. I found it oddly appealing, i.e. while it might sound ultra-syncopated, by weaving it amongst the synthesizer shadings, it takes on a warmth that I am at a loss to explain. "Darkness Comes" once again has a syncopated rhythmic element (Stephen does these rhythms very well with no trace of overly-synthetic textures) but the EM nature of this piece continues to bring the album as a whole out "in the open" as it where. We have left the almost abstract side of the earlier cuts and are now planted firmly in gently, yet rhythmically, undulating space and ambient music. This is a most pleasing cut and, despite its running time of almost ten minutes, I never grew tired of it. The next two cuts drive Subtle Environments deep into dark ambient territory, with shape-shifting electronics and vague synth undercurrents eliciting images of shadows and fading light. While the music is seldom menacing or even unfriendly, it is certainly not cheery or inviting. In particular, "Subtle Changes Through Obvious Manipulation" is an almost avant-garde piece; not atonal or dissonant but experimental and challenging nonetheless. It may remind some listeners of the darker side of artists like Robert Rich or maybe some of the recordings on the Hypnos label. The album ends on a warmer note with "Relaxing Rendering" which, while not relaxing in the traditional sense, does calm things down a bit from an emotional standpoint. The music and electronics takes on a lighter feel, almost ethereal at times, although the watery sonic effects that burble in the foreground root the song in the natural and organic world. Subtle Environments is a most interesting album, filled with a strange beauty that I can't label or describe accurately. It's not relaxation music. It's actually the very essence of ambient music, i.e. a recording that is best allowed to "paint the walls" with sounds to create a feeling that only the individual can best describe. Some may be vaguely disturbed while others may find themselves strangely becalmed (as I was). Either way, Stephen Philips exhibits an ability to create organic electronic music of a most unique kind. Subtle yet also deeply textured and emotionally rewarding. Definitely recommended for fans of ambient music and space music fans not addicted to neo-romanticism.
Stephen Philips' Desert Landscapes is a different take on "desert-inspired" ambient music than some of Steve Roach's or Biff Johnson's more "western" or "tribal" music. It actually has more in common musically with the stark yet beautiful minimal work of an artist like James Johnson. Desert Landscapes is more minimal than anything but the spaciest of Jonn Serrie's earliest work. Yet, what's most unique about this recording is the incredible beauty contained within these floating compositions with nary a trace of menace or moroseness. This is decidedly not dark ambient music, at least not to my ears. Which is not to say it doesn't bring to mind dark(ened) images, but it does so in a very literal way. I found myself visualizing the southwestern United States desert landscape as the sun set behind distant mountains, casting a soft pink and orange glow to the sky, gradually morphing into the deepest crimson before fading at last into violet and, then, black. The album is comprised of three selections, each one over twenty-minutes long (the final song, "Sonoran Lights" is almost thirty-minutes in length). Each is a gentle and patient unfolding series of synthesizer washes and chords which ever-so-slowly evolve through subtle yet distinct tones and textures. The effect is utterly mesmerizing. Stephen has the following caveat on the back of the CD: "Warning: May cause drowsiness. Do not attempt to listen to this music while driving or operating large machinery." While that warning is probably well-deserved, more or less, the beauty of these floating ambient tone poems is so evident and enveloping that I could only fall asleep if I was dead tired already. For me, the ability of this music to paint vivid images is something quite special. For example, at the four-minute mark on "Sonoran Lights" there is a muted twinkling series of notes that might bring to mind either the slow emergence of stars in the desert night sky or, and I think this is even more evocative, the far-off lights of a distant city (Needles perhaps?) as one stands on a rock outcropping deep in the desert. There are also rhythmic elements in this song, as well (the other two are completely floating pieces). But the textures are in the background, vaguely echoed, and they disappear relatively quickly. As a result, despite these anomalies from the first two cuts, the album's continuity and ambiance are consistent and uninterrupted. Desert Landscapes is an outstanding recording. It's ability to transport me into the desert at night left me astounded. Even here, as I listen to it while writing this review under the glare of fluorescent lights, I still feel its almost blanketing effect of calm and beauty calling me to the sands and rock of the American southwest. For fans of patient and serene floating synthesizer recordings, this is a must have. I can't recommend this album highly enough except to say that if you don't buy it, you're missing something special indeed. I don't know what Stephen can do to top this, but you can bet I'll be there when he does. |
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