First Impressions

Initial vibes on new music

The listening side of my brain darts around in all sorts of ways. This is partly why Longform Editions was created but it means I take in a lot of different music each day. Some is Longform Editions adjacent and some is far removed from that realm. Here, I’ll share my first impressions of what I’ve listened to in any given week: short thoughts that may change and develop on return spins. Such is the nature of going deeper but this is where I’ll capture that initial vibe. It’ll be loose and fast - I hope you’ll enjoy it.

Starting off with a few things I listened to in the past few weeks, then we’ll be back after the summer season with a weekly set of First Impressions.
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Marionette – Kirk Barley: Beautifully impressionistic pieces, upholding the spirit though deconstructing the sound of classic Jon Hassell, then reassembling it into new shapes. (note this is the first of these I wrote, so it’s very short but important in the kickstart to getting this idea moving!)

When The Roses Come Again – Daniel Bachman: Daniel’s ponderous guitar picking glistens through beds of sounds gathered from his rural surrounds, both native and machine-derived for a clatteringly epic narrative circling the push and pull of existence on our cracked Earth. His work is never less than thrilling, but how he makes the element of surprise in his approach seem so natural is his true gift.    

Home Is – Hinano Fujisaki: The Sydney-based artist made this album to ‘make you feel warm and safe’. It takes the light, airy touch of Japanese folk (see Eddie Marcon, Sachiko Kanenobu) and stretches it across a pastoral jazz palette to summon a wonderful feeling of collective spirit and gentle intimacy. I’m reminded of both Sandro Perri and Joni Mitchell. It’s feelgood music with a big vision for the small things.

Esperanto – Nico Niquo: This one’s from May 2023, meaning I have very much slept on it. This borders on criminal, especially as Nico’s work is very much slept on en masse despite his masterful touch. If the idea of new age music and the atmospheric ends of Miles Davis’ 70s work coming together sounds like the devil to you, check the supreme detailing in these pieces. You might change your mind. It could just be the imaginary ECM synth record you’re looking for.

Spike Field – Maria BC: I love this kind of slightly-amped up, idiosyncratic DIY bedroom-pop and this is right up there. It evokes all the cliches but for good reason – making the most of very little, delicately spun, tugs at the heartstrings – probably because it makes me feel all so fuzzy that I’m immediately enveloped with not a lot to say. These are really good songs with an individual essence, beautifully unanchored and rendered on the right side of strange to make them distinct.

Some Kind of Telling – Banana: Sometimes I listen to the various hums in the office space I spend much time in instead of music. Fridays are best for this because there’s hardly anyone here. I’ve developed a kind of comfort zone with them – they’re a little weird but warm and easy, too. This Sydney duo of Alexandra Spence and MP Hopkins offer this feel a little more close up, played out for more effect with what sounds like a loads of things you can blow into and vocal / text patters. While their approach is softly does it, their microphone placement doesn’t quite allow for it.  It’s got this sense of intimacy with the slightest tickle of something more ineffable. At one point, it felt like Darth Vader was whispering sweet nothings in my ear. It is that kind of curious juxtaposition and proposition. I don’t want to say ‘disquietude’, but some might.   

Golden Pear – Omni Gardens: A Longform Editions alumni who seemingly has a never ending supply of liquid melodies sliding out of his synth set-up. This latest feels influenced by Japanese environmental music pioneered by the likes of Hiroshi Yoshimura, particularly the want from Yoshiimura for his music to capture the spirit of air. As pillowy as the textures on Golden Pear are, Omni Gardens’ music works well past any mere waft factor, knowing how and when to let it hang but also how to let it play out more like a song. Nothing here is so adrift that it ends up blowing around you and then just floats on by. It’s a gentle rapture that’s becoming a lovely signature of his work.     

Fastingen-92 - Daniel Ögren: Saw this crop up on Pitchfork and investigated. Ögren is a Swedish music mainstay in a few bands along with a long catalogue of self-played and self-recorded solo work. This is a reissue of a 2020 work and a decidedly rose-coloured offering. The front end is loaded up with highly agreeable white-boy bedroom pop-funk – something like Unknown Mortal Orchestra approximating William Onyeabor – but it gets richer as it goes on, with some lovely atmospheric flexes while keeping the same paisley overlay throughout. There’s a lot in Ögren’s kit bag and he fuses it all delightfully with a depth that suggests this won’t be some flash-in-the-pan, past the incessant hummability of it all.

Also, listen to Longform Editions 35, released this month:

Have a great holiday season! Back with more First Impressions and LE in February.
Thanks.
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First Impressions visual by Mark Gowing.