A hiss that gradually increases in thickness and a few piano chords give the impetus to Geogaddi. Then a succession of bare melodies, rhythms with mathematical precision, indistinct noises...
This is what the Boards Of Canada (Marcus Eoin and Michael Sandison in everyday life) are. And still, snippets of radio broadcasts, genetically transformed children's choirs, a few off-key keyboard drones for music that is yes, icy, wintry, and a direct descendant of kraut-rock ambient and kosmische musik, but possesses a kind of warmth, tenderness, and humanity granted to it by the exclusive use of analog instrumentation. So, no PCs, Macs, or laptops, but only rigorously vintage drum machines and synths. But it is fundamentally useless to try to describe this record piece by piece (some tracks are wonderful, "Music Is Math" and "Alpha And Omega" above all). It is a nocturnal journey within oneself and simultaneously through thirty years of avant-garde electronics. It could be the ideal soundtrack for a posthumous film by Luis Buñuel. Perhaps the best description that can be given is precisely the comparison with The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie: when the South American ambassador talks about his country, he is often drowned out by annoying street noises. This album perfectly reconstructs the same sense of vague incommunicability and surrealism. On a more down-to-earth level, it's enough for me to say that this record deserves a place in your collection and especially in your skull...
I tried, honestly, to listen over and over again to the 23 tracks it comprises without ever feeling the slightest emotion, the slightest involvement, the slightest enthusiasm.
The rest is almost unlistenable.