Circle
Prospekt

THE REVIEW

The first impression reveals much of the essence of the album: minimalist post-rock, vaguely kraut-rock (but also not so vaguely, one might argue). Two drums, two guitars, two keyboards, one bass: what do they do? They deliver a hypnotic sound, playing songs individually marked by the same distinctly steady beat, creating clear, sharp melodies, always distinctly discernible from one another, that do not merge into a single entity but rather whirl together. The Finnish band Circle adopts the philosophy of the sole riff master that consistently shapes chords in progression. The album is from 2000, but the music seems chronologically unplaceable.

Colorless, tangible psychedelia that levitates and swells, beats and rebeats. Aseptic and often emotionally cold, if it were an object, it would be something perfectly smooth, and thus the cover greatly aids in the concept. Repetition, yet continuous evolution: playing this stuff could be akin to solving equations iteratively. Nothing absolutely new, but in any case, I throw it out there, imagining the album as Tortoise stripped of every emotional vein, played by a Steve Reich inside the (stationary) spaceship of the Loose.

Here's my take if you want to start the album: I think focusing on such incessantly repetitive, bare, essential music doesn't provoke great effects; it might be better to let it orbit around. That said, I propose two possible outcomes from listening: agitation or relaxation. In my opinion, a work that lives on a solid balance between strengths and weaknesses of any kind.