Constance Demby
Novus Magnificat (Through the Stargate)

Very little is known about Constance Demby: her life is shrouded in the mists of mystery. It is known that she is Californian, that she is a multi-instrumentalist, and that at some point in her life she became passionate about new age music and founded her own record label, through which she began releasing albums. Back in 1986, she released what is considered a milestone of the genre: the Novus Magnificat. The album is played by her with the help of only one assistant, Michael Stearns, and that says a lot already. If we then add that the work is completely performed with one of the first electronic sample synthesizers, it becomes almost incredible because the album indeed seems performed by an orchestra.

Since discovering this work, my life has changed: I wander at night under the relentless gaze of the stars, and this is the only music that gives me relief, because it flows clear and immerses me within my true self. And it's pure magic how it paints liquid watercolors, small clear ponds reflecting the firmament.

This is almost metaphysical music, some even say platonic. But if Nietzsche was right, we should make the earth our heaven. And Constance Demby succeeds: I see hers not as a work dedicated to the world beyond but rather a metaphysical ode to physics, an otherworldly tribute to earthly life that aims to validate the natural world instead of devaluing it as merely a blurred mirror of the divine one. Music that finds its immortality in finiteness. Time fragments years into days and pulverizes days into hours until all we are left with is the fine sand of minutes. And the seconds? Maybe the dust in the attic, where my old vinyl records lie tired. When I'm no longer here, they will be what testify to who I was. And when Constance Demby is no longer here, it will be her music that remembers her.

Two long suites that unwind into rivers flowing from the sky, converging from the source of ecstasy: everything begins from a soft mossy undergrowth of synthesizers, from which rise like heights shrouded in mother-of-pearl clouds the evanescent Gregorian chants. This music evaporates from the waters and ascends to the sky, merging with the stars, and does not hide its kinship with the works of Bach.

When I listen to this album, I ride the clouds, and there are moments when I spiral downwards, in twists so heartbreaking they make my stomach feel light: the violins tear at the soul, but the rollercoaster effect evaporates and the notes lead me back towards transcendental ecstasy, making me sink into the ocean's water. Here I walk enchanted along the sea floor, fish dance lazily above my head, algae sway beside me like enormous trees battered by the north wind. If you want to come and keep me company, then buy this album.