Cranes
Particles & Waves

The edgy experimental debut of the demo tape "Fuse" (1988) is distant not only in terms of time; the encounter with The Cure (at the peak of their commercial expansion) undeniably deeply influenced the structural imprint of the songs by Alison and Jim Shaw, but even "Forever" and the subsequent "Remix" are distant.

Having definitively relinquished the title of "successors of The Cure" apparently to Placebo, (by Smith's own admission), the Cranes return, after a good neo-indie album like "Future Songs" composed of atmospheric and icy songs with just the right amount of warm voice, more structured and conceptually integrated like all their works since the previous "Population 4," giving birth to an album that once again reveals the lyrical and compositional qualities of Ali and Jim Shaw, as well as their foresight: understanding that the state-of-the-art of pop has shifted its center from Miranda Sex Garden/Cocteau Twins towards the Nordic electronics of Sigur Ros et al., and aware of the same dream pop background, the Cranes sign with "Particles And Waves" an album perfectly aligned with the minimalist imprint suggested by the title; yet another scientific concept album (analogously to "Self-Non-Self") as always suspended between electro and dream pop. In this case, they forgo the majesty of tracks like "Future Song" or "Paris And Rome" and the soft drum'n'bass influence of "Don't Wake Me Up" and let the power of the sound surrender to the elegant delicacy and lightness of the sound-voice mix.

Emblematic "Vanishing Point" where it almost feels like hearing Garbage grapple with an electro-glitch arrangement like Mum's from "Weeping Rock Rock" split into two moments, spatial and effected (ambient sounds recorded en plein air can be heard in the first part) or in the stellar sounds of "Particles And Waves" and "Astronauts". "Here Comes The Snow" recalls the orchestral openings typical of the Portsmouth trio, metronomic and alienating drums, guitars seemingly relaxed, but actually contorted and dark-waved create a sound that gradually becomes post-industrial clangor yet always confined to the background, at the opposite extreme "K76" touches the ethereal and dreamy peak, perhaps giving us the pop gem of this collection.

In conclusion, a concept on the infinitely small steeped with references to art and literature (the cover and the entire artwork are inspired by Von Cock's "Snowflake"), as well as a small (almost) ethereal pop jewel.
We are not in Iceland and the cranes still stand out (thankfully) on the horizon of Portsmouth to recall the presence of industrialization: around the usual hub consisting of the strident paradox between bucolic neo-classicism and avant-garde à la Young Gods, Bad Seeds, and Neubauten, also develops the sixth album of the best Albion space pop ethereal group.