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Rating: May the flood, this time, come from different waters.
Matthew Cooper thus put aside the misty intimacy and the dense guitar loops of "Talk Amongst the Trees" and embarked on a journey.
Strings, horns, pianos, and sensations from the first day of creation.
Nature, still swollen with sleep and saturated with shimmering colors, awakens to the sound of primordial horns composing odes and pantheistic garlands in her honor.
The morning dew rests on slender guitar strums that ruffle the tender grass of the meadows.
Sweet melodies chase and merge into sudden wonders and imperceptible shivers, while soft piano breezes dance with butterflies in the vast spaces of a still virgin world.
An Eden without snakes and an ambient without unease, suspended in azure arches and celestial contemplations.
And then again a piano unfolding the petals of the heart, the sweet melancholy of knowing for sure that all this will not last.
But it doesn't matter, being here and being it now is what counts.
And the cadence takes courage and grows, arches towards the sky, stretches and swells more and more…
…And is abruptly cut off.
On the ground remains a buzzing violin that gives rise to another piano sonata. The two look at each other in bewilderment and exchange impressions without speaking, like those a bee shares with a solitary orchid by the riverbank.
Ambient neoclassicism full of wonder for life, exultant with joy and gratitude.
And here comes the thick wind of an organ announcing the sunset; the contrast with the lengthening shadows gives solidity and consistency to the things that crackle and finally melt into the red furnace diving at the horizon.
Evening arrives and with it the stars.
A night of the Dawn of Time rocked by the waves of somnambulant strings. And while the distant gleams of the horns, like funeral pyres, mourn the end of the day, the pyrotechnic explosion of swirling percussion grandly concludes the journey.
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