Keaton Henson
Romantic Works

Not saying everything, or almost nothing, in this overexposed era, I believe has become essential to express a certain beauty that lives in intimacy and silence, those never total silences of life, and that can rarely be defined in words. Myself, my experiences, your lives, have nothing to do with words. Why should people waste time trying to define something that is already special? There are no important words. Elsewhere, instead, in other realms, it becomes easier to become children again, to marvel and be frightened by the weight of desires and fears, passed down like a hereditary duty from ancient times and too many men. To listen to ourselves, to produce change, to recognize the fragility and weakness we carry inside, to finally affirm our uniqueness, we must make space within ourselves. Between one person and another, between one day and the next, between one house and another, between one appointment and the next. It is a path that, however difficult, sooner or later, at some imprecise point in space-time, might lead us to enlightenment, to live our life honestly and fully, to recognize ourselves, to enrich and diversify ourselves.

Thus, in "Healah Dancing" it is like sitting in a wide and bright waiting room, looking around, getting lost in memories waiting for someone who may never return, leafing through one's personal collection of pain. And then, in "Field," stepping outside to get a breath of fresh air, perhaps taking off your shoes, brushing the grass with your feet and breathing in the scent of just fallen rain. Feeling the first rays of the sun, the smell of wet earth and evaporating water, appreciating the distance and solitude, small stratagems, valid self-defense systems against the present. "Petrichor" is melancholic, sweet, oriental, minimal, a musical haiku, taken like this, under a sudden and light spring rain, in a moment of ecstatic suspension.

In "Earnestly Yours" and "Josella" there is the same melancholy and fragility, a man grappling with his voids who opens up in a totally sincere and unfiltered way. In "Nearly Curtains" there is the distant city, there are kids playing in the garden next door, or at the park, and that fragment of sweetest and joyful understanding with them, made only of glances. There is a brief eruption of anxiety or discomfort, before the finale, which reiterates in a small and simple shout of joy the ultimate truth of children.

In "Emissary" again the distance, people passing by, doors opening, rapid footsteps, and an overall impression always sincere but reserved, particular, definitive. As if everything were truly ready to light up before sensitive and discreet young souls, but revealing in that light also its opposite. A total, dark, vibrant and mysterious space ("Elevator Song").

There is always Ren Ford's cello accompanying the piano. And resonant aerophones. All here, for an emotional fresco that may remind you of Max Richter and Jonny Greenwood, Olafur Arnalds and Arcade Fire of Her, Peter Broderick and Philip Glass, while maintaining a deeply original dimension: Romantic Works (2014), the first instrumental album by Keaton Henson.