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Rating:
First part, the basics...
One: it's the unconscious that does all the work, and you, no matter how skilled, will never have better ideas than it does.
Two: what you need to do is stay silent, position yourself defenselessly where the two worlds meet, and start strumming.
Three: if you're drunk, it's better, but every artist has their tricks -open your eyes, close your eyes, spin around, do it again- and I have mine too.
Four: throw the little fish from your magical fishing back into clear water and let them drift, drifting is very important.
Five: to preserve all the accidents that make things interesting, never plan, or do it as little as possible.
Six: everyone has their God, and mine is the drone; chord changes are overrated, and when a sound is beautiful, repeating it is even more beautiful.
Seven: if the drone is the base, the height is the drift recommended in point four; imagine a barge on the river or a flying carpet.
Eight: on the flying carpet, I’d like to eat gratin macaroni and listen to a John Hassell record.
Nine: the adjectives with which they usually qualify my delirium, things like “cryptic, repetitive, psychedelic, avant-garde, hypnotic, noisy, soft, strange, playful, moody, aquatic, earthy” might also be right, but if they ask me to define what I do, my answer is always “Badabam.”
Ten: the profound sense of making music is to cancel all the garbage that overwhelms us...
Ecce Homo, or Daniel Patrick Quinn, gardener, wine expert, volcanologist, esotericist, writer, traveler, record producer, and leader of these One More Grain. What you've read so far is a synthesis of his thinking as I understood and partly imagined it.
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Second part, beans, toast, and Pythagoras...
This album, dated 2022, is a constant surprise, not something like “now, dear fool, I’ll give you something unexpected so then you’ll say I'm cool, genius, and so on,” oh no, because those things, you can immediately hear the stupidity of intelligence, and instead here the intelligence is truly intelligent and never makes the first move, and everything flows, everything is according to nature, just like that canned tomato advert says.
“Source of life and first engine” is the sound on which the repeat button insists, welcoming and hosting a wandering and rambling of rhythmic magics, bewildered melodies, background noises, and many other beautiful things.
Add a mystic voice that maps the territory with road signs in the form of words (down there you can see “the old lady Sea” and a bit further away “the old man Stone”) and asks things like “and now what do I do, turn left?”
But, above all, a strange surreal quality, sometimes melancholic, sometimes sly, that brings back to the world your humble rough vulgaris and its very “light gas” and very “fantasy to power” imprinting.
Then, if you want references, I'd say something of the krautier Fall, John Hassell digressions, fragments of free jazz, a bit of sweet Canterbury, a bit of Canterbury Dada.
All nice folks?
Yes, all nice folks...
Trallallà...
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