The Dolphin Brothers
Catch The Fall

In 1983, Japan disbanded. The careers of the four members, between solo works and parallel projects, diverged. The most successful adventure undoubtedly remains that of David Sylvian, capable of producing excellent records, albeit with the collaboration of big names. His brother Steve Jensen, on the other hand, decided in 1987 to join another former Japan member, the keyboardist Richard Barbieri, to create the project Dolphin Brothers. Thus, "Catch The Fall" was born, an album that bears the unmistakable trademark of the two.

It is a work that skillfully unfolds between decadent ballads and more energetic tracks, in which Jensen's scathing drumming emerges, although it appears more restrained compared to the unpredictable impulses of Japan. The "Sylvian brother" makes up for it with a convincing vocal performance, displaying a seductive intonation and warmth not far from his more famous brother. The timbre is quite similar, and initially, it's not difficult to find oneself in an embarrassing confusion. Barbieri, for his part, is certainly the one who influences the overall sound the most, with that fascinating exoticism that brought much success to the music of Japan (especially Quiet Life and Gentlemen Take Polaroids).

The introduction is cleverly entrusted to the title track, one of the album's best pieces: a slow, sinuous unfolding on an oriental-like percussionism, which Barbieri skillfully clouds with layers of crepuscular keyboards. Everything is very elegant, masterfully refined, with remarkable sound and meticulous attention to detail. This characteristic, positive in itself, leads to the thought that it is somewhat formulaic, crafted by two who know their craft very well, and that, once together, they could hardly produce something awful, if only for their class and experience.
The next track, "Shining", confirms this impression, an engaging rock-pop though ultimately predictable, too polished, without particular inventions, and, in the end, lacking a solid foundation.
"Second Sight" does better, where the catchy chorus stands out, embellished by the usual brilliant keyboard embellishments.
The level drops again in the following "Love That You Need," another predictable (and also too long-winded) excursion into more atmospheric cocktail-lounge, complete with paradisiacal female vocalizations.
Luckily, "Real Answers" proves to have a decidedly superior caliber: The rhythm returns as the protagonist, with all the power Jensen is capable of, creating a semi-danceable track tinged with synthetic oriental elements, as the glorious Japan tradition dictates. The class, in short, is there, and this time, it fully emerges.
Immediately after, it descends again into more rarefied territories. Leading is Barbieri's delicate touch, indulging in almost ambient electronic layers, with Jensen standing out in a midsection worthy of the most meditative Sylvian. Ultimately, an excellent track, but the previous discussion remains unchanged.
"My Winter" stretches over languid, gentle, and justly liquid pianism, accompanied by the usual background breeze, where rhythm is completely absent, and the rarefaction becomes total. A suggestive piece, mainly because it was created "to suggest," and for this reason, it ends up becoming quite comfortable.
The final farewell is entrusted to the convincing "Pushing The River," wisely spiced with indefinable electronic figures, catchy and seductive, undoubtedly one of the best songs on the album.

After listening, one is left with the sensation of a work inconsistent but above all clever, with much class, much elegance, but a bit too pretentious.