Tuxedomoon
Half Mute

In that extraordinary melting pot called new-wave, Tuxedomoon were undoubtedly among the most "intellectual" formations. The work in question looks at rock as if from a hill at sunset, often approaching the avant-garde. Its strongly cerebral climate, dark and unsettling atmospheres, and compositions that wink at chamber music all contribute to the charm of their long-distance debut. Half Mute is in a sense an experiment on the psyche, or on music applied to the psyche, with its sound blends that continuously astonish because they are never the same. The crowning jewel of the album is undoubtedly the marvelous sound of Blaine Reininger's sax, clean, provocative, and sinuous but incredibly "icy." It stands out prominently and emerges as an undisputed protagonist but never intrusive, drawing designs of great sensuality. Listening to "Fifth Column," my words become music, and what music it is.

Disturbing electronic fragments prick the backdrop of a dark and menacing bass, and here intervenes the protagonist... the extraordinary sax of mental darkness.
What more can be said about the splendid minimalism of the initial "Nazca"? The sound seems to vibrate in the air to paint a desolately cold atmosphere.
The mechanical dance of "Loneliness," the exasperating harmonic duet between a dancing violin and a petrified bass in "Volo Vivace," the android singing that characterizes the gloomy march of "7 Years," and the listless sax of "Km" are other gems to note in the diary of someone who loves good music.
An album about alienation, tense and vibrant, full of a silent neurosis and therefore even more frightening, it will mark a rare case of true "musical avant-garde," worthy of being considered a true "milestone."