Before we get started, it’s important to point out my own bias here, in that Michael Seymour and I are not only longtime (and current) collaborators, but in that he is one of my best friends and favorite people. I’ve made it my policy here at Never Nervous to offer an honest appraisal of the work that comes in or that I discover, which is the case here; I found this album just like I found everything else. And such is the case for my friend Michael Seymour, to release art on his terms and his alone, without any intent other than sharing something he enjoys with people who may appreciate such.
That austere approach to presentation, from title to release, is apparent through the album, a two track meditation on sound through drone. Seymour’s music is square in the center of Eno’s maxim to create music that is as ignorable as it is interesting. This is unfiltered ambient, compositional only in the linear way in which sounds drift in and out adding to the overall harmonic resonance of each piece. It’s a steady progression of sonic haze that slowly filters into your perception before quietly fading away into the horizon, backed by a low and steady sine wave. This is the most mellow of mellow, reflections on time and space unique to the individual. Both tracks serves as a mirror to your mood -no small feat to create- as devoid of any emotion other than what you project in. As such, there is a tabula rasa quality to the music, a blank canvas for you to paint yourself on.
Let this wash over you in soft waves of euphoric glee, ruminative and alive with that action of introspection. There is something majestic about this music, although it’s hard to quite put a finger on why or what that may be, like glacial fanfare blared by every horn, slower than molasses, but just as sweet. Easy comparisons include some of the greats of the genre including Stars of the Lid, Gas, Phil Niblock, or Lawrence English, which speaks to the quality of his music, kept in here in good company. Still, his is a craft all to its own, devoid of pretense or pretension, and made in the margins of a life well led. Listen below and contemplate the myriad mysteries that plague us all.