“… i wanted to make something that people could use as a kind of meditative or sleep aid. the listener is a traveller (not necessarily travelling physically), drifting in and out of sleep…”
… side b of murmur was and is, always a high. the track list of tear-up, hour by hour, jump the gun, red mirror and cold kiss has everything and more of hula’s expertise in creative sensorium. it ran the wires with vocal rage, mania and unpredictability…’
‘… exist is without doubt the literal hit of this set but in gauging the six-track as a whole is a mighty leader into a near future full album of more blissfully magnetic ist ist anthems to escape the modern world.’
‘… this debut album is a stunning experience, made to latch onto and hold dear. hilary woods has created a sound beguiling and extraordinary, a perfect cacophony of frayed bandaging for her relived emotions.…’
‘… james’ exquisitely accentuated lilt and everyday prose of life. loves and many alternate facets therein slide rasping through the unshackled momentum, power and preciseness of andy macfarlane’s composite engine…’
‘… the meaning and emotional physicality in utilising sounds of glacial movement, melt and breakage reveals both a celebration of nature’s magnificence and an all-out warning of its expedited destruction… by our own hands…’
‘… on my name is safe in your mouth she wraps the sky in a blanket cosiness both in emotion and sound, mapping beauty in feeling and words. leila moss has made an album which feels like home, for every single person willing to share in its ritual and routine…’
‘… i think being out in this expansive, harsh and barren landscape influenced me greatly. this trip the most important influence on the record, to see the glacier and to witness it’s decline. the sound of it. i just tried to replicate that in a musical way…’
‘… whilst this is a self-indulgence for me, i hope you can hear up there because if it were not for you i most definitely would not be here writing into this black-hole creative void. salutations mr peel, this random selection is a miniscule attempt at a thank-you…’
‘… cyclical patterns rise, fall and breathe. droning the arrivals, usage and departures of multiple tonnage of said liquid gold, skilfully guided to perform this elixir transformation into being. ironically (well i find it so), the vague, almost subliminal monosyllabic sound of the dripping concrete adds a textural form, like the random surface noise of a vinyl record to this compact disc’s sonic stability.
‘… portion control were true innovators in so many electronic fields, acknowledged as inspiration to the likes of fla and skinny puppy. to me they were gods, if ever such things existed. no-one could ever match them. in reality they were just three, friendly, ordinary blokes with a love of abc…’
‘… measured narratives of existence, life’s rights/wrongs and occasional (restrained) lone rage are all entwined within craig’s own strength of graceful acoustic and/or electric strings and graeme smillie’s softly sighing keys. melancholic. joyous... a collection of all the above unseen and abandoned rudimentary descriptives…’
‘… so, here i am, released from arms and paws, snores and not-quite snores, grasping for the paragraphs submitted to either a pre-occupied, or ‘leave-me-alone i am actually trying to sleep’ memory. there were brief monologues on the exceptional debut album from the duke spirit’s leila moss… ‘
‘… this scottish prose set against the sound of being amongst. sounds surrounding. the chatter. the breath of people and place. spoken words in lines, chapters of days spent. months, years, over time. over ocean and returning. playful text, dancing boldly with softly touched piano strings…’
‘… just picture yourself; wrapped to the nines, woolly hatted, headphones under. simply standing still gazing over a snow covered glasgow (as on the twilight cover photograph) listening to these stunning songs, softly mouthing along with craig’s voice. after 23 minutes you’ll be silent, warmed and ready to press repeat…’
‘… i don’t care how anyone voted two years ago just before a pig-fucking, berkshire cunt turned his white-feather back leaving the rest of us to a small circle of blindfolded lunatics driving this air-bagless car crash, everyone, yes everyone, must surely see the light…’
‘… lyrically here sam is exploring personal feelings of self, unshackling from normalities to achieve and move beyond wasted opportunities, potential and mere existence. past shared experience, moments re-lived and the longing to move forward without inbuilt societal repression…’
‘… lycia have always risen above darkness and right now as autumn into winter fades with the sun at its highest, a renewed generational hope is felt. perhaps, if only personally fleeting, that’s a rare and inspirational chemical reaction to cling onto. even just in flickers…’