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Andrew Chalk, "Forty-Nine Views In Rhapsodies' Wave Serene"

By cultivating a garden of ambient vignettes, Andrew Chalk brings his usually sprawling soundscapes into precise focus, never allowing anything to repeat itself too deliberately. Forty-Nine Views is a wistful record of fractured memories; brief glimpses into a surreal world triggered by a collection of electronic melodies and effects, each song distinct in small degrees.

Faraway Press

When a large percentage of your output consists of unkempt album-length suites, a move as simple as conservation can throw some people off. Forty-Nine Views might accurately be compared to former Chalk records like "Violin At Night," where Andrew's discretion on song lengths began to call for truncated, separate pieces. This record just follows that line of thought to its logical extreme.

Forty-Nine Views is Chalk in a studiously selective mood, editing his tracks down to one minute or less, refusing to allow any ideas to flourish, instead letting each one out just long enough to make an impression. I found myself hoping at least one song would have evolved into a fully realized centerpiece, but to no avail. The procedural limits on Andrew's work here requires that everything be quick enough to pass by if you were not paying attention. As a result, there is a bewildering level of nuance on display that might go unappreciated.

There are no "favorite songs" on Forty-Nine Views. There are a few timbral anomalies which distinguish themselves among the record: the pinging echoes of "Silver Winds" and "Obelisk," the hollow whirls of "Jewels In The Sand," and the sudden peaks and valleys in songs like "Sleeping Stillness" or "Waves In Plumes." But these are as likely to impress as the rest of the album, which is without any missteps.

Songs pass in and out in seconds, moving between crystalline synth sounds, faint field recordings, and subtle filters with demonstrative impatience. Each one seems like a bite sized sample, offering themselves up for individual consumption. But for having so many songs to pick from, this record works best as a singular effort. Playing this start to finish, with the transitional silences serving as thematic bridges, has a perfect serenity to it I can't explain. It's a medley of poetic aural miniatures.

Andrew Chalk's work is ceaselessly beautiful, and pastoral, and his packaging is always an essential part to that equation. As with past albums, Forty-Nine Views has the recurring motifs of romantic and illustrative artwork, minimalist handmade sleeves, and Japanese characters for liner notes. A fantastic level of care went into this release.

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