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Mirror, "Shadows"
Mirror has expanded: joining Christoph Heemann and Andrew Chalk areTimo Van Luijk of Af Ursin and Noise-Makers Fife's and Vicky Jackman(no relation to David). Van Luijk has described himself as a "musicalbuddhist," and the connotations this carries practically melts into thespirit of this live recording.Three Poplars
Mirror is aware of something hiddenbehind the world of appearances; walking silently in the wake of theirmusic are all manners of hushed events and murky images culled from thesleeping side of the imagination. Their process of assembling uniquesounds into colossal monuments of musical energy has resulted in atapestry of intrigue on Shadows.It begins quietly, as many Mirror records do, and escalates into acomplex thread of throbbing oscillations, warped choirs of naturalsamples, and synthetic wounds. The music is almost taunting me attimes, acting as though it will reveal the source of its whistles andsirens and just as I am about to uncover the spring that feeds one ofthe sounds, it shifts and slips away. It either speeds up, flowingforward in time and distorting itself in fits of interference or itslows down and goes where I can't: backwards towards its own origins. Afigure begins to emerge within the single 45 minute track as it creepsalong, forming the impression that every second on Shadows isdedicated to an occurrence that continues to resonate long after it hasculminated and ceased to be. I want to speculate that the aftershock ofa murder has somehow been stretched through time, but the sweepingdynamics of this recording suggest something far more revelatory andcomplex. Whale calls, no... radio signals (maybe both) begin to lurkwithin this sound-picture before it is even half over and the subtleinclusion of static or rainfall paint a portrait of a lonely figurelost at sea and crushed by the weight of hopelessness. Steady machinefuzz, bird calls, faintly rhythmic reverberations, wrecked gongs andbells, and the possible sound of smeared screaming and guitar allregister throughout Shadows, but every listen reveals that Ihad the sound source wrong. Police sirens take the place of wailing,water drops materialize where plucked strings or computer chirpsexisted before, and the album takes on a whole new shape in aperplexing and exciting way each time it spins. It's impossible toenumerate everything happening on this record as what I think might bethere at times escapes and reshapes itself the second I try to pin itdown. This is undoubtedly one of the finest Mirror recordings I haveever heard. Its constant metamorphosis is transfixing and meditativeand undeniably beautiful.
Mirror is aware of something hiddenbehind the world of appearances; walking silently in the wake of theirmusic are all manners of hushed events and murky images culled from thesleeping side of the imagination. Their process of assembling uniquesounds into colossal monuments of musical energy has resulted in atapestry of intrigue on Shadows.It begins quietly, as many Mirror records do, and escalates into acomplex thread of throbbing oscillations, warped choirs of naturalsamples, and synthetic wounds. The music is almost taunting me attimes, acting as though it will reveal the source of its whistles andsirens and just as I am about to uncover the spring that feeds one ofthe sounds, it shifts and slips away. It either speeds up, flowingforward in time and distorting itself in fits of interference or itslows down and goes where I can't: backwards towards its own origins. Afigure begins to emerge within the single 45 minute track as it creepsalong, forming the impression that every second on Shadows isdedicated to an occurrence that continues to resonate long after it hasculminated and ceased to be. I want to speculate that the aftershock ofa murder has somehow been stretched through time, but the sweepingdynamics of this recording suggest something far more revelatory andcomplex. Whale calls, no... radio signals (maybe both) begin to lurkwithin this sound-picture before it is even half over and the subtleinclusion of static or rainfall paint a portrait of a lonely figurelost at sea and crushed by the weight of hopelessness. Steady machinefuzz, bird calls, faintly rhythmic reverberations, wrecked gongs andbells, and the possible sound of smeared screaming and guitar allregister throughout Shadows, but every listen reveals that Ihad the sound source wrong. Police sirens take the place of wailing,water drops materialize where plucked strings or computer chirpsexisted before, and the album takes on a whole new shape in aperplexing and exciting way each time it spins. It's impossible toenumerate everything happening on this record as what I think might bethere at times escapes and reshapes itself the second I try to pin itdown. This is undoubtedly one of the finest Mirror recordings I haveever heard. Its constant metamorphosis is transfixing and meditativeand undeniably beautiful.samples:
