Newsgroup: it.arti.musica.rock
Titolo: Boards of Canada : Capolavoro

oland Barthes would tell you that myth is a powerful thing, that it
perpetuates itself, that it doesn't need to be created, just allowed room to
develop, that it emerges everywhere within the scope of human culture. By
avoiding face-to-face interviews, by revealing scant biographical
information (and what they did reveal, it transpires, was sometimes false),
by making music characterised by enormous semiotic and literal holes which
practically beg the listener to inject their own interpretations and
construct their own folklore in order to understand it, Boards Of Canada
have inadvertently allowed an entire world of myths to build up around them
over the last decade or so. And now, it seems, they're trying to destroy it.
The Campfire Headphase comes wrapped in a sleeve none-more-Boards-Of-Canada,
turquoise-tinted mildewed Polaroids of dozens and dozens of people who may
no longer exist scattered across the digipak. Song titles (if they are
songs-a dictionary will tell you that a song is something to be sung) such
as "Chromakey Dreamcoat," "'84 Pontiac Dream," and "Tears From The Compound
Eye" fit comfortably alongside the titles from their previous albums and
EPs. The opening seconds of "Into The Rainbow Vein" confirm that the sound
of The Campfire Headphase sits just as flush with their history. But this
was bound to be the case-Boards Of Canada nailed their aesthetic long ago,
and have no desire to change it.
Some myths debunked, and truths revealed. Mike Sandison and Marcus Eoin are
actually brothers (Eoin is Marcus' middle name); they concealed this fact
because they didn't want to be compared to Orbital. Yes, they've used
numerological theories to structure their music, but no, they're not
practicing members of any cult or occult group, despite a few oblique
references placed within their songs. Yes, they are keen on keeping
themselves separate from any perceived scenes or trends, but no, they don't
believe their geographical location is key to the creation of their music.
The duo have also detailed how they artificially age their music, talked
about how they compose, record, and then spend months, if not years,
perfecting everything in post-production. It seems, in telling us this, that
the Sandison brothers are deliberately seeking to erode the intricate
tapestry of theories, rumours and speculations that has surrounded them for
years in order to allow their music a degree of contextual freedom.
Depending how you feel about the band, this is either necessary or
foolhardy.
There are aesthetic changes-the interpolation of (heavily treated) guitars
into the duo's sonic soup has been discussed extensively. Yes, from a
distance it makes The Campfire Headphase sound like My Bloody Valentine, but
it's a lazy comparison. Likewise there are less unsettling vocal sample
interjections, no playground laughter, no oblique quotes about paganism or
distant, childhood declarations of love. It's a less unsettling album
overall, lighter in tone, more directly tuneful and even, on a couple of
occasions, positively uplifting without (much of) a sense of bittersweet
melancholia underpinning it. But it's still far from being Simon &
Garfunkel; most people, faced with The Campfire Headphase, will find it an
uneasy listening experience, even if, after Geogaddi, hardcore BoC fans may
not.
Make no mistake though; this record contains some of the most astounding
music that Boards Of Canada have ever composed. Four minutes into "Peacock
Tail" a tiny, tremulous melody emerges and is as good, as evocative, as
heart-tuggingly uncanny as the nearly intangible movement in "Kid For Today"
(from the In A Beautiful Place Out In The Country EP), perhaps as anything
they've produced before at all. There are the bizarre, upwards-spiralling
melodic fills of "Ataronchronon," the infinite fadeout decay of album closer
"Farewell Fire," the huge (by their standards), almost jubilant tunefulness
of "Satellite Anthem Icarus." "Dayvan Cowboy" is an ambient wash of distant,
corroded, almost unheard hum for two minutes before open, reverberating
guitar chords fall into place and strings lift this typically Boards Of
Canada sound and make it soar like they never have done before. A rattle of
drums three minutes in is like Dylan going electric or something. It's their
most tangible, solid moment of music since "Roygbiv," and it might just be
my favourite song on the album.
Oddly it strikes me with this album that Boards Of Canada and Sigur Ros are
following similar career paths, which no doubt will be blasphemy to some
readers, and that after acclaimed and beautiful breakthroughs (Music Has The
Right To Children and Agaetis Byrjun) and moodier, aesthetic-deepening
follow-ups (Geogaddi and ( ) - you can count Von and Twoism as counterparts
too, if you like), their current records see them re-establishing lines of
communication, focusing themselves and becoming unafraid of their music. The
Campfire Headphase turns previously oblique approaches to building new
worlds of sound in more concise directions, makes Boards Of Canada more
accessible without making them any less special. They are still
isolationist, peculiarly nostalgic, disconcerting and beautiful. They're
still unique. They always will be.
-- 
LACY ROAD:
http://lacyroad.typepad.com/lacy_road/
ATLANTIKA' :
http://lacyroad.typepad.com/atlantika/

 The Campfire Headphase comes wrapped in a sleeve none-more-Boards-Of-Canada,
che robba è, non capisco bene l'inglese, tu lo hai ascoltato o hai preso
solo questa rece dalla rete?
-- 
Francesco Rosano
frances...@iaciners.org
www.iaciners.org

 solo questa rece dalla rete?
semplicemente basa i suoi gusti su quello che legge. anche perché se avesse
veramente ascoltato il disco si sarebbe reso conto della sua mediocrità.