Strewn together during a stay at a Manor Farm House in the South of England, Hidden Name invents its own mythic past. Its swooning, woody tones and swathes of haunting, echoing noise wipe away timeâ€™s contributions and seek out original memory, a universal stillness, a tantalizing quiver of immobility.
Seductive subtleties are present in the manners in which clusters of piano, flute and cello form new tonal configurations while always seeking union with a sky of pealing electronics. Compositions such as â€˜Fugueâ€™ have the fluid motion and expansiveness of the sea, as it cradles digital debris and bells that toll and reverberate. Other pieces, especially â€˜Quartet For Flute, Piano And Celloâ€™, maintain this fluttering delicacy and pendulous musing while at the same time embracing a grim eloquence, as the gurgling electronics pick up some grit and grime from the guttural, sibilant scraping of a violin. Such moments stand out as fleeting nightmares in an album that otherwise breathes with audible regularity.
Pieces on a whole are short, yet compositionally measured so as to convey an enriched sense of depth and vividness. At just under two minutes in length, â€˜Belle Etoileâ€™, with its clanking piano refrain, is slowly filled out by incidental sounds and light digital nicks and scratches, until all of a sudden the heavy beating of rain reveals that one is caught outside in a wide-open pasture of red-singed autumn gardens. â€˜The Planetsâ€™, meanwhile, is a voluptuous twenty-minute composition which is draped in tender ambience and flickering, theremin-like pulses that continue to divulge these solemn, graceful themes.