This is an eye-opener for morning play. A bouncy, tuba and squeebox-driven Alpine drinking song. At least, I’m guessing it’s a drinking song. Almost impossible to hear the jaunty sway of the music and not visualize a long wooden table full of cheery Germanic folk waving their giant beer flagons in time with the music.
We were delivered to the second track on this album, seeming to indicate a brief touchdown in the record by an earlier listener. We were greedy and listened to two songs.
But the fourth song is waiting for the next adventurous listener…
by Christopher Finckel – on the album “Music of Ellen Taaffe Zwilich & Eleanor Cory”
Thoughtful, provocative, surprisingly sensual, and thoroughly modern chamber music beautifully played: a real find for adventurous tastes!
This 3 track piece was track 9 on its album (seeming to suggest others have dipped into the album at least a bit) and it’s a polytonal delight (if one likes that sort of thing and this writer does).
Ominous arcos from strings and growling reeds from the chamber ensemble, skittering cascades of polytone melodies that refuse to stay inside conventional diatonic boundaries, aggressive chord cadences from the piano. This went into the ‘favorites’ library of my own (non-Spotify) subscription service before the first brief movement was half over.
Superb, challenging music. Put this on for the Skrillex fan in your household.
As usual with recordings with a fair amount of dynamic range, you will need to be wary of super-loud advertising breaks if you are listening on Spotify free.
I have to preface my playing of this track with this observation: this jacket and title really scare me.
Man, have I got intuition or what.
It’s a polished, big sounding production, Fabio Jr. won’t make you tear your ears off your head or anything, but 15 seconds into the second song I’ve heard (others had listened to the first 8 tracks, apparently, so we ended up sent to track 9 by the Forgotify ‘bots) — and I’ve got a strong compulsion to turn it off.
I’m going with that urge.
Maybe someone could love this. But… well… some stuff belongs in the forgotten fifth. They’re not all keepers.
That said, Fabio Jr. has, since 1976, released about an album a year. So, someone somewhere must love him. There is someone for everyone. They tell me.