Producer Stumbleine’s seventh album, offers, say the Press notes, “a deep submergence within a celestial upper region somewhere beyond the clouds”, which in a nutshell is Moby in his more thoughtful moments.
It’s a decent album, albeit low key: one for late nights and reflection. If you weren’t locked in your house, it would be one for playing to chill out to, after a night clubbing. Very Rob Da Bank at 5.30am. Perhaps a bit M83, though too easy-going to be innovative.
It’s warm and comforting music, breaking no new ground but good for its predictability.
We couldn’t really go through it song by song; there are nice bits and less noticeable bits, so it’s more like a playlist of chill-out music than anything, though being one album it’s got more coherence. It’s got a dubby feel in places, and we played some Burial after this; it’s got the same vibe, if not originality.
It’s mainly instrumental but there are some vocals; Elizabeth Heaton, of Midas Fall, joins in for one song, but, like the music, her warm voices wafts over your ears like a warm breeze.
Lost To The World opens like it’s going to make more of an impact but ultimately can’t be arsed; Words Fail Me seems an ironic title for an instrumental album, with a Transatlanticism-era Death Cab sound.
Having said that, it’s nice to listen to, which is the point of music when all’s said and done. As well as the usual digital and CD it comes with a limited pressing on cream vinyl with a free album CD inside. See monotremerecords.limitedrun.com
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