Often regarded as the original ambient tracks, Erik Satie’s Trois Gymnopédies are much-loved across the genres – and have been since their composition in 1888. Any ‘peaceful piano’ playlist on the digital service platforms is likely to include one of these three pieces, and if it doesn’t will include music falling under their influence.
Part of this is their accessibility, for they are relatively easy to play on the piano…but they are also difficult to get right, for each one casts a particular spell. The simple melodies are deceptively emotive, qualities that Anne Queffélec brings to the fore here:
I still know far too little of Pat Metheny‘s work, but a very good friend – whose musical taste I trust implicitly – introduced me to some of his work made for ECM in the late 1970s. It has stuck with me, but in particular the New Chautauqua album of 1978, which contains this sunny yet hypnotic composition:
Akusmi, the vehicle of London-based French composer Pascal Bideau, looks to match the impact and ambition of its first two albums with a third instalment.
The press release promises a great deal, namely an invitation to “seven faraway sonic imaginariums fusing global and spiritual jazz with life affirming minimalism into a hypnotic, polyrhythmic odyssey”.
Joining Bideau on this odyssey are a host of musicians, even though he himself is something of a one-man band. Terra Incognita features Sarathy Korwar (tabla), Dudú Kouate (percussion, ngoni and flutes), Levitation Orchestra’s Marysia Osu (harp) and Lluís Domènech Plana (flutes) and Daniel Brandt, providing electronics on Anima.
What’s the music like?
Richly colourful. There is a lot going on in Akusmi’s music, a hive of activity that rewards repeated listening, where the intricate inner parts and the freedom of the outer voices can be fully appreciated. The methods and techniques have deepened since previous album Fleeting Future, so the sound is more intricate, but the joy and warmth that make his music so attractive are here again in generous measures.
A Waking Dream is indeed like the start of a new day, starting with nocturnal rustlings but settling into a groove of crossrhythms and bright instrumental colours. Anima and Pleine Lune build on this, the latter especially a riot of colour, with the saxophone flying free up above. Rain Dance is even more propulsive, the ensemble swaying in a dazzling show of unity, while everything comes to a head in Dawning Dusk, an exhilarating track topped by Dudú Kouate’s multi-layered vocal. Kouate it is who secures the swagger to Drongo’s Flute, where the saxophone enjoys further freedom above the groove set by the Senegalese percussionist.
While jazz and Afrobeat are obvious influences here the musical processes Bideau uses are aligned closer to Reich or Glass, taking minimal riffs and developing them through communal means that build the musical intensity. The instrumental colours charm and bewitch, the musical equivalent of throwing open the windows on a sunny day.
Does it all work?
It really does, as Terra Incognita becomes an album of enduring positivity.
Is it recommended?
Yes, wholeheartedly. This is music with the most vibrant colours, reflecting its cover through grooves that sing and dance in unity. A life-affirming album reaffirming Pascal Bideau as a composer who knows no boundaries.
For fans of… Floating Points, Brandt Brauer Frick, Christian Prommer, Philip Glass, Terry Riley
This is the first collaboration between John Berndt, the Baltimore band leader, and M.C. Schmidt, one half of the celebrated duo Matmos. Both have pooled their considertable expertise in avant garde and experimental music in celebration of the comic books of Jean Giraud (aka Moebius) and “the beautiful miniatures of the SKY Records Cluster/Eno/Conny Plank collaborations”.
The result is an electronic record looking simultaneously backwards and forwards.
What’s the music like?
Packed with incident across an eventful three-quarters of an hour. There is so much going on here that repeated listening is essential to absorb and appreciate the sheer scale of the pair’s inventions.
At times their music sounds like an update of Anton Webern or John Cage, so compressed is its thinking, while the pair cast the net ever wider in search of extra instrumental colour. Humour abounds, with witty thoughts bubbling under the surface as the music ebbs and flows. Especially notable are Our Theme, which behaves like the tuning process of an analogue radio, the descriptive Gecko Lazzaro, featuring trombonist Patrick Crossland and guitarist Owen Gardner, and The Analysis of Joel, a playful and colourful shredding of lines from guitarist Joel Knispel.
3000 is typical of the warmth coursing through the album, its percussion suggesting African influences.
Does it all work?
Yes, in a way that makes you want to return often to Cloud Machines to see what else you can spot. There are so many musical happenings it can be difficult to keep up at first, but as the secrets reveal themselves so too does the pair’s full invention.
Is it recommended?
Yes, without a doubt – fans of the pair’s previous work will lap this up. Be assured, the music is every bit as colourful and as far out as the wonderful cover art!
“She was my savior. And that was the problem. What was I to her? An empty prayer. A hollow hand.”
This quote comes from Kevin Brooks’ short film, For Goodbyes, and it resonated with pianist and producer Emil Friis, providing the inspiration and the title for this new EP of compositions.
As the press release describes, Friis uses “a carefully assembled recording chain consisting of Extinct Audio ribbon microphones, a vintage U47 and additional FET microphones — alongside processing through Moog filters and a Wellspring reverb unit”. To this he adds field recordings captured in Italy during the summer of 2025.
What’s the music like?
Hands, Hollowed proceeds with a steady toll from the piano, though surrounding it are clouds and watery ripples that reflect and refract the music. Some Fine Afternoon is drowsy in a really appealing way, a languid piano arpeggio dressed with something more ornate but equally calming.
Hands, Remembered is a slow memorial piece, stately in the progress of its piano chords but rather beautiful in the muffled chorale that surrounds them. As Sun I Meet You Now is an extended composition, which through its insistent electronic ticking initially sounds as though someone left a machine on by accident, at a distance of a quarter tone to the music. It introduces a blend of comfort and unease, resolved in the toll for the right hand with which the piece ends, a powerful and affirmative statement.
Does it all work?
It does – the four movements taken together provide a distinctive and valuable time out.
Is it recommended?
Yes. Dreamy escapism is on offer with this EP, but look closer and the detail is equally there to enjoy in subsequent listens. Recommended.
