by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

Battery Life is a wholly appropriate title for Neil Cowley’s second solo album. It reflects his experience of bittersweet memories – ‘like a battery, they come with a positive and a negative’, he says. Cowley will reveal all in a forthcoming interview with Arcana, but here he plays out the memories through his piano. He uses a slightly modified instrument, with dampeners often applied for more sensitive volume control, while the main melodic material is dressed with complementary electronics and percussion. These materials draw from ambient and semi-classical sources, though Cowley retains an approach that allows for free improvisation.

What’s the music like?

Intimate and often moving. Cowley avoids by some distance the trappings of arpeggiated piano music, staying well away from the café or the hotel bar and drawing the listener in to the front room or the studio.

In fact the feeling grows that as listeners we are sat right next to Cowley at the piano and able to read his thoughts as he plays. Often he will begin with musical fragments that then blossom into meaningful phrases or riffs on which other thoughts can build, often with percussion and ambient brush strokes for company.

Automata is a good example of Cowley’s careful production of the piano sound itself, employing dampeners and giving effective electronic displacements to the sound. Breaka combines short motifs and windswept atmospherics with a slow but solid rhythm, while more detached figures probe and build up momentum on Ticker Tape.

While a good deal of the tone is serious that does not stop more capricious thoughts, such as those on Scarab Beetle, where little hooks blossom into full blown flights of fancy. The closing Cord brings emotions to a height, still restrained yet deeply meaningful.

Does it all work?

It does. The thoughtful approach is an ideal base from which to work, but through the different tracks Cowley is able to apply instinct, humour and the bittersweet nostalgia that comes with memory recall. The use of perspective through the electronics and ambient effects is subtly applied but gives the music extra layers too.

Is it recommended?

Very much so – a fine and lasting sequel to Hall Of Mirrors, and an album that shows Neil Cowley to be an emotive artist whose fingers have plenty to say.

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reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

Neil Cowley describes his first solo record as ‘his most personal album yet’. It is perhaps inevitable, given the record is his first going it alone after more than a dozen in the company of others, either as the Neil Cowley Trio or earlier as half of chillout duo Fragile State. Yet while Cowley is fully aware of using the ‘most personal’ cliché, it is wholly true. Hall Of Mirrors is all about his love-hate relationship with the piano, which he places centrestage.

What’s the music like?

Although the piano is at the heart of everything, this is no set of display pieces. In fact Hall Of Mirrors is a very quiet and extremely intimate album, drawing the listener in through its lack of volume but making deeply personal music along the way.

Around the piano sit elements of Cowley’s career to date, so at times that means lush, expansive textures that bring to mind the work of Fragile State, while delicate touches and hints of syncopated rhythms draw links to the Neil Cowley Trio.

Cowley’s piano lines unfold naturally, dressed with atmospheric touches. It only takes a couple of seconds for opening track Prayer to set the scene, with an ambling line unfolding through a cushioned piano sound. The piano timbre is beautifully done, giving a sound both old and new at the same time, which we hear again on She Lives In Golden Sands.

Berlin Nights has a nice perspective, the close up piano more staccato this time but complemented with atmospheric noises around. There are some nice touches like the sticks on the cymbals in Just Above It All, while Suadade is rather special, with chimes and what sounds like a funfair in the distance as Cowley’s contemplative music moves slowly in the foreground.

Perhaps the most personal music lies in the middle, the slow moving and withdrawn Time Interrupted, or the soft heartbeat that runs beneath Stand Amid The Roar. Both are lovely episodes for quality time out on the part of the listener.

Does it all work?

Yes. Hall Of Mirrors is knitted together beautifully, and its blend of intimacy and wider comfort is ideally balanced. The music is simple and from the heart – there are no chillout clichés in evidence and Cowley doesn’t work his source material too much, allowing it to speak for itself.

Is it recommended?

Yes, without hesitation. Cowley’s most personal album to date is certainly that – a heartfelt and inventive biography of his musical exploits to date.

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