Switched On – Craven Faults: Sidings (The Leaf Label)

Reviewed by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

Craven Faults is proving to be a particularly fertile source of long-form instrumental music. Created by a single, anonymous hand, its pictorial approach leans on industry for inspiration but looks beyond that, creating an intriguing form of descriptive ambience. This has already been shown in double-length albums Erratics & Unconformities and Standers, and a number of EPs.

“The journey on Sidings isn’t made with people in mind. It begins in an isolated community which has built up around one of the great engineering projects of its age. The work is slow and perilous – thousands of men at the mercy of the elements. The ground is frozen or flooded for months on end, while red kites circle overhead. 14 tunnels and 22 viaducts to open up the north. The on-beat and the off-beat interchange. Recorded in 1969, Olympic Studios – a precursor to the ships we built.

We walk northeast in search of a distance marker. When it first comes into view, it looks similar to where we commenced our journey on ‘Bounds.’ The open moorland gives it away. This particular trip will take considerably longer, by foot and packhorse, before the land and power is redistributed by order of parliament. Just shy of fifteen minutes between 1952 and 1964 – from J&M Studio, New Orleans to the San Francisco Tape Music Centre. Rapid progress and consistently fertile ground.

As the sun rises, we make our way by road to a junction. There is a livestock market and an inn for travellers. It’s important to make the journey before the seasons change and this area becomes inaccessible. An idea almost lost in the mists of time – a West German prototype unearthed twelve years later. A little way due south, we arrive at another crossroads. We find a maestro labouring over his masterwork – Gold Star Studios, United Western Recorders, Columbia Studios and Capitol Studios. October 3rd, 1966 to November 20th, 1968. Inspired by the story of another community building the railways. The circle is complete and encompasses continents.

We continue south, hitching a ride on a finely turned-out cart. We help to unload the churns onto the platform and wait for the train to arrive. Our cargo will head east before switching tracks to be delivered into urban areas. Hundreds of thousands of gallons per year. The Black Ark, 1977.

From there we head north and west a little way and find ourselves near to where we began. Another temporary settlement built up along the line, where each chord occupies its own space. Wally Heider in 1967 and finished off at home a year later. Spikes driven into the frozen ground and the Kirkstall Forge hammer in the dead of night. Finding order in the chaos.

We strike a deal with the local farm and walk a thousand heads of cattle to market. The ground is heavy and it’s slow going – it will take the best part of a week. We stop to graze at Suma Recording Studio, 1978 and then Sunwest, 1969. We reach the end of our journey via a final rest stop – an enclosed field on the moor we hovered over on ‘Standers.’ 1858. An outgrown coda and proof that two chords will suffice. Three is a luxury. A radio enthusiast intercepts government secrets – Cargo Studios, 1980.

What’s the music like?

Once again, the music matches the story – and Sidings unfolds in subtle yet compelling form, finding a meditative sweet spot on Ganger that never lets up, with shimmering figures in the half-light above a supportive, broadly phrased drone.

The start of Stoneyman is initially like the summons of a bell, above a drum with an ominous tread, while Three Loaning End slows the tempo, with an oddly persuasive lilt. Incline is scattered with melodic fragments that have the quality of settling snow, again over the reassurance of a supportive bass drone. Far Closes, meanwhile, operates with a steadying kick drum pulse beneath subtly shifting figures.

Does it all work?

It does. This is an album to get thoroughly engrossed in, rewarding its listeners with vivid and captivating imagery.

Is it recommended?

Very much so. Craven Faults’ music is distinctive and forward looking, yet extremely conscious of its recent past. The blend is both fascinating and rewarding, becoming a form of 21st century English electronica with an uncanny awareness of its surroundings.

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Published post no.2,776 – Friday 23 January 2026

Switched On – Craven Faults: Yard Loup (The Leaf Label)

by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

As the new Craven Faults album Sidings nears release, The Leaf Label have teased another of its eight tracks. Yard Loup is much shorter than the previous single Far Closes, but gives an indication of the sonic world in which the producer is operating.

What’s the music like?

Picturesque – in that it paints many images in the mind’s eye. Craven Faults has a way of working that combines long drone phrases and quicker, less defined movements, in this case a gently shimmering treble. In this case the image conjured up is a wintry, watery scene.

Does it all work…and is it recommended?

It does, though I suspect it will work a lot better in the context of the album. It certainly whets the appetite.

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You can listen to the two tracks from Sidings below:

Published post no.2,760 – Wednesday 7 January 2026

Switched On – Craven Faults: Bounds (The Leaf Label)

by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

The mysterious Craven Faults knows exactly how to tell a story. The accompanying text for the four track album Bounds does just that, describing the third album as “another 37-minute journey through Northern England via a lifetime obsessing at the fringes of popular culture. New details and perspectives. Dusk gathering.

There’s some discussion over where this journey begins. Certainly, less than twenty miles north-west of the city, but possibly much closer. Ironic given we’re searching for a distance marker. A gritstone pillar is the prime candidate – destroyed by lightning almost 200 years ago, and then rebuilt a quarter of a mile away. A curiosity. Many a journey starts here these days, as we take flight and head further north and west. The tarn was drained in 1940 to protect critical infrastructure. We leave the sounds of heavy industry behind us to float weightlessly over the moors.

We pick up pace and hit those levels of repetition engineered to the highest standards in Düsseldorf and Köln, 1971. A gift to the world. At this point the altitude is no longer clear; there’s no sense of scale. We could be a matter of inches from the ground, but the patterns are the same. Eventually we arrive at a hillside with no defined boundaries. The limestone pavement is visible in parts, and snaps us into focus once again.

It’s a little way east for our next stop, very close to where the journey began on Standers. Documents from 1651 suggest an arbitrary drawing of boundaries, the distribution of power and wealth set down in pen and ink and then passed down through generations. We beat a path around the perimeter. The divides still exist although the crab apple tree is long gone. Melodies give way to bent notes and dissonance.

We take a circuitous trip to Hamburg and Rome for filming between February 11 and April 23, 1972. A slower pace. Less structure, but emotive, evolving. The master touch, indeed. One final job before retiring and living off the land for the next 373 years.”

What’s the music like?

Reading the text as an accompaniment to the music is very helpful, for it puts this slow-moving discourse in perspective. Yet in spite of its quite restrained nature, and its restricted tempo, Craven Faults secures music of stature, laden with atmospheric touches.

The four tracks unfold effortlessly, but not without tension, with each prompted by a sonorous, slow-moving bass. Groups Hollows moves at two speeds simultaneously, with the slow tread of the bass against a quicker rhythmic profile, and a twinkling loop adding colour up top.

Meanwhile the crossrhythms of Lampes Mosse create an intriguing picture before the epic, sprawling Waste & Demesne which casts a spell – again slow movement against quicker, before the elegant line at the top is left in isolation.

Does it all work?

It does. Craven Faults’ music has a timeless quality to it, and provided you experience the album with all frequencies available – especially bass! – you’ll get the most immersive experience from Bounds.

Is it recommended?

Yes, enthusiastically. Craven Faults are one of those outfits who have mastered the art of ‘less is more’, and this quartet of captivating tableaus tells as vivid a story as the text accompanying it. Essential listening for those who have already latched on to their talents.

For fans of… Luke Abbott, Boards Of Canada, Mogwai, Aphex Twin

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Published post no.2,356 – Friday 8 November 2024

On Record – Laurence Pike – The Undreamt-of Centre (The Leaf Label)

by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

The idea of composing a requiem for voices, drums and electronics has sat with Australian percussionist Laurence Pike for some time. Having explored the ‘processes and ecstatic outcomes of rituals’ on the Holy Spring album of 2019, he became more and more interested in applying contemporary instrumentation to an ancient religious form.

The death of his father-in-law in July 2021, in the middle of another Covid lockdown in Sydney, brought a prolonged period of sombre reflection for Pike, along with the well-documented environmental disasters in his homeland. With a new-found appreciation for nature, inspired by his wife’s late father, Pike resolved to write the requiem. For inspiration on the text he turned from the Latin text usually associated with requiem to the poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke, and in particular his Sonnets to Orpheus – inspired by the classical Greek myth.

What’s the music like?

Both striking and moving. Pike has always shown great invention in his writing, whether in a solo capacity or as a third of the excellent Szun Waves, but here he goes above and beyond.

In his use of percussion the listener can link to Japanese ambient music, while the choral writing is a blend of the ancient – Allegri’s Miserere, perhaps, heard most explicitly in the apex of the Introit – and more modern and rarefied Estonian works for choir.

All these come together on the thrilling Mountains Of The Heart section, a remarkable sequence of energetic drumming and high, held notes from the choir that take the music to the air. This is music of immense power and energy, but it is balanced with thoughtful asides and reflective moments that give the listener space. Universal Forces and All Is Distance are two such sections, intense meditations where Pike also uses the mysterious effect of quarter tones.

Eurydice is a profound, piano-led instrumental, laced with percussive counterpoint and field recordings that complement rather than intrude. This leads to the Requiem Aeternam itself, a combination of stasis (the wordless choir) and movement (percussion), with electronics also intoning a melody of ancient origin. It is an intense song without words.

Does it all work?

It does – and an immense amount of credit should go to the performers, not least the Vox Sydney Philharmonia Choir, the twelve singers who take on any challenge thrown at them. Pike’s drumming has immense power at times

Is it recommended?

Yes, enthusiastically. Laurence Pike has made something very special here, a piece of music that contrasts moments of great energy and contemplation. The Undreamt-of Centre is very much an album for our times.

For fans of… Tonu Korvits, Arvo Pärt, John Tavener, Philip Glass

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Published post no.2,311 – Tuesday 24 September 2024

On Record – Matthew Bourne: This Is Not For You (The Leaf Label)

by Ben Hogwood

What’s the story?

Matthew Bourne returns to first principles, with his first solo piano album since the 2017 release Isotach.

The press release reveals that there are, however, some restrictions around the recording of the album, “born from an off-hand comment by one of Matthew Bourne’s confidants. His instruction, “Do not delete,” provided Bourne with a commission of sorts, an ideal restriction to work within. Everything on the album was given a chance to shine in the studio, to be worked on amongst the freedom of that no deletion diktat – new inspirations now lie beside deep-mined remembrances. Cello and Dulcitone have been added sparingly for colour, but this is Bourne playing for his own enjoyment. Intimate. Reserved even. The real Matthew Bourne?”

What’s the music like?

There is a stillness about Matthew Bourne’s playing on this album that proves to be rather moving. Every note is carefully considered and weighted, and delivered in a conversational manner that makes the listener feel they are the only person in the room with him.

The titles give this away too, personal reflections like To Francesca, Dissemble (for Brian Irvine), Only When It Is (In Memoriam Bill Kinghorn) and Dedicated To You, Because You Were Listening (In Memoriam Keith Tippett) The first of these uses rich cello and crystalline Dulcitone beautifully to complement its lightly questioning phrases. The Bill Kinghorn and Keith Tippett tributes are stately, the latter with a mournful, tolling motif that gathers power before subsiding to near silence.

By contrast The Mirror And Its Fragments has an eerie undertone, with low cello again in the mix.

Does it all work?

It does – being a completely unforced way of making music. The emphasis is on communication of feelings and meanings more than anything else, with the result that the ‘less is more’ approach winds hands down.

Is it recommended?

It is. While Matthew Bourne’s exploits on the big screen should be encouraged, and his more experimental workings with keyboards and other instrumental groups, it is great to hear him go back to where it all began. With new insights, this is a piano-led album to savour.

For fans of… Yann Tiersen, Dustin O’Halloran, Zbigniew Preiser

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Published post no.2,254 – Monday 29 July 2024