The calligraphic waft of Arve Henriksen’s trumpet is its own woozy, ethereal fug – through his horn and with his occasional vocalisations he has, over a double-handful of records (recording prolifically) created his own language – an ambient-jazz that is all at once hypnotic and yet hard to grasp. It hangs in the distance but is always inviting – the tone that he has shaped and created comes from the wooden/bamboo flutes – you might not quite believe you’re hearing a trumpet the first few times.
Here we have another magical round of soul-stirring, meditative, tranquil and fascinating musical soundscapes; the title track could inform a Thom Yorke project, Demarcation Line feels like Aphex Twin in a soft, crepuscular setting, and joining Henriksen again is fellow Norwegian musical magician Erik Honore (who has delighted with his solo albums as well as his work with Henriksen, Eno and Nils Petter Movaer, among others).
Can you imagine if Eno had decided to treat Miles Davis’ horn lines rather than the gently cascading piano of Harold Budd? Well that’s some of the sound here. Eno’s work with Jon Hassell isn’t any sort of touchstone here, for that pulses and thrives in a different way altogether; Henriksen’s horn is softer, gentler and in this album – as the title tells us – it’s moving ever on towards creating its own language, an actual vocabulary is all but arriving – can be spotted in sepia tones, hiding behind the gossamer mist.
I could imagine this as soundtrack for a meditation – and I hold onto that thought when listening to it; sometimes you need something to frame your occasional chance to just stare out the window. This is an album for that. Worth finding the time for; it will make the spaces and angles within time stretch and warp and fold in on themselves as you enjoy a chance for some sort of spiritual contemplation. Another fine piece of mood conjuring from one of my go-to musicians across the last half-decade. He seems incapable of letting me down – and like Eno and Aphex and others working around the confines of ambient spaces Arve never quite repeats himself yet remains utterly distinctive.