Apparently, I buy too many records

My wife Helen, like every other woman i've ever lived with, believes that I buy too many records.

Which, as every record-buying man knows, is a ridiculous belief.

I will concede, however, that I do indeed buy a lot of records and that I don't afford them the same amount of listens and attention that I did 20 or 30 years ago.

To this end, I have decided to blog about the records that I buy, in order to help my appreciation of them - and perhaps to show Helen that I don't buy that many records after all.

Because i'm crap with deadlines the blog posts will be sporadic and probably be about a month or 2 behind but that's just the way i am! The posts will not necessarily be actual reviews (most likely comments, at best) and will generally be pretty damn short due to the reasons outlined above. As a writer in a previous existence i have decided not to worry about writing as art in the pieces but, instead, to attempt to convey feeling over semantic (and often grammatic) perfection.

And 'OCRB'? It stands for 'Obsessive Compulsive Record Buying' - a little known mental health affliction that is potentially damaging to the bank account but ultimately life-affirming. It is sad.......but a nice form of sad.

Wednesday 30 March 2011

Deaf Centre: Owl Splinters (Type)


Cello and Piano, two of my most favoured instruments, both have the ability to create a mood of despair and longing that can move the most hardarsed motherfucker to tears. On this album they up the atmosphere to build in a sense of contemplative dread that has you frequently listening on the edge of your seat. Do not make the mistake of lumping this with similarly instrumented ambient works - this is an album that should be listened to and requires your full attention to experience the shifting patterns and depth of beauty. The piano occasionally shows shades of prettiness but there is often something swooping underneath, quietly, that threatens to slam the lid on the pianist's fingers. 'The day i would never have' being a case in point, where the opening solo piano is slowly subsumed by the metallic roar of the cello until it is evaporated by the sweeping, crashing, chords - until nothing remains and all is dark, by which time the darkness crashes, leaving a simple piano melody to leave the side on a sense of beauty again. Sometimes this record scares me but always this record encompasses me.

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