Monday, February 22, 2010

Tea and Music of Early 2010

Alright, 2010!!

I have been drinking some Tanyang Gong Fu Black tea from Dragon Tea House which is delicious! I have also been drinking kuradashi gyrokuru, kukicha and kabusecha from "isenocha" on eBay. The best deal on aged Japanese Greens available on the net.

All this tea has been great to me. I have coffee very seldom now, solely as a treat.

In addition to tea, I enjoy many a musical sensations. Many bands that are low-key and an absolute delight to listen to. Here is a record I recently picked up...

The Seven Fields of Aphelion

The Seven Fields of Aphelion may be a member of Black Moth Super Rainbow, but with her debut solo outing Periphery, she’s left the tweaked dance floor glitches in the black forest, and wandered into a hazy sun-dappled meadow. Swirling vintage synthesizers and piano dwell amongst the grasses, flowers and ruins of abandoned factories in this forgotten place.

Over twelve tracks, Periphery acts as a travelogue through otherworldly, yet somehow soothingly familiar sonic landscapes. Synth layers grow slowly and organically into swells of pulsating tone so palpable, you’d swear that they are breathing. Haunting piano lines effortlessly dart their way in and out of the mire, like a group of pilot fish fearlessly zipping around a Great White.

But there is also a very real and warm emotion in this
music. Periphery plays like a shoebox of curling yellowed photographs, lost in an attic somewhere that has only recently been unburied and rediscovered, giving faded-color evidence to half-recalled memories.
Each of these wordless tales is an exercise in trying to bring back the stories behind those frozen-still images that were captured in front of the Super 8’s and Polaroids of lost times. Similarly, the album’s artwork
(featuring multiple exposure photography from The Seven Fields of Aphelion) conjures up old thoughts and dusty emotions through a carefully applied lens. Perhaps these aren’t your memories, but there’s a certain déjà vu quality to them that has you second guessing yourself; maybe you have been to these places before.

Periphery is as comforting and warmly familiar as finding your favorite childhood toy, but carries with it the same discernable sadness that comes from knowing those times have passed. Its fragile, ambient soundscapes of piano and synthesizer reflect glimmers of forgotten feelings with each gentle inflection and shift in tone.

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