Returning to his ambient roots, Brian Eno gives us 2012's Lux, a piece broken up into 4 parts intended as audio for an art exhibit in Turin, Italy.
Eno's dream-like soundscapes of serenity from space or underwater (can't really tell which) is sprinkled with sparse stray piano notes and chords over gentle drones and twinkles. It produces images of different shades of light slowly morphing into each other as each texture slowly swells and collides into the next with such ease the average listener might not even notice. The thing with this type of music, as pleasant as it can be, it offers you the same experience whether you give it your undivided attention or let it play in the background. In short: it's a either a good yawn or a bad yawn, depending on the listener.
3 illuminous emittances out of 5
Songs Of Note: Lux 1; you get the idea.
Eno's dream-like soundscapes of serenity from space or underwater (can't really tell which) is sprinkled with sparse stray piano notes and chords over gentle drones and twinkles. It produces images of different shades of light slowly morphing into each other as each texture slowly swells and collides into the next with such ease the average listener might not even notice. The thing with this type of music, as pleasant as it can be, it offers you the same experience whether you give it your undivided attention or let it play in the background. In short: it's a either a good yawn or a bad yawn, depending on the listener.
3 illuminous emittances out of 5
Songs Of Note: Lux 1; you get the idea.
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