Monday. The rain blows through Hotaling alley -- a gusty, nautical spray. If I close my eyes and add the scent of sea salt, it's easy to imagine the Transamerica has sunk into the ocean -- and I'm instead standing before an endless, sloshing field of blue.There's something instantly refreshing about this wind-whipped coastal squall -- damn refreshing, I'd say. My senses are energized, my inner scot awakened.
As I consume this meteorological tonic, I'm thinking about William Orbit and his magical album. It's a good album. A great album. In fact, it's pretty much a masterpiece. I wouldn't say this if I didn't believe Hello Waveforms can withstand some pretty high expectations.
This is the music that I would give to Richard Bruce. This is the music that adds dimension to almost any day, regardless of season or weather. This is the music that you always suspected was being made by forest elves in some forgotten, half-lit glade. Or perhaps it was crafted deep below the ocean's surface by a school of superintelligent squid.
As I listen, it seems that the opium-induced dreams of Ulrich Schnauss have melted into caramelized memories of a carnival from my youth, played back at one-half speed.
A toast to William Orbit. The man is the acoustic equivalent of sublime.
