A gorgeous EP of refined and detuned synths, drums, samples, found sound, and fuzzy voices far off in the distance.
Boards Of Canada’s Music Has The Right To Children (Warp/Matador, 1998) was the theme to my high-school days—cascading through downbeat, nostalgic bliss, it hasn’t aged a bit. Even though the Scottish brothers continue to (slowly) amass a hefty catalog, it is their unique kaleidoscopic signature of times gone by that has me returning for more. Unfortunately BoC take Eoin’s (pun intended) to release campfire sounds, so in times like these, it’s important to explore music by which we can find comfort. Cialyn (aka Alain Pachins) does this with ease and control on The Lone Thistle—a gorgeous EP of refined and detuned synths, drums, samples, found sound, and fuzzy voices far off in the distance. Melodic brush strokes are highlighted by modular swells and engulfing percussion. Cialyn maneuvers through washed-out skewed rhythms, and yet organizes it all with a sense of balance. Eight (relatively) short tracks drift casually through far away memories—the individual musical Polaroid’s run a parallel trajectory to that of the Boards’—but does this comparison really matter? Probably not. What does matter is that The Lone Thistle carefully transports the listener to those forgotten sonic moments in time. A welcomed retreat, and and extended player that remains in constant rotation. Cialyn gets high scores for such a consistent sonic stream of consciousness.
The Lone Thistle is available on Kahvi.
