(Oooh, such pretty artwork!)
Those who know me personally and engage me about the music I actually like will know to expect three names; Radiohead, Duran Duran and, my love of all loves, Bonobo. In my previous review I stated that the life of a music critic is relatable to that of a prostitute, and if that’s the case then Bonobo is the man I freely offer myself to without the faintest request of compensation. He pleases me in ways few can and he has held my adoration and constant attention since I first discovered him. Spotify failing to load was all the encouragement I needed to rant on this absolutely flawless display of audio mastery.
My experiences of forcing this incredible orchestra of sound to others has proven that the music is something of an acquired taste. Either you can appreciate the subtlety in dynamic shifts, the finely crafted moods and ambience, phenomenal groove and remarkable combination of Lo-Fi and Hi-Fi production or you’re clearly lacking the mentality to comprehend and relate to this stunning display of audio orgasm. We all know of my ability to find fault in an album or piece of work, it’s just a byproduct of being such a fantastical cunt, but I can honestly say I can find no fault in the the album which isn’t better attributed to mentality and personal taste.
Where I usually compare an album I adore to that of an incredible fuck, this album transcends this metaphor to a frankly concerning degree! Were I to relate this to a mere fuck, I would have to count it as a glorious, passionate affair under the influence of both MDMA and viagra for the incredible measure of serenity and spiritual ecstasy the album encourages. The album resonates deeply in me and encourages a resurgence of physical feelings I felt at some of the happiest points in my life.
Where I would normally take time to ram my overly-critical flesh-warrior into every available hole in the album at this point, I struggle hugely with this album. I suppose certain mentalities wouldn’t appreciate this album and people demanding a relatable novelty or a catchy chorus would fail to access this album as it is. It’s not structured or written as one would construct a regular style of music but that’s part of the undeniable charm of the album and the artist himself! To complain the lack of traditional style in Bonobo would be like complaining that the guitar tone in a metal song is too overdriven or that there’s too much blatant Pablo Honey influence in Origin of Symmetry.
Were I to engage in sexual acts with only one person for the rest of my life it would likely be Bonobo. He stands in my eyes as the finest representation of music as an art form, releases a consistent stream of high quality and perfectly crafted music and stands as a beautiful night sky, constantly reminding me of the potential beauty to the musical universe. As stated before, those seeking the novelty and simplicity of a traditionally structured song will not appreciate this to the same level and I would certainly not recommend this to the kind of asshole who’s first defence against any musical opposing opinion is “you clearly know nothing about Metal”. Those with an appreciation for incredible ambient feel, dynamic flow and immaculate production should prepare a delicious cocktail, relax and just embrace the exemplary display that is Black Sands.