Greg Fenton reviews Five Green Moons – Moon 1. – Pamela Records
Sounding distinctly modern while soaking up the embers of the past only translates into practical meaning in the hands of certain artists. Justin Robertson’s latest album shines brightly in that regard, full of promise and mysterious intrigue like the temptation of illicit excitement appearing at any uncertain moment.
It’s a deep dive into oceans of imagination alerting the listener to discover sights found in locations they might not have thought to look. As with all music, you can hear reference points along the way but the suggestion of borrowed influence pales into insignificance when realising that the album defiantly plays on its own terms. This is about the artist’s intrinsic mindset, not stealing someone else’s.
The reason why it’s hard to pin any one thing down is the wildly diverse selection of styles as they deliberately disorientate your expectation of how it should all sound, sidestepping neat genre boxes to produce music that tears open new landscapes. Listen to Garbage Van Exhaust as strange echoes reverberate around a pulsating bassline while edgy effects and voices conjure up fragments and pictures in the mind. An extraordinary composition of ideas, form and atmosphere which is as much about originality and art for art’s sake as it is about whatever the title might curiously refer to. This is followed by the sublime drum-machine propulsion of I See All And I See Nothing and its touching, introspective enquiry. There is a beautiful resilience at play here and you can almost picture Jerry Garcia’s lost guitar playing far off in a grateful cosmos. Likewise, are the jubilant arpeggios charging Song Of Dust amid its smouldering spoken incantations. However, each number justifies its existence throughout as you will hear from surreal, tripped-out adventures to delicate and emotionally provocative these three are merely picked out randomly.
Moon 1. feels like an exploration but also like someone having fun in the act of creating. Perhaps most importantly the music doesn’t feel programmed either. It feels alive in the room. Which can only be a personal statement of intent talking about vitality, time and space, the philosophy of being, and the poignancy of loss. We could do with hearing more of these ideas to light up the dullness of functional repetition or god-forbid, brand endorsement. If the excitement of discovery brings you to music as a cure for everything else proposed this could be a thrilling starting point.
Buy vinyl at Rough Trade
Justin Robertson’s website
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