John Carlson received his spurs at Cornish college of the arts in Seattle, studying dance and classical ballet, and as a freelance composer, he's since strung tother some eighty odd drama productions and plays.
With this 3'' ep, which dangles and ferments in its viscera for nearly twenty-five minutes, Carlson sounds more comfortable and confidant in propounding his musical signature: a succession of piquant, bucolic pieces for solo piano. In fact, though the piano predominates, the opener "Remembrance" takes up this particular penchant with gusto and emphatic musicality. A snakelike melodic lead, beautifully melancholic, wavers and wends onto a tasteful encounter with a celebratory drum passage during the compositions final few minutes.
The next two works then drop down to a dwelling wherein each tone is played as though it alone existed. Both are delicate and watery, like weak camomile tea, yet without being too pale and soft. Though brief, there aren't any longueurs in these beautifully restrained and eventful pieces. Everything ends with "Emily", whose reflective and repetitive piano is accompanied by a progressively insistent kick-drum, further impressing this albums manifold orientations into one's own rough-hewn skin.
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