I’m fond of ambience in pretty much the same way that I am fond of the environment. I live there.
To be in a physical space is all well and good, but the definition of a place’s character can be something far more interesting given the right combination of events, recollections and colour to bring everything to life. And I use the word “colour” quite literally here, as this is the second album this year to provide that strangest of neurological gifts, the synaesthetic response.
Synaesthesia is an odd fellow but it’s less rare than people think, as it’s generally something that passes unnoticed at times. It’s basically a state where (and it’s been a while since I did* the bit about the physical part of psychology at A-Level) the interpretive bits of your brain send the occasional signal to the wrong bit, hence seeing colours etc. Anyway, this is the second album this year that has provided an unexpected visual accompaniment and somewhat unsurprisingly, one half of the duo here came up with the first one as well. Which is making this very difficult to type when the air is dancing in front of my eyes.
A Winged Victory For The Sullen is a collaboration between Dustin O’Halloran and Adam Bryanbaum Wiltzie, both renowned artists and both well-known for producing very cinematic, minimal works. Together here, strengths are combined to produce an album of utter beauty and one that breaks the general rules for ambient/neo-classical recordings by being that little bit more in the foreground than their peers, and actually being a bit catchy into the process.
From start to finish, the album flows through its seven tracks as a single idea with each section only slightly apart from its neighbours, as if we’re being treated to a 45-minute long film with seven scenes but without the conventional visuals to go with them. Beginning with the wonderfully-titled We Played Some Open Chords And Rejoiced, For The Earth Had Circled The Sun Yet Another Year, A Winged Victory For The Sullen strides through three quarters of an hour imploring the listener let the subconscious take over for a bit, not to relax but to take everything in and play. Everything here is composed in every sense of the word; carefully written, arranged and performed without resorting to padding or convention. Pieces are just as long as they need to be (ranging from under three minutes to over twelve) and stand out both individually and as part of the whole. On this listen, my favourite is the stirring Steep Hills of Vicodin Tears, an achingly patient buildup of sound and feeling that paves the way for the album’s epic A Symphony Pathétique, a piece that seems to take a pleasant age to get going, and then almost as long again to play itself out; something that is not so much a tune as a musical pulse that is a genuine emotional experience.
A Winged Victory For The Sullen is grandeur without delusion, noble without pretence and emotional without parallel. It’s one of those records that transcends description and genre, heading off in its own direction and sinking in to the musical consciousness without the listener noticing that it’s doing so until the second playthrough when each part of each piece is recalled and received as if they had always been there. This is a record that is so easy to take to heart from the very first listen, and easier still to keep there. Hopefully this collaboration isn’t a one-off; this is a pairing that I hope to bear fruit for many years to come.
*And failed to complete
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