I have the owned the first Espers album and a couple of tracks off the second for a while, after hearing the blissful Children Of Stone and recognising that something very special was afoot. I ordered a copy of this album and then eagerly set about the internet reading reviews for it. Perhaps I was putting the cart before the horse there, as I soon found myself wondering if it had been a rash choice, when the majority of the reviews I found turned out to be rather tepid, describing the album as being a failed attempt to couple the strong points of the first album with aspects of the second to conjure something greater still, or of cluttering the songs with excess noise. When the cd arrived I was therefore a little cautious, and braced for disappointment.
First impressions were not unlike those online reviews: I heard moments of stark beauty drifting by, and alluring songcraft harking back to classic British folk-rock, with some quite lovely singing, accompanied by sonic intrusions that seemed to walk a fine line between embellishing and vandalising their delicate balance. In particular the frequent disturbances made by the buzzing electric guitar drones swiftly lost their appeal, and began to sound like the neighbour's circular saw cutting into tranquility. So, after the first listen I was siding with some of the critics, and I can only wonder if said critics didn't bother to spend much more time with the album than their first listen, because two or three listens later I found I had become very fond of most of the songs, (even growing to like those swooping skreeking violin refrains on Sightings, which I felt sure would always grate) and the circular saw simile seemed un-necessary as everything coalesced.
I particularly like the first four songs, gems all, that create their own hushed microcosms, such exquisite tunes and wise choice of textures, and some truly lovely singing from both Meg and Greg, for song after song... It is easy to forget about the world and take on the shapes of these pieces while they last. Meg's singing has traces of Celia Humphries and Jacqui McShee, and a delicateness that brings to mind Rachel Goswell. Greg sounds more contemporary somehow, whilst Meg really seems to embody something of the late 60's and early 70's folk-rock scene, and the combination of the two of them singing together is very effective.
There is strangeness aplenty throughout the album, sometimes just in the form of a shifting backdrop of shapes that inhabit the peripheral vision, at other times more centrally situated, as on Colony, which plunges headlong into a heady ritualistic space with disembodied vocals, acoustic guitar and keyboards building to passages of glissading electric guitar, snatches of tumbling percussion not unlike some early Pink Floyd perambulations, and a grinding, crackling peak. It has the potential to be a lot longer, but Espers choose to keep it fairly brief, in keeping with the rest of this album. Closing track Trollslanda doesn't go where the title seems to suggest, but brings things around to the relaxed mood of early tracks, whilst also sounding like a perfect exit.
