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The Weather Clock

July Skies Audio CD
4.5 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (2 customer reviews)

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Product details

  • Audio CD (19 May 2008)
  • Number of Discs: 1
  • Label: Cargo
  • ASIN: B001885BX4
  • Other Editions: MP3 Download
  • Average Customer Review: 4.5 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (2 customer reviews)
  • Amazon Bestsellers Rank: 374,807 in Music (See Top 100 in Music)

Listen to Samples and Buy MP3s

Songs from this album are available to purchase as MP3s. Click on "Buy MP3" or view the MP3 Album.

Song Title Time Price
Listen  1. Afternoon Pips0:310.89  Buy MP3 
Listen  2. Branch Line Summers Fade 4:240.89  Buy MP3 
Listen  3. Girl On the Hill 4:320.89  Buy MP3 
Listen  4. See Britain By Train 3:200.89  Buy MP3 
Listen  5. Friog0:110.89  Buy MP3 
Listen  6. Holidays to Wales 2:410.89  Buy MP3 
Listen  7. Broadcasts for Autumn Term 2:460.89  Buy MP3 
Listen  8. One Morning in May 3:270.89  Buy MP3 
Listen  9. Distant Showers Sweep Across Norfolk Schools 4:300.89  Buy MP3 
Listen10. Waiting for the Test Card 2:280.89  Buy MP3 
Listen11. Skies for Nash 6:350.89  Buy MP3 
Listen12. To My Love 1:570.89  Buy MP3 

Customer Reviews

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Most Helpful Customer Reviews
3 of 3 people found the following review helpful
5.0 out of 5 stars marvellous.....as per 15 Jun 2008
Format:Audio CD
every single track i've heard by july skies is beautiful and the ethic that surrounds the music really grabs me too; music for a simple time and the innocence it portrays. anyone who's ever been to, or even through, an english village, loves the avengers, is happy to live without feeling the need to be totally involved in our modern society (amongst others), should love this. floating, soaring atmospherics mingle with gentle, slightly-reverberated acoustic guitar and the whole thing turns into yet another wonderful artifact for those of us who care to listen. if you can, get hold of the 2 cd set, available from the 'make mine music' site. i cannot praise them, or the bands associated, highly enough. recommended listening situation; taking a countryside stroll on a baking hot, yet breezy, sunday afternoon, maybe catching a pint or two of proper ale. if you're in england, best of luck with the 'baking hot' thing....
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2 of 2 people found the following review helpful
4.0 out of 5 stars As English as Wimbledon and Victoria sponge 3 April 2009
Format:Audio CD
Utilitarian beauty; long car rides through prefabricated estate wildernesses; a Milton Keynes bus ride on mute. The internal monologue of a train journey to a new start; the restrained, British upper-lipped sad soundtrack to a lonely heart; an eight year old's errand to the local Happy Shopper mini-mart' to buy something they wouldn't want. Watching the cat sleep in a beam of sunlight projected from a high window.

The Weather Clock is apparently influenced by British post-war architecture, and you know exactly what Antony Harding, AKA, July Skies, means by that. It's so much more though: its subtle loneliness, kerplunk childhoods. It's fragile and beautiful and bleak, yet comforting. Yes.

J Capeling
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Most Helpful Customer Reviews on Amazon.com (beta)
Amazon.com: 3.5 out of 5 stars  2 reviews
4.0 out of 5 stars Try Not to Daydream with this One 14 July 2011
By Phillip A. Anderson - Published on Amazon.com
Format:Audio CD
I love all types of music, from Blue Oyster Cult to Sigur Ros. This definately falls squarely in the Sigur Ros Camp. I am not always a fan of this type music because it is so hit and miss, and often all sounds the same. But I do love this LP. Very dreamy yet still hook laden (which this type music sometimes lacks). The song "Distant Showers Sweep Across Norfolk Schools" make this worth the price alone. Check it out on youtube, you will get a good grasp of this bands sound. Highly recommended for those long starry nights hold you guy or girl. Peace & Love!
3.0 out of 5 stars Still Wonderful 18 Sep 2008
By Bernard Mickey Wrangle - Published on Amazon.com
Format:Audio CD
I will always cherish the music of July Skies for being so heroically dedicated to the simple, youthful project of chorus and delay. JS's music is rarely complicated by complex riffs and rhythmic gestures, but rather enigmatically weaves throughout the listener an experience of plentiful, winding innocence.

JS is like a Shoegaze band stripped down the elemental OM of its energy, concerned with nothing concrete, floating with a sort of dazed clarity above the architecture of an upwardly-plucked chord, submitted fully to the dreamy and nostalgic winds that carry it from fields to hills to the crest of a star-clouded night sky to a woven chair sitting nobly on your parent's lawn.

The Weather Clock is admittedly only a pale reflection of JS's previous two albums. A feeling of redundancy might come over the listener who hopes for a "new" project, a more complex approach to the watery, flickering and momentary arpeggios. In fact, on my first listen of The Weather Clock, I was disappointed by riffs that seemed overly-inherited from common atmospheric plots and a nagging sense of the band having not gone the "the extra mile." Each previous JS album was harmoniously ruled by undeniable narratives: The disarming, ocean-born epiphany hovering just above coast-nearing waves in Dreaming of Spires, and the brilliantly wooded storminess of The English Cold that is somehow never inundated by the weight of continual rain. After repeated listens, I've come to the conclusion that The Weather Clock is both a frustratingly simplistic reenactment of the July Skies narrative, and yet still has the affective power to revivify the "hidden child" with true aural ribbons; their colors somehow refuse to fade through recycling.

A massive sea pulling ceaselessly to and fro the coast; a deep green and khaki world soaking in steady rains--they are replaced by the light greenness that half-dissolves into the continual sunlight of The Weather Clock, a world in which a 10am cloudless day gradually meets a falling, golden-red curtain of evening, which escapes the shroud of night by being immediately returned to that early crystalline blueness. Night is bypassed; the butterflies, crickets, grasshoppers and ants continually roam.

In the Weather Clock sound is the bittersweet death of the entire world for the inevitably late memory of the childhood shell, in which you were blissfully devoid of the cloudiness of philosophy, happily devoid of a sense for all the incorrectness and brutality of a world that keeps erasing the sums following the equal signs, peacefully devoid of chemical abstractions of soul, gracefully devoid of the stress for societal integration, relievingly devoid of an excessively human conception of God.

The Weather Clock world is therefore filled with brilliant sunlight that permeates all form, as a matter of fact precedes all form and then emanates from it its innumerable appearances (tree bark, blades of grass, finger dust, earthworm, brick wall, butterfly). The light swims through a pure air of a solacing unknowing that envelops all form like an omniscent glass, creating the sensation that wherever you glance you do so through a single, every-bending air of glass.

In the Weather Clock world you wake up to your birthday, and you are fulfilled with self-love before your guests arrive for the candle lighting. Love is evident; it is Here; it lives Here.

The cruel irony of The Weather Clock is its simultaneous reproduction of life's beginning with an image of life's twilight. The Weather Clock measures a precise hour, woven tightly into a mechanical ball and stamped into history by a robotic voice. This ball gradually dissolves under the delicate vibrations of guitars and sighing voices, shifting from its metallic form to a ball of yarn, which gradually unravels throughout the album until it unfolds over the hill of memory and is bleached by the sun into a plain sheet of paper over which an elderly woman rights a love letter of devotion to her silent and gracious husband. Still, at the dawn of her life, she feels a continual need to express her adoration, to fulfill it; she displays a hopeless sense of having not done it quite right, and yet she is immensely hopeful for the inextinguishable power of love. Her words push the moon back behind the earth, push the sun back around and over her English field, giving new day to the incomplete experience of life's original maddening purity.


Looking at it now, it's presumptive and arrogant to have accused this band of not "having gone the extra mile." Of course they have; there is only one July Skies, in the music world and in my sappy music heart. Any music lover wants to be transcended by their favorite bands, and when these bands do not IMMEDIATELY transcend them, a knee jerk reaction ensues. Stupid and pointless.

While I still must admit that I enjoy JS's previous albums a bit more than The Weather Clock, there is a point, a breath, at the end of this album that totally encapsulates the purity of this band for me. Just before the old woman reads her letter of undying love, between .24 and .42 seconds, there arrive strings of indelible, conscious, visceral tenderness. This is earth music at its clearest. Two divine notes complete two statements, precisely between .28 and .29, and immediately at .33 seconds. In these silken and pastoral notes, that soar half-wakingly over lush green Welsh fields, is some kind of optimistic proof of the worthiness of the world. They say that we're all born good; they forgive us for our forgetfulness of the simple plan--to embrace, to sit back in wonder, to try your damnest not to squeeze too hard the devoted mantis between your fingers.
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