Kscope 2023
Four decades of interstellar overdrive lead cosmic players to the land of make-believe where nothing is intangible.
Naysayers who maintain that listening to any single album by this English ensemble means listening to all of them may not be entirely wrong – but those people cannot be more mistaken either, and, by posing “Is today allowed to be amazing?” question in its liner epistle, “Lotus Unfolding” is addressing such a controversial issue right away. Or so one would seem to assume after reading the collective’s mission statement, a needful reasoning behind the appearance of their umpteenth, and first post-pandemic, opus on which the members of the Wynne family and their fellow travelers reveal the multitude of magnificent nuances whose filigree should feel as delicately subtle as the platter’s title suggests. It’s a sonic place where sensuality and wisdom conspire to amuse and amaze.
Here’s an experience destined to creep up even on the most prepared psyche – the mindset ready to get busted to acid-spiked pieces – as, starting to float to the surface in “Storm In A Teacup” whose motorik groove and almost relentless ripples of keyboards bring on streamlined, frequently voice-imitating yet never ethereal, six-string passages to rock the universe, these six numbers conceal a lot of tasty instrumental details which are unexpectedly vigorous and, at the same time, extremely vivid. Thus, gusts of twangy wind blow through “Crumplepenny” to see the epic’s exquisite acoustic lace contrasted by the equally robust electronica and infused with synthetic choirs that elevate this tribal throb to heavenly heights, towards the crystal waves of “Green Incantation” for a similar raga-scented strum to descend upon the audience like summer rain before heavy riffs turn the tide back into the tempestuous dance the record’s opener introduced.
As Ed Wynne’s guitars and ivories, soaring over the bedrock of Brandi Wynne’s bass, fathom stereo panorama Silas Wynne’s artificial sounds probe for dynamics, “Deep Blue Shade” wildly swings the mirrorball hung above the scintillatingly pulsing floor and driven to delirium by Tim Wallander’s drums, and the equally mesmeric titular cut slows the flow down to folk elegance and delegates its alluring tune to Saskia Maxwell’s flute that electric orchestra enshroud in harmonic nebulosity. But then there’s “Burundi Spaceport” to stitch together the earthly and the otherworldly with catchy funky panache and lysergic swirl. Here’s the moment one will find the album’s sacred flower finally unfolding to shine wonders from inside and welcoming all the folks to drink the aural light; and there can be no sweeter inebriation.
*****