(Gears Of Sand)

For Aidan Baker, a “song” is not exactly what’s usually intended as such, this CD at least partially explaining what he means. As always, the Canadian starts with guitar loops, this time captured in a full-hiss lo-fi audio quality. The sonic mass becomes undetermined and murky as the minutes flow, a truly psychedelic stroke that has become one of Baker’s trademarks. After a while vocals come in, but Baker does not “sing”. Indeed he whispers and mumbles, the voice processed, delayed, multiplied in a jumble of moans and wheezes amidst which only a few words can be guessed. Sort of a cross between a bad dream and a lysergic trial, and it’s not the first occasion in which I associate this facet of Baker’s music to Pink Floyd. Even in an album like this – not exactly fitting in the very top of his recorded output – the man shows that touch of class which separates him from the imitators. It may be the celestial jangle of two adjacent chords, or a magic flourish of interlocked arpeggios; we instantly recognize the pedigree. This pushes the evaluation of an otherwise rather average release towards a positive grade. For sure, with additional spins Green & Cold will convey emotions we could have forgotten about. My trust in this man remains unblemished.

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