(2062)

William Basinski’s music has a profound sadness buried into itself. This particular release unifies two kinds of sorrow in its slowly unfolding, almost unreal sounds: the loss of youth’s memories (old tape compositions that just dissolved in dust while transferred on digital) and the pain for what happened in New York on 9.11.2001, which Basinski was a direct witness of, right in the middle of working on this CD. What you get then is a repetition of a series of lamenting phrases, a mourning melody that turns into itself and asks only to be remembered, because it’s inevitably evaporating in the middle of nowhere. It’s wonderful being captured by the magic of this work but also it’s not easy freeing the brain from the mass of thoughts that will grab us while thinking to a future that – by now – we’re afraid of.

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