In the Nursery: "Deco"
---------------------
1996 ITN Corporation
The latest from everyone's favorite twin lads named Humberstone qualifies
as the best ITN effort yet, to the senses of this jaded and mutated
reviewer.
The spoken word material has been (thankfully) ditched - well, come on,
it's good for a listen or two, but beyond that?
Dolores Marguerite C. is here in her usual whispery half-spoken half-sung
French seduction.
Military drums are courtesy of Christopher Adkin. Whether or not this is
the enigmatic Q who appeared on previous ITN outings remains to be
determined. Drummer's guess: yes. Could be wrong. Could be lying.
Could be a damn fool. Or just a fooler. The name Q was cooler. I'm a
poet and I am fully aware of the fact.
Documented at A17 studio, Sheffield. Go, UK. Why does no one in the
States put out this kind of music? Don't we have any mossy sculpture
gardens and mirror pools and cherubs and nymphs (see below and erase
puzzled curseface)?
Live oboe this time by Jill Crowther, true flute and bass flute by Henrik
Linnemann (not sampled! some day we'll tell our grandchildren, when they
ask us with curious and pathetic faces, "What's a tree?"... "Well,
children, you know that decision tree structure on the computer screen?
Well, it's like that, only it litters seasonally, requires constant
maintenance, dies unexpectedly, and is full of grubs and bugs. Pretty
much like Microsoft Windows." Oops, sorry! An immortal tale turned
moral!).
Deep organ (ahem) notes, lush luscious lascivious (not really, but the
dictates of consonance regretfully overrule reason ruefully) strings and
orchestral sweeps, cymbal washes, occasional bangy drums. Half the
material qualifies as quite amby-pamby, and the rest is mixfully
dancey-pansy. (Not that you really want to dance to this music. It's more
for soaking up the mood, but the beats provide subtle injections of life as
needed.) I like both aspects of that continental divide, so let the boys
straddle styles as the mood strikes, as long as no unfortunate medical
conditions are induced.
Alright, imagine a 19th-century sculpture garden. Mossy cherub statues,
ripply reflecting pools, a few sampled swans for effect, some free-range
nymphettes, hazy fall sun with dying warmth of summer, long shadows,
unrequited love, or requited so perfectly that all the world seems tragic.
Sentimental, soaring, ethereal, ephemeral, dreamy, evocative, and beautiful.
Not necessarily to everyone's taste, but if one likes these sort of moody
soundscapes, In the Nursery will provide an unforgettable listen.
One of my faves of the year so far, though this might be far from obvious
by the scandalous nature of this review.
Best,
Zenon M. Feszczak
Philosophist