Sometimes, after I have read a review, I don’t want to hear the music and want to close my eyes and just imagine it. Here are a few examples, all by the same writer… no need for the names of musicians or the titles of songs.
like listening to an ambient record on headphones at such a low volume that the background noise of the metropolis bleeds through
illuminated by the lens flares of flugelhorn and then slightly darkened by some fragmented guitar figures
washes of melody that drift to the surface before slowly sinking into the depths again
dissolving the sound into a glossy decay, as though a Rothko painting were slowly fading to black
eventually, the curtain is pulled aside to reveal the piano behind the noises
there are sharp bursts that stir these dreamy tracks quickly awake
pulsing minimalism given an acidic tang via tones that sound like a bad mobile phone connection
imagines a repeating four-chord sequence as the blinking eyes of a dozen androids while little flutters of electricity and long pulses flow through the room
it is nearly overwhelmed by the drunken bass notes and fluttering racket going on around it
This only works when the critic has a way with words and has good ears to go along with that… All examples were pulled from the writing of Robert Ham for Pitchfork.
(whispering)
the music industry is very vast.
“no need for the names of musicians or the titles of songs” –
yes -good writing can stir the imagination too.
Audio vs visual intake