Of course it can mean many separate things to different ears, but if there’s one thing music cannot be, it’s all things to all people. This record wouldn’t be one for everyone, but it could be everything for someone. That’s why we call it magic.
Were there a place you could go to find soundtracks for pleasant dreams that dispense with worry for things gone far awry, this would be in the window. There’s peace in this here Minnesota valley. The recording is so good it’s easy get transported and feel like it’s all very close. The intimacy suits the mood. It’s quiet to the point of stillness. The two sides are strung together with a delicate thread. The evocative sound is gossamer-thin but not too light. If there are gaps between tracks, I didn’t notice them. Based around the sound of two grand pianos played with such beautiful restraint, the music unfurls like lazy ripples in crystal waters. The calm of the evening is left undisturbed. There is nobody here to make a big splash.
Pianist Crystal Myslajek could rip it up if she wanted to. Her band Brute Heart make hearty use of the bass, percussion and drums that accompany her here when the notion takes them, but on these tunes they're used in a far more silent kind of way. With Circadia, she chooses to paint a very different picture.
And it’s not just minimalism for the sake of it. There’s method in this meandering and the music has weight. The textures Myslajek evokes are richly underwrought with modular synthesisers that deepen the colours and never distract. Likewise, the drums have power but never dominate. The double bass is bowed and plucked to perfection.
The music on each side rises and falls and in the middle of both to a song which unfolds without fanfare. Her haunting voice hovers over the scene like a bird on the wing. These are the highlights, airborne and fleeting.
