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A record of super-dramatic humanity, Blanket Waves joins the growing body of work by collaborators Mark T. Smith of Explosions In The Sky and Matthew Cooper, best-known for his work as Eluvium.

Two tracks that come in at under a half hour in total work quiet wonders with the ambient format, never feeling tired or overindulgent - they can, however, be an almighty bugger to review. Soundscapes like these need to be described temporally, as they progress. Here goes.

Opener 'Blanket Waves' steals the ghost of a melody from Vangelis' introductory sweep over Los Angeles at the opening of Blade Runner, merging a robotic organ line with coruscating waves of whispered vocals and rhythmic gasps. Halfway through the song shifts into a second mode, driven by a more Explosions-y drum pattern and piano part. Synths emerge from the gloopy, anthemic keys and add to the homely feel of the piece. Before the languid pace of that second section can outstay its welcome, Smith and Cooper explode the whole thing into a furious outpouring of high-end synthesised brass, jabbing wildly out of the fug they have allowed to gather beneath the whole. Again, this surprising jump barely has time to land more than a couple of hefty punches before it fades to black, and the second instalment begins.

'Hearing Loss' carries more of a vocal narrative, slipping into a 9/8 time signature with almost-audible chattering and what sounds like the screams of a disturbed child. This section glides away to be replaced by more reverberating choral strains and sharp, atonal calls. A bubbling kind of sample-driven mid-section follows, with more high-end caterwauling before a beat-driven section once again introduces a melancholic piano line and backwards organ, suggesting the failure and atavistic collapse of all that has preceded. Before we can be dragged down by the apparent despair called up durin 'Hearing Loss', the piece suddenly mutates into a lovingly mixed, chiming equilibrium, with monkish strikes of a bell intoning a return to something like purgatory.

As I've suggested, the music of Inventions joins the long list of sonic impressionists that defy literal music criticism. Music like theirs is more about mood and combination than structure or style; it is always music to be experienced in conjunction with life, and asks for an input from whoever is taking part in the listening process beyond that which standard pop music requires. Blanket Waves is a fitting title for this two-pronged release, which works more correctly as a single, double-sided study in form and meaning.

Like all music created to satisfy the narrative impulse to focus on temporal meaning, stressing the importance of when something happens rather than its relation within a more formal album structure (which always feels like a bunch of people telling a bunch of stories, rather than a single story), Blanket Waves asks for your attention, and suggests you try soundtracking your own life with its echoes of joy and terror. It's not a cop-out to say that this is music which needs to be infused with human experience - you draw the map of your reaction to it depending on where you decide to take it, or let it take you. In that sense, whether or not you like it will probably depend less on whether you have had a good or a bad day, but whether you can remember what you did, and how it felt to be there, listening to these pieces. Take it for a spin, show it your life. See what it shows you back.

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