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Breton musician and composer Yann Tiersen has made a name for himself through his various esoteric yet childlike scores for the big screen. The soundtracks to Goodbye Lenin and Amelie exposed Tiersen's ivory-tinkling talents to the world, yet each possessing something a little bit more intriguing than your average grandiose Hans Zimmer or John Williams score. Yann has also had quite the prolific solo career, now on his eighth studio album with Infinity. It's an album that beguiles and entrances, yet never really leads anywhere with each track being an almost independent musing. Unsurprisingly, this gives Infinity a deeply cinematic feel and could easily be the soundtrack to some northern-French Art House work, set in the sparse, rugged terrain of its creator's island home.

Nationality and roots is a theme close to Tiersen's heart and one that courses through the veins of the record. Being born, raised and still residing in Brittany, northern France, he is a firm believer in the bond between one and their homeland. This is evident in the use of language interspersed throughout the record, most notably the native Breton tongue, but also Icelandic, Faroese and English. The result is a very European feel, but not in a cosmopolitan way. It chimes perfectly with the sparse soundscapes that are present in part from Tiersen's home on a rugged island 30km off the Brittany coast, where much of the record was written. The coastlines of the similarly fiercely independent Cornwall and Iceland also provided inspiration for this raw, natural feel, most notably on 'Grønjørð' and 'Ar Maen Bihan'.

Despite Yann's impressive back-catalogue of studio albums, Infinity still has the very distinct air of a film soundtrack about it. Emotionally it switches from brooding to joyous at the drop of a hat, with the likes of the aforementioned 'Ar Maen Bihan's dark, chugging determination suddenly switching to the nursery rhyme-esque percussion of 'Lights'. The track's vocals are somewhere between Tunng and Tall ships, set back in the mix as to not mess with the plethora of light-hearted synths and percussion.

The variety of sounds and instrumentation on the record is something to be admired. Yann has said that he just likes having fun with music, "turnings knobs, banging strings, making amps scream, caressing keys, making noise," and this eclecticism certainly raises its head. You never know what the next track is going to have in store, and never is this as true as on album closer 'Meteorites'. A spoken word piece that talks poetically about late-night passions and fumbling's in the dark, lent romanticism from a thick Scottish accent. It ends the record on a particularly haunting note, again with an eye set on the silver-screen - a characteristic that seems to define both Infinity and its writer.

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