Oh miiiigud, enters your brain like a corkscrew, this one.
A previously unreleased masterstroke of slow, spiralling, folkwise-erosion from Alexander Yurchencko, recorded in Kyiv in ’94, the twenty five-minute epique (that according to ol’ google, translates to “count to a hundred”) has allowed us to slip into a shimmering, reverberant anaesthesia, temporarily numbing those oh-so fragile, world-weary nerve endings since this whole shut-in business began for us a couple weeks ago.
Worth mentioning that when we say “erosion”, there is no sense of decay or heavy handed, noise-pollution going on whatsoever. It's gradual, pastoral, water-dissolves-rock undulations over the kinda rotting and distorting you are used to seeing on long form pieces such as this, where elements often share the same destiny as the discarded furniture seen on the pavements of cities...victims to the steady violence of acid rain and endless car fumes. Enough of that thank ye!!
I guess it feels a bit like Robert Turman reworking one of Yurchencko's collaborations with Svitlana Nianio, stretching and extending the tender bones of those otherworldly melodies to reveal an even deeper, sublime purity and welcoming us to check-in to a perpetual, hope-laced day-dwam. Only wish we could stay longer!
