Skylines is Seán Quinn’s solo debut,
although the press release indicates previous work with
Steve Hillage and the inimitable and now sadly defunct
Penguin Café Orchestra. The album begins with
patient analogue chords that swell and ebb in a way
that is reminiscent of Vangelis or Tangerine Dream.
When the synthetic rhythm kicks in, there is a recognisable
pathos redolent of eighties instrumental B-sides by
the likes of John Foxx, Orchestral Manoeuvres In The
Dark or the Human League. Dead Air’s
vocodered apologies ‘for this temporary fault,
normal service will be resumed’ are accompanied
by contemporary breakbeat and a delightful, cascading
melody. Next up, Windscale’s whispered
vocal – again delivered via vocoder – is
becalmed Kraftwerk
adulterated by Boards Of Canada’s
hazy childhood memories.
Quinn is clearly fascinated by that space between the
mid seventies and mid eighties when analogue synthesizers
created the sound of dystopian futures that were both
alarming and strangely alluring. This was after all
the time of television dramas about societal breakdown
(The Survivors, Children Of The Stones
and Day Of The Triffids) and films about the
aftermath of nuclear apocalypse (Threads and
The Day After). For anyone who has tired of
the abstract scratchiness of DSP’ed glitch electronica,
Skylines will serve as a welcome antidote.
Its elegant compositions bears a fragile mournfulness
that hover in the consciousness like a memorable film
soundtrack.
Colin Buttimer
3.5/5 |
