Glass embraces earth, sky, construction, and the heavens. It serves as a testament not only to the performers' innovative spirit, but to their understanding of their place in the wider world, and that world's place in existence.
On reflection, Glass exemplifies what a beautifully mysterious form ambient improvisation can be.
Glass is as austere as it is brimming with creativity; an anomaly that beckons its willing listeners into immersing themselves into the chilling aura the composition will undoubtedly evoke.
Even though Glass has a lot of physicality to it, it’s gentle in the ways in which it fills our space with its presence. It’s a record one loops for the evening and unconsciously forgets about it, only to wonder what is missing when it stops playing.
In a live recording from a site-specific 2016 performance at Philip Johnson’s iconic Glass House, the Japanese polymath and the German minimalist balance piercing tones with emotional warmth.
This piece would have been wonderful tacked onto the end of Sakamoto’s async from last year as a double-disc bonus. But as it stands, it’s a promising development in a 15-year musical dialogue that’s far from over.
There's an intense and cautious feeling to Sakamoto and Nicolai's approach, keeping everything at a constant volume and introducing changes only gradually. Glass is good for close listening, trading narrative for pure texture and mood.
This indeed sounds like improvised ambient music, and maybe a bit more premeditation would have done it some good. Some of the tones and textures here are warm and pretty. However, as the piece goes on, the central drones and high-pitched, repetitive noises become more and more grating (and, at times, actively annoying), and one can only hope for some more organic textures and melodic refrains to hang onto. Both Noto and Sakamoto are seasoned vets, but, at least in my eyes, this release shows ... read more