The music of Taylor and Meixner collects memories of a by
now unreachable past, putting them right into the wrinkles
of minds that got raped by too many easy listening tortures.
Kenneth Kirschner’s piano contributes to a general state of
corporeal abandon in Kirschner Wind, whose sparse chords
bathing in a suburban atmosphere are a delicate threat to
the excess of solitude. Nothing falls into place is all subsonic
turbulence and nocturnal insight amidst industrial loops and
noises. The Sound of X features the softly bewailing voice
of Jonathan Grieve, between rumbling shadows and aquatic
pressures in what’s maybe the only track containing slight
references to Meixner’s past work with Contrastate. Yet,
this is not that kind of psychedelia, rather an engrossing,
even disturbing concoction of skilled composition and
unique electro–acoustic visions. Highly recommended.
Massimo Ricci at Touching Extremes
There are bursts of tonality, and even fragments of melody.
These arrive most frequently in the track Kirschner Wind,
where gathering heads of steamy static evaporate suddenly
into startled piano notes. Throughout… [T]here’s some
involving play between the colder regions of the white noise
spectrum and warmer tonalities, such as those created by
filtered and processed piano. The pair play with dualities
elsewhere, especially in their use of the familiar pattern of
tension and release. The presence of found sound is more
subtle. This is a headphone record, not only because of the
carefully weighted mix, but for easy to miss details like
some distant field-recorded harmonica. Taylor and Meixner
don’t use these elements to create juxtapositions or illusory
shifts of space and place but rather to import atmospheres —
such as the rain recording on Kirschner Wind — to effect
slight but distinct adjustments of ambience.
Sam Davies in The Wire