|Lulla-Label | www.discogs.com|
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Over the past month I have written about three tremendously popular pop albums: one that disappoints but is largely fine, one that disappointed others but tickled me pink, and one that excels in every way that it is possible to excel. All three demand the listener’s attention, with varying degrees of conviction.
It’s been a while since my last write-up of what is sometimes patronisingly dubbed wallpaper music. Lift music. Music that is content to sit in the background, to burble along happily and unobtrusively, and then to disappear as if it had never existed at all.
(Always instrumental, of course — it seems somehow rude to ignore singing, like tuning out the words of someone speaking directly to you — without vocals, it is much easier to slip by unnoticed.)
Lullatone pride themselves on being completely and charmingly forgettable.
Their tunes do not progress so much as unfold, blossoming like frost across a midwinter window; intricate crystalline patterns blooming before your very eyes. On one song, pings of porcelain vibraphone intermingle with the gentle pluckings of a surprisingly tasteful ukulele. On another, a soothing hum is peppered with small icy flurries, as if one has gently nudged a snowglobe.
This little EP is a bouquet of snowdrops and lilies and lavender to place in a vase on your windowsill, to sit and admire for a while.
How perfectly delightful.