Infraction
Each of the four tracksbegins in total silence, which is actually unpotentiated sound justbeyond the threshold of audibility. Slowly and gorgeously, the densesound of vintage electric organs begin to coalesce in the far distance,looped steam calliope melodies smeared out across the sky likecumulonimbus cotton candy clouds. Soft and murmuring, Beequeen's dronesare sweet and airy, filling the room with densely immersive butspiritually uplifting sound, a gossamer architecture of floatingspiderwebs and translucent dirigables. It's a sound birthed in adaydream, buoyant melodies from a distant circus big top obfuscated bylayers of fog and abstracted by years spent asleep and dreaming. Music For the Head Ballethas far more to say than an average album of minimalist, electronicambience, which shouldn't be surprising to those who have listened toBeequeen's work through the years. Freek and Frans are singularlytalented at the seemingly effortless creation of mood and atmosphere,impregnating their nebulous compositions with a cerebral quality thatalways welcomes repeated listens. In the midst of its disarming beauty,"Days That Never Were" contains uncanny elements of the ominous,haunted by the distant, fragmented memories of childhood. In contrast,"These Foolish Days" seems breezy and uncomplicated, though it travelsthrough mysteriously gauzy chambers of tantalizingly fuzzydiscombobulation. "White Feathers on a Dish, Used to Erect thePyramids" sounds like an Angelo Badalamenti score skirting just outsidethe edge of melody and cohesion. The new addition of "Remind Me of You"takes an atonal, shapeless swell of organ drones and sets it againstthe summer buzz of sunlight and distant lawn sprinklers. Head Balletis not for those looking for pleasures concrete and tuneful, but ratherfor those that wouldn't mind a total immersion in an esoteric audioenvironment full of half-remembered dreams that slip back into thecloudy murk before they can be fully grasped.samples:
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