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artist:
Harold Budd |
country of origin:
USA |
style(s):
Ambient, meditative, impressionism |
essential releases:
Plateaux Of Mirror [with Brian Eno] (1980, Editions EG)
The Pearl [with Brian Eno] (1984, Editions EG)
Lovely Thunder (1986, Editions EG)
The White Arcades (1988, All Saints/Warner)
The Room (2000, Atlantic)
Avalon Sutra (2005, Samadhi Sound)
Mysterious Skin soundtrack [with Robin Guthrie] (2005, Rykodisc)
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The distinctively dreamy, often extraordinary and occasionally ominous music of Californian pianist Harold Budd is affecting and rich in images and has been widely imitated by ambient composers over the years. Imitated, but never bettered.
Like fellow American Tim Story, Budd’s lyrical, emotionally subtle musings owe more than a little to the piano music of French composers Eric Satie (1866-1925) and Claude Debussy (1862-1918). In fact, Satie’s “Gymnopedies” and “Gnossiennes” were the virtual blueprint for a modern school which includes Budd, Story and a number of others. A major difference, however, is that Satie and company never had electronics and recording studios at their disposal, a tool which gives the music of their modern-day descendents a seductive air they could only have dreamed of.
Not forgetting his welcome return to form in the 2000's, the first four albums listed above remain the pick of Budd's output and all pre-date his restless 90's period during which he made rather unsuccessful forays into world beat, daft poetry and various art rock experiments. All four albums are distinguished by haunting, drifting piano melodies enhanced with tasteful washes of electronic colour. There is something deeply subconscious about this music, slightly out of focus and utterly compelling at the same time. Some persist in calling it minimalism but I disagree. Although he was involved with the Minimalist movement in the USA in the late 60's, the inherent drift of Budd's classic sound is miles away from the mathematically precise and repetitive music of Steve Reich or Philip Glass.
The two recordings with Brian Eno, The Plateaux Of Mirror and The Pearl, establish the classic Budd sound. Budd plays acoustic and electric piano while Eno creates a subtle, beautifully reflective backdrop with wisps of synthesiser and sound effects. On Lovely Thunder and The White Arcades Budd goes it mostly alone and here he applies some of the production lessons he learned from Eno with great finesse. On some tracks he also subtly expands is sonic palette. The 20-minute "Gypsy Violin" features long, sad phases on said instrument, bedded gently on a luminous drone that slowly morphs, rises and falls. On "Child With A Lion" and "Totem Of The Red Sleeved Warrior" he also puts the piano aside for playful synth improvs on the former and a deeply haunting ghost choir on the latter.
Following his patchy 90's phase, his 2000 release The Room is a quite magnificent return to the timeless piano sound of his 80's classics, on which he uses a track originally from The White Arcades as the springboard for a new collection of electro-acoustic mood pieces that are by turns dark, nostalgic, sad and surreal.
The double album Avalon Sutra from 5 year later is also a fine work and, at the time, was allegedly Budd's final release after having announced his retirement from composing music at the age of 68. It didn't turn out to be true, but style-wise the first disc of Avalon Sutra sounds nonetheless like a summary of his entire career spanning solo piano, treated piano, synth drones and small chamber compositions. The second disc is a low-key epic engineered by his friends Akira Rabelais and art rocker David Sylvian. Based on a short track from Disc One called "As Long As I Can Hold My Breath" the synthetic strings, drones and piano are looped and remixed along with added violin to create a slow-motion drift across a moonlit landscape. It's late night ambience of the most seductive kind.
Also dating from 2005 is the first of what would become a series of collaborative albums with ex-Cocteau Twins guitarist Robin Guthrie. While most of them lack depth and too often get lost in an atmospheric prettiness, the film soundtrack Mysterious Skin is an outstanding success. Guthrie's chiming, shimmering electric guitar chords add a welcome dimension to Budd's core sound, not unlike some of Daniel Lanois' guitar playing with Eno in the 1980's. Like all good soundtrack albums the music has it's own life apart from the images. The mood ranges from outright pretty to achingly sad with an edge of menace, but overall it's not nearly as dark as the film's chilling theme of sexual abuse might suggest.
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