Typically, when a composer crafts a minimalist musical piece, they do so with very specific intentions in mind.

One such reason for composing minimally is to introduce a complex musical form or an intricate timbral texture. Repetition within the piece allows listeners to quickly acclimate to any innovative ideas the composer may present.

Another motive for utilizing repetitive drones and ostinatos is as a self-imposed challenge—a deliberate limitation aimed at honing the composer's skills and fostering creativity.

Additionally, minimalism can be an aesthetic choice in itself. Its constant repetition offers listeners an escape from the perpetual tension-and-resolution cycle inherent in functional music. This escape is less adventurous than the 20th-century symphony, serialism, and dodecaphony yet less exotic than audacious modal music. Minimalism offers a non-demanding, natural, and 'relaxed' path to non-functional realms. The style feels so natural that occasionally it reaches transcendental heights.

The album under review here employs various facets and forms of minimalism. Drawing inspiration from Steve Reich's 'less is more' approach, Brian Eno's lobby music, and even delving into the ancient and transcendental roots of minimalist music with influences from Gagaku—the classical court music of Japan dating back to 710.

This group incorporates an intriguing and distinctive psychedelic touch into these various forms of minimalism. It's not just the music; even the titles of the tracks evoke vivid imagery and synesthetic experiences, such as 'Sun Tickles' and 'Purple Punch.'

Given the nature of this album, there isn't much more to expound upon, but I strongly encourage you to give it a listen.

Recommended for those seeking transcendental contemplative experiences, enthusiasts of lobby or study music, or perhaps for anyone intrigued by a blend of these elements. This album is worth exploring.

Author: Martín Cacho

Martín is a video game composer, producer and writer from Sonora, México.