Mick Mercer posts a review of "CIII: Even Celestina Gets The Blues" by 17 Pygmies on his Live Journal blog.
17 PYGMIES
CIII: Even Celestina Gets The Blues (A Tale Of Love And Quantum Physics)
Trakwerx
The final part of the delicately inspiring trilogy comes so beautifully wrapped it seems a crime to even open it, but I flew in a team of dutiful keyhole surgery specialists who extricated without damage and it was under their solemn tutelage that I also learned to slide the contents back into place so the rose seal remained unbroken.
There is an outer acetate envelope, a single piece of wrap-around card (sealed), a separate wrap around acetate sleeve for the CD, accompanied by a CD sized book, with acetate cover. Their sci-fi tale reaches an end, their music gives itself up to the ether.
‘XXIII’ has a wilderness feel but with active ingredients, either whirring or chiming, so this economy of action is very clear, very instant, and a gorgeous beat flows seductively from the nothingness. ‘XXIV’ also chimes away and while it does so you should know the book continues the story of the space flight which reached a planet full of robots but they escape and make their way back to Earth to digest the usual menu of treachery, despair, love and sacrifice.
‘XXV’ introduces a fuller tone and beautiful singing, with a lightly ominous undertow. I cannot place any special significance for tracks to sections of the story as I don’t read sci-fi thoroughly enough to burrow deeply into meaning. A woozier, spacier opulence fills the sleepy ‘XXVI’ with its grandly eloquent lines and the same kind of oozing vocal harmonics. Like the Carpenters never happened! ‘XXVII’ is emptier and I could be wrong but it’s like the machines are talking to us, or themselves. Gradually a silky, albeit groaning, wash overcomes you and it closes with a chunkier, livelier version of the start. You can get lost in this quite easily.
‘XXVIII’ shares the leisurely but oddly profound pace, as you could swear these songs are far longer than their actual length, but keep you hooked to their noduled dreaminess, so it’s more time travel than space. ‘XXIX’ is shorter, equally mysterious with its languid pull, then ‘XXX’ drips like a bead of Kate Bush sweat down the neck of a pensive, ghostly horse. Strings saw sweetly as they sing the question, “could this be Heaven?” and I’d say they’re pretty close. While exquisite guitar sighs through a mesmeric ‘XXXI’, a bout of tremulous woe, ‘XXXII’ idles sensitively. ‘XXXIII’ stirs thickly, meaningfully, then vanishes, and we’re left with the oddly titled ‘XXXIII.III’ (in keeping with their initial desire to create, and I quote, “a three part, 33 1/3rd psalms/songs long science fiction story”), the notion of the blues introduced an alien listener, creaking skilfully.
It’s a bewildering thing, in one way, as if discovering some lost opus that manages, across all the CDs to be unlike anything else in your collection, although I’m assuming Floyd fans (Pink, not Keith) might appreciate certain textures and intentions. It’s also a mighty thing disguised as something simple, winsome and well-mannered. A mighty thing…
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Mick Mercer posts a review of "CIII: Even Celestina Gets The Blues" by 17 Pygmies on his Live Journal blog.
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