Indicative of the nature of this project is the lack of fanfare surrounding its genesis and background.
Henry Green, a Bristol based cult electronic producer, is the driving force behind it. Green’s breakthrough came with a cover of MGMT’s now indie staple Electric Feel, before he released a debut solo effort two years ago. Hattie Ellis meanwhile is a photographer by trade, cultivating dreamscape imagery for an accompanying short film. The imagery evoked from the music will surely not be far from the final outcome, but the lines are very distinct when listening to the album.
‘We’re really intrigued by the shared qualities within two completely different elements but also how their differences can complement each other’, say the pair, which is as contradictory yet as artistic a statement that can be made. It’s also laudable as an approach, but the issue with consuming one half of such a project is that, without the full context, it can be found wanting. Sadly, such is the case here.
Ostensibly a film score (a lazy definition which would probably horrify its creators), it’s a slow burner. Opening with a slow pulse before mournful strings swoop in, it immediately targets the heart rather than the head, as indeed the whole album does. Much of it echoes the ambient dub of Jon Hopkins and the fraught anxiety of Thom Yorke’s recent album ANIMA, specifically on Cycles which, were it not for the relative proximity of the release, would bring questions of plagiarism into the frame. Fortunately, it’s just a happy coincidence and the comparison can be nothing but a compliment.
Sadly, as the album continues it becomes repetitive with little to differentiate between the tracks. Some electronic beats here and a bit of washed-out piano there fleshes things out, but not enough to cover the run-time. The two components of the project will surely work well as a whole, but this collection loses power standing on its own. The essence of the music is good and emotionally engaging, there’s just too much of it.
There is a core mood which pervades the entire album, that of a funereal air. There is much beauty to be found in melancholia; one person’s funereal is another’s ephemeral, and while Rituals is largely successful in finding the sweet spot between the two, to another’s ears or in another mood it could go the other way. In that sense it’s rewarding and emotionally fulfilling as it may reveal more secrets with repeated listens. But it also runs the risk of being discarded after just one.
Taken out of context, as by definition this album must, elegant beauty can easily become boring.
