I wondered if someone else might describe this album as quiet contemplation. Of course all music of note should be contemplative no matter what emotion employed, though it should never be simply quiet. Underneath all the reflective melancholy occasioned within a lot of the tracks lies an uneasy turmoil seeking to heighten an excess of the senses, which like you I’m all for. Rob Burger’s exquisite new album Marching With Feathers dances that fine line between melody and strangeness producing a most intriguing blend of the slightly surreal and the knowingly reasoned.
Those lone moments spent with the piano and its accompanying reverberation hit home most for me and numbers such as Still along with the albums opening, Figurine are blissfully aware – the latter remembering the essence of notes from past players with definite ease. Then you arrive at the casual beauty of Hotel for Saints which deploys a grainy sideshow of distortion in amongst its hand grenade of emotions. While the complimentary Ground Cover sees the artist combine synthesizers alongside Cello to captivating, progressive effect. Next the title track Marching With Feathers utilises the pulse of a drum machine to drive the rich intensity forwards into this century. You are then left at the final point, much as you began, with a piano guiding your way through on the closing Night Feet drawing you into its world of turbulent imagination, loudly.