Sometimes, a record’s first track grabs you by the balls and squeezes so hard that you spend the rest of the album wanting to return to the beatific pain of that first encounter.
Kopernik’s self-titled album manages to keep that trick going all the way through such that, by the time the disk finishes, you don’t know whether you should grab some ice or hit the replay button. Personally, I did both.
It’s an ambitious disc that manages to marry traditionally played stringed instruments with contemporary electronica and avoid the cardinal sin of sounding like the soundtrack to a Toyota advert, and Kopernik pull it off beautifully and then some.
There are two people listed on the album cover as playing in Kopernik, with three additional musicians, but you’d swear you were listening to a full orchestra on almost every track. Part of the effect is achieved through having both cello and double bass (not drums in this case, but the stringed instrument - Roberto) placed very high in the mix; there’s a heavy reliance on classical forms here, but instead of joining the masses giving props to late 20th century composers like Gorecki and Pärt, Kopernik reach further back to the late romantic period.
There’s a track called “Kopernistan” where the mix of stately strings and ethnic percussion remind one of the intentions of Debussy’s “First and Second Arabesques,” although the sounds of the two pieces couldn’t be more different. Elsewhere the prominence of the cello brings Elgar and Vaughn Williams sweeping melodies to mind. It’s a disc that takes a fresh approach to linking the modern and the antique, and for the most part its wholly successful. Go and buy it if the idea of a soundclash between bearded men with cellos and bearded men with computers excites you - and it should. (8.5/10)
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