Riccardo Gorone’s solo project, named after voiceover heard in a BBC documentary about flowers, claims to see musical genres as flowers that it flits between impulsively. At its core it’s electronica, mostly downtempo atmospheric and thoughtful, a collection of seven pieces that sometimes border on the playful but which, within each track, adopt a fairly serious and focussed attitude. It’s in the unique details adopted in individual tracks, like the harmonica on “Azazel Boogie” or the spoken word snippets on “Camouflage” that the experimental aspect is nested.
The mellow soft near-ambient pads of opener “Cantatrice Chauve” find themselves, halfway through the track, suddenly cut through by odd discordant lo-fi sawtooth wave noises, before second track “Encore Aujourd'hui” really exemplifies the album’s tone, with complex but light-footed rhythm patterns that constantly chug and shift in parallel with strange and awkward-sounding atmospheric chords and sci-fi noises.
The low rumbles and steady midday techno of “White Rabbit Of Calypso” are a highlight, a slow and steady nine-minute build of electronic bubbling and clicks that seems to recall the best of dubby underground early 90’s trance aesthetics. This runs nicely into the final track “Ocean In One Drop” which is a touch more 8-bit but in the same ballpark.
It’s mostly coherent, and an interesting exercise in electronica which understands that less can sometimes be more. Not every experiment is a winner but over the course of 45 minutes it draws you in to a small-sounding but curiously detailed little world of electronic sonics.