Approaching an artist such as Philip Clemo with pre-conceived ideas about the music is dangerous.
He is a composer in the jazz vein but very much in the improvisational and possibly even Avant Gard schools.

The album takes you down paths that you may feel familiar with but somewhere along the way atmosphere and mood changes along with rhythm and emphasis and it all leads to a disconcerting and uneasy experience.

He says of the album “This album took shape over time and I was generally two or three musicians ahead in my planning, not having a fully formed picture until near the end. My process was like preparing for a long walk and mapping out the route but not knowing what I would find along the way. I’m not interested in ‘comfort zones’. The improvisors who recorded ‘blind’ (without briefing or prior listening) … will attest to that. I like to discover the creative responses that come from not knowing where we are”

Remarkably, every time I have listened to the album my responses to it have been different. Depending on my mood and the surroundings, or whether it is day or night, the depth to which the music pulls me is different and my reactions to the mesmerising qualities of music with no formal structure changed every time.

The playing is, without question, of the highest order. 21 different musicians contributed and their instruments included trumpets, cellos, Martenot, glass harmonica, flugelhorn and ‘voices’ and Clemo’s use of the improvisations is masterful.

Only he knows if the music represents his image of the maps he set out to chart but from a listener’s point of view the result is involving, sometimes shocking but enormously satisfying.


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