Biosphere

In mid February 2006, it seemed that James ‘let's all listen to another insipid love song' Blunt's songs were everywhere I went. The only relief from him could actually have involved stuffing wet toilet roll in my ears. There are hundreds of radio stations in the world, yet I couldn't seem to get away from the little singing soldier elf. I even began to imagine that I was hearing snatches of ‘Beautiful Dawn' when listening to Radio 3 – unlikely, but I'm almost sure Bach might have borrowed a couple of bars from the middle eight…

By late February I'd developed a twitch and was struggling to look people in the eye…

Thankfully, I then received a copy of Dropsonde by Biosphere and since then I've been okay. A dropsonde (for those who like me are not altogether familiar with the world of science) is a weather reconnaissance device which is dropped from a plane, as it descends earthward it records and relays information to a computer. Although the direct connection between weather balloons and the work of Biosphere on his 5th release for Touch is not at once clear, the absolute brilliance of this record is immediately apparent.

A gentle ebb and flow of bell-like sounds, field recording and jazz inflected drum loops inhabit an ethereal, Lanois-esque soundscape. Cinematic to the extreme, the music is immediately suggestive of the warm, textured collage of Godfrey Reggio's Koyaanisqatsi, employing an awesome sense of subtlety in it's application and subtraction of sounds into and out of the mix.

Music is full of cold, soulless creatures that skirt the edges of what has become known as electronica, which itself seems to be little more than an easy tag for all things glitchy and vaguely Scandinavian. Conversely, Biosphere utilises sensitivity and intricacy rather than trickery and grand gestures and as such is welcome relief from a genre that can too often undervalue space.

What has any of this got to do with James Blunt? Nothing. Great isn't it.