El tren fue a dar en un terreno impracticable. Lijadas por la arena, las ruedas se gastaron hasta los ejes. Los viajeros pasaron tanto tiempo, que de las obligadas conversaciones triviales surgieron amistades estrechas. Algunas de esas amistades se transformaron pronto en idilios, y el resultado ha sido F., una aldea progresista llena de niños traviesos que juegan con los vestigios enmohecidos del tren.
Oct 19, 2006
Oct 16, 2006
circulus
Filled with visions of feckless scarecrows, errant knights and the quiet joys of candlelight, the debut full-length album (The Lick On The Tip Of An Envelope Yet To Be Sent) by these medieval minstrels, Circulus, gave those brief hot summer months of 2005 a soundtrack of ancient wind instruments, 70s Moog synthesisers and ghostly harmonies.Now they are back and have moved five centuries into the future, creating a Baroque-Rock album of the highest caliber. Clocks are like people should see Circulus jump forward in terms of success as well as era’s.The much improved and accomplished songwriting/production on ‘Clocks Are Like People’ shows Circulus in a more laid back and comfortable light. Key tracks ‘Song Of Our Despair’ and ‘Wherever She Goes’ have radio written all over them, whilst the Elizebithan harpsichord workout of ‘To The 'Fields’ or the Moog soaked wonders of ‘Bouree’ prove that the have lost none of their creative appeal.
Los rituales de Michael Tyack (vocals, guitars, saz, cittern) a la medianoche custodiados por Lo Polidoro (vocals) Sam Kelly (drums, vocals) Ollie Parfitt (moog, synthesizers) George Parfitt (bass) Will Summers (flutes, recorders, crumhorn, shawm) Victor Hugo Llamas (bongos, percussion) invocando a Comus en The Lick on the Tip of an Envelope Yet to Be Sent ya no se adivinan por ninguna parte, los días más oscuros del medievo ya han pasado, silbando 'Bouree' al cobijo de un árbol y del avant-folk, la psicodelia, la edad media y Pentagle, los campesinos son un poco más felices, será por 'Dragon Dance'... mejor que hablen ellos:
In the Englad of our day the forests have mostly disappeared, yet still on many a village green and many a country lane a faded image of the sacred ceremony lingers in the rustic pageantry of Circulus We believe there is nothing more fantastical than psychedelic medieval rock for procuring a good harvest.
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