This record might read different to Europeans, I guess. Is it stodge and reverence and old stone and the low stink of hymn books? Something bound to Bach and rules and the virgin? Blake Hargreaves is a new worlder like me, excited enough to find something exotic in a grand tour of old organs and a close enough listener to finger new feeling from each encounter. There is nothing abusive in the improvisation here, no flock-bothering atonality or shrill modernism, no Charlemagne Palestine key-jamming, mass saturation or extended technique, just onward steps of refined inner logic (or the wandering anti-logic of a reverie), extrapolations of musical thought and excerpts of dialogues with tradition and the materiality of acoustic time and space - recorded here to beguiling effect.
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