“Valerie Loop”: Extended ambient successions opens the piece in heavily modal sweeps, painting a landscape reminiscent of some early Brian Eno / Jon Hassell leisures (“Possible Musics”, “Discreet Music”). Jazzy bells of the keyboards and soft rustles of the high-hat move this summer music into an absentminded meditation… You’re left standing on the sidewalk. You forget who you are… and soundless voids appear and recede…

“When Julia Smiles”: Like a sad, sorrowful ballad of olden days, gone-by centuries, this brief comment passes in an atmosphere akin to that of medieval troubadours portraying princesses and gallant riders of Brittany…
It’s a repetitious game, semi-minimalistic in the intense absentmindedness and introversion of a platonic relationship with reality.
Beautifully counterpoints of piano and strings signal a sign-language message of restfulness and appeasement. It’s a sad audio poem of the moment…

“Miren Maitea”: A denser wall of sound embellishes this bit. It’s ambient, rhythmic – but still soft-spoken, with an eroticism of the kind that smokes like incense in Ralph Lundsten’s “Cosmic Love”, which som of the clicking, obscure rhythmic percussion and the hidden seriousness reminds me of.
A kind of summer day hypnosis silently rises out of the elasticity of this bulging piece, and you’re seeing everything through crystal glass… as you soar downwind in an introverted flight one decimeter above the sidewalk… elevated like the lamas of Tibet…

“Coltrane” is not any kind of homage to the hero – at least not audible – but instead introduces a electroacoustic factoryscape of metallic shrills and gleaming light through cracks in giant ovens, similar to some standing-wave phenomena of some of the static, vibrating works of La Monte Young – but much more elusive, much dreamier, aloof, with a fragrance of the beyond, of a secret, hidden hinterland. This is very beautiful electroacoustics from Italy; delicate poetry; the dreams of Giacomo Leopardi…

“Krill” introduces a growling tenor saxophone on a backdrop of murmuring, humming drones of an unknown origin, like Tibetan monks in Lhasa in a cloud of shimmering insights into the Bardo of the hereafter…
The tenor saxophone – in a multilayered approach – paints urgent messages in gold on the deep blue monk backdrop (and I lie back in bed in the luxury of a day off, listening, with a cup of coffee at hand…)

“Lovloop” could well be taken from a Björk session or a Björk re-mix (and Björk is in fact including one of Gigi Masin’s tunes in her show, eventually to record it). A steady, slow rhythm, elusive, with elastic percussion and extended stretches of synthesized beauty, moves like a violet color constantly applied along a wall, or like the view in a movie camera panning an endless horizon; hypnotic, seductive, sensual – in erotic introversion…

“Hiris” is vision of a bamboo grove of shrill, wavy rods. It feels like making your way through tall grass with colorful butterflies (only half real) fluttering around your hair. This could be the emotional or esthetical essence of a Donovan song; maybe “Jersey Thursday” or “Ballad of a Crystal Man”, in a senseless, soft beauty that you could easily get lost in…

“Sunshine Breakfast” opens like a teeny-pop sarcasm, but evolves through wind-blown curtains into a dreamscape of candy bars and soft drinks, where cartoon sounds whistle and wind past your perception, in peripheral glimpses of something you just forgot…

“Parallel Lines” shudders in dark vibrations of ominous colorings, spraying the sound space like police squads using fire hoses to disperse an angry crowd, and in the open space thus created, a lonely piano preaches humility, love, peace…

“Lontano” – which is the title track – lets a Keith Jarrett piano join up with a hushed, subdues voice just humming in tune with the tune, while a musical phrase keeps on recurring, repeating… in that same introverted thoughtfulness that colors so much of this transparent collection of sound art. “Lontano” was just a glimpse of something, a fraction of something, passing in the wink of an eye…

“Waterblue” indeed appears like a series of impressionistic reflections off of the waters of the Mediterranean Sea – and on the shore: a young god of ancient myths, playing his flute; just the vibrancy of Existence and a salty breeze… Set sails!

“Watamu” could be African village music or New York jazz stage improvisation, in a thudding moment of reflections of reflections of the moment, in a vibrating NOW, with a venomous echo attached, rotating like a spinning top in a spiral across the kitchen table, as the child watches with apprehensive attention how it moves towards the edge… and the crispness of sound makes you chew sand…

“The Jean Plan” again opens on the light note, with a soft touch and a careful approach, like fingertips across your forehead, tapping… and they’re pouring honey down your back… It’s an initiation rite into the sensual worlds of erotic audio… and your senses are fondled with auditory bliss – and again; this wouldn’t do Björk any harm, sounding like the beginning of “Cocoon” or “It’s Not Up To You”.

This is one of the dreamiest, most sensual audio collections I’ve heard. Beautiful! (with an edge!) The cover art by Giovanni Antognozzi perfectly matches the fastidious content of the CD with its laconic, minimalistic expression!

(But the label has to provide linear information and texts in English!!!)