There's a school of thought that suggests that the
'ambient music' genre began in 1978 with Brian Eno's 'Music For Airports'. I'm
not sure I'd agree with them though - Eno's album certainly popularised the
term, but if 'ambient' is taken as music to generate a background tone or
atmosphere rather than something to be listened to with intent then I think the
genre has a longer and more refined pedigree than that. For example, no less a
figure than Bach reportedly wrote his 'Goldberg Variations' to order for a man
of nobility who wanted something to listen to on the nights he couldn't sleep,
and there are many other examples in both the classical and popular fields of
music designed to do nothing much that pre-dates anything Eno did.
But whatever, one thing I do know is that
the eighties popularised a bastard offspring of ambient, world and new age music
that was basically akin to Athena posters set to music. Usually found in CD
format on sale at garage forecourts or mail order magazines, on one level they
could be something as simple as recordings of whale songs, but then at the other
were sounds more definitely man made, however much they tried to pretend
otherwise. Pan pipes and harps were always popular, but anything vaguely
'world', vaguely linked to 'ancient cultures far wiser than ours' and the
cod-spiritual promise of a reality banishing, new world of sound to lose
yourself in was all that was needed. In fact, the whole rasion d'etre of these
things is conveniently summed up on the back cover of this album: "After a
difficult and tiring day, or just in need for quiet relaxation, listen to
Haunting Melodies, put your feet up and put the worries and stresses of the day
to one side for a while."
Well, ok, everybody likes a nice sit down and a cup
of tea with something relaxing playing in the background at times, but what we
get here are twenty popular songs arranged as minor key synthesiser washes that
play behind a single wind instrument (flute, saxophone and - yes, pan pipes)
rasping out the basic tune of each. The result is quite an abrasive, overly
forceful sort of sound that's hardly conducive to relaxation or contemplation;
this would in no way fade into the background of anything. And because there's
twenty of them to get through, they don't hang around in doing it either. In
fact, some of these versions ('Daniel', 'Albatross', 'Do That To Me One More
Time', 'Stone In Love With You') are actually harsher, quicker and more in your
face than the originals were.
They're certainly far more grating anyway, to the point that these
melodies 'haunt' in much the same way the demon pig haunted that house in
Amityville. Put this on and the bullish,
domineering playing of tunes that are probably as familiar as your own name
actually forces you to listen and even sing along, at least mentally -
they're that inescapable. While that's
no crime in itself, for a record that bills itself as providing an
aural prescription for stress and worry that takes you away from the here and
now then it falls short enough so as to amount to false advertising. And if it's
not going to do the one job it's meant to do then you may as well listen to the
originals and take this to your local boot sale, along with the 'man and baby'
poster and 'Wings of Love' print. It's for the best.
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