Ned Milligan’s Continental Burns has given us some well needed solace after the trauma of the last few weeks.
It is an organic ambient masterpiece whose drones crack, whoosh, flow and ebb like the myriad natural forces it wants to reacquaints us with. Seasons and tides, barely perceptible changes in the gradient of the sky as the summer day turns night, the gentle dance of blades of grass in an quiet English countryside, these are the instruments with which Continental Burns makes us feel at home in the universe again.
If you observe attentively the front-cover of Hawkwind’s The Warrior at the Edge of Time, you can almost hear Yorishiro bassy ruminations over the mighty winds, a perfect soundtrack for the Warrior, as she gets prepped to jump beyond the Edge of Time.
This is prog-rock for the abyss, simmering with the zenta glow of an acid prophecy, an hallucination whose edge is ominous because it threatens to burn our current self into ashes, the fertile ground for something else.
Get I from Constellation Tatsu.