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Kara-Lis
Coverdale: Grafts (Boomkat Editions)

Grafts
is presented as a single 22:32 track, but it gradually reveals itself
to be a suite of meditative variations rather than one continuous
sprawl. And as it unfolds, particularly in its second act (about
eight minutes in), “Grafts” starts to take on a fuller pulse,
far-off woodwinds providing rhythmic momentum while Coverdale’s piano
flourishes provide an active, glimmering din. The overall effect of
Grafts is not unlike watching the way weather conditions affect the
surface of a lake, sometimes shimmering and rippling, sometimes a
rolling downpour, sometimes serene and muted, sometimes even
mysterious or murky.

Being a single track and only just over twenty
minutes, Grafts surprisingly delivers a lot of variety while
masterfully shifting shape. At fifteen minutes, the muted tones that
bristle with mids and lows are eventually a sharp contrast to the
active melange of sounds that preceded by fewer than five minutes,
but the progression is smooth and prolonged. Those muted tones reveal
themselves to be in fact her piano, which becomes gradually clearer,
its hammers feeling muted in the same hushed method often used by
contemporary pianist Nils Frahm at his most restrained. Eventually it
dissipates into a flurry of lightly twinkling keys, slowly fading
then to silence. It goes by with such grace and ease that I’ve
immediately pressed play all over again multiple times with each
sitting. Pastoral and beautiful stuff.

Buy it: Boomkat