BLUE TWENTY-TWO logically follows BLUE TWENTY-ONE, which I just so happen to have reviewed a bit ago, but this is a completely different kind of animal… a wild one! Without the “l.” Anyway, Alex Alexopolous uses barely anything more than her voice, wordless, chanting, wafting through time and space. It’s a gorgeous instrument, and, steeped in mystery, it drifts through forests, beckoning travelers to remote monasteries where the only sound heard in the hallowed halls is Alexopolous’s voice. High above the walls in a tower a light shines as a beacon, a light that never goes out. Only those in tune with the reverberations of the vocalizations on a deep, subconscious level can find the monastery. I found it. I’m glad I did. Like Enya on a Julianna Barwick trip, Wild Anima fills the air with magic, and soft light seems to permeate the woods even in the middle of the night. Did I say “gorgeous” yet? I’m about to – it’s gorgeous stuff. BLUE TWENTY-TWO is the kind of thing you can throw on at a séance, a wake, a Renaissance faire, or during a D&D session, and it would be the perfect accompaniment to the more enchanting moments of a fantasy film. I find myself visualizing all kinds of things while it plays (as if you couldn’t tell). I’ve got the original version, but the re-release comes with ten extra tracks, all remixes. It’s sort of odd hearing Alexopolous run through the remix ringer, but it’s decidedly not unpleasant … just different. And that’s OK. Come for the voice, stay for the reinterpretations. All good in the end.
Wild Anima
Blue Tapes
-- Ryan Masteller
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