Which fool said that the Sea Of Tranquillity was on the moon? Oh, the celebrated mathemetician and physicist Francesco Grimaldi, you say? Well, all right then, maybe not a fool per se, but the truth is, he could have saved himself all that bother by simply listening to Nottingham’s enterprising young trio Eyre Llew. Granted, he would have had to build a time machine to transport him nigh on 400 years into the future, but why let truth get in the way, eh? After all, no other bugger seems to these days, do they?
And the truth, where Eyre Llew are concerned, is that they are more than capable of taking a melody, then elevating that music to its emotional zenith and beyond. While the band have been understandably compared with the post-rock sound generally associated with the likes of Explosions In The Sky and Sigur Rós, however, there is surely even more to them than that. Fans of those bands should take note, most definitely, but so should those folk who tune into Classic FM’s Hall Of Fame countdown come Easter each year, especially coinnosseurs of evocative works like perennial favourite, Ralph Vaughan Williams‘s ‘The Lark Ascending‘.
So it is that we have tracks like the colossal sounding ‘Parallels‘, which begins in that ever so gentle, chamber-folk style purveyed by Bon Iver (another oft cited reference point) and their ilk, but by the end is a full blown Utopian fantasy land. Some of the minimal guitar work here bears comparison with Vini Reilly’s 2003 Durutti Column vigil to his mother, ‘Someone Else’s Party‘, yet the mood here is somehow happier, as though we’ve arrived on a higher plane where everyone’s soul is filled with at least 100 times the love that anyone back on planet earth could ever hope to muster.
The pretty, nearly nine minute long ‘Edca‘ is arguably Atelo‘s centrepiece, becoming almost a lighters in the air stadium anthem, kind of midway between Lonely The Brave, Avi Buffalo and Six Organs Of Admittance.
‘Oslo‘ is a slow burning, lo-fi highlight which positively seers, to the extent that Atelo frequently feels like the most spiritual of out of body experiences. It’s not an album where you’ll be sprawled out on the bed thinking “I’m listening to the new record by Eyre Llew”, for you’re not really even THERE while it plays. It does a fantastic job of transporting you to another place, a better place, and if ever there was a time that such a thing were needed, it’s now. And I’m grateful, I really am. You should be too; it’s quite simply beautiful.
Normally, I wouldn’t be keen on including reviews of albums that came out a few weeks ago. In Eyre Llew’s case, I’m willing to make an exception. The good news, of course, is that this means you can get hold of it right now. Make sure you do.
The self released Atelo is out now.
