Last Days These Places Are Now Ruins CATMD151

Last Days' follow up to 2006’s “Sea” “These Places Are Now Ruins” is by the artist’s admission a personal journey about revisiting the past and accepting the present is something we can all truly identify with. The album tells, strictly through feelings, of expectations, disappointments, distance, and the futility of attempting to reclaim lost memories. “These Places Are Now Ruins” is not so much a concept as “Sea” but instead a loosely chronological album documenting thoughts and emotions experienced when returning home after having moved away. The result is often dark and abstract when recalling fears or memories we can't forget but also touching on moments when one explores hopes for the future and the impact loved ones and special times have had on our lives. Last Days' sound remains at times cinematic yet slightly lo-fi and now features more live instrumentation giving “These Places Are Now Ruins” a wider diversity and more fullness of sound. Few things stay the same and those things we wish would change never do. “These Places Are Now Ruins” examines theses themes and over its duration accepts that it's sometimes best for us all to leave the past where it is… [Learn more about Last Days...]

silent ballet

On These Places Are Now Ruins, Graham Richardson's (aka Last Days) follow up to last year's delicate Sea, noticeable changes are abound. For starters, Richardson has opted to step away from the conceptual art and embrace the empirical. The album's name accurately describes the reinterpretation of the artist's memories, be them distant and faded or immediate and potent, and this provides a larger arch to the album which claims to tie the works together despite an apparent lack of tangible commonality between the tracks themselves. This approach has several resonating effects on These Places Are now Ruins, the most obvious being that moods are not held onto very long, as each subsequent memory may have an entirely different emotion attached to it. However, it's interesting to note that this album is, predominantly, much darker than its predecessor, which obviously goes a long way towards unearthing Richardson's personal life. But that's a story for another time...

The buzzword for this album is abstraction; Richardson's intent becomes clear without much effort: These Places Are Now Ruins seeks to step out of the shadows of the cinematic, ambient influences that Last Days came from and instead adopt a technique that is more grounded in lo fi, organic sounds that bring in more live instrumentation than most will give him credit for. And this is a success; the abstraction couples well with the album's theme and Richardson makes it all pretty painless for the listener. Nothing dives too deeply into background music and nothing lingers in the self-indulgent area of pretention as well. A balance between substance and expression is maintained for the better part of an hour, and it's within this region where Last Days is truly impressive.

An issue does arise with accessibility, which is a common point of conflict for releases that have trouble deciding if they are experimental or cinematic. Richardson is not committed to making a stance one way or another, and therefore forces the listener to do it themselves. As such, some tracks are bound to appear either decadent or impoverished, depending on what mindset the listener has chosen. Ideally, a middle ground should be reached by the listener where he can easily conform to the varying soundscape provided by Richardson, but there is a strong sense that his personal journey and the one which the listener traverses are not the same, which means an inherent disconnect is established from the very beginning. In any case, he's putting a lot of faith in his audience to not be complete dolts, and call me pessimistic if you will, but I just can't see many people really 'getting' the point he's trying to drive home here.

Undoubtedly, this is a minimal complaint; the album is nonetheless enjoyable, for the tracks do end up functioning well enough by their own, and any eventual motif resurrected from the audience just heightens the experience. I raise the issue because it's precisely what holds Richardson back enough to prevent this from being a really outstanding album. Certainly Richardson has done well to distance himself from landmark artists such as Stars of the Lid, Loscil, and Deaf Center, but this move towards abstraction does mean that he's now upstaged by much more proficient artists such as Richard Chartier, Taylor Deupree, Alvo Noto, and others. But, for a sophomore release, it's expected to see the artist still coming into his own sound and experimenting with possible new directions, inevitably creating a slightly disjointed work of art in the process. Regardless, Last Days is a quickly rising star who's likely delivered n5md's top album of the year and given himself plenty of room for future growth. This is an exciting time for Mr. Richardson. angryape

If Last Days' 2006 debut "Sea" represented a shift in n5MD's philosophy, from its clinical electronic roots to more expressive sounds, then its follow-up "These Places Are Now Ruins", just might be the one that cements their position as the true exponents of affecting, electronic-based compositions. This album finds Graham Richardson creating some of the most poignant sounds out there at this current time.

"Sea" blurred the line between digital studio manipulation and acoustic instrumentation. It was notable for a strong narrative that ran through it. The narrative detailed a faceless character's disillusionment with his life and his bid to escape from its shackles (journeying to a new land on a small boat). Such sentiments are prevalent in everyday life, around the globe, for example, people continually strive to make a better life for themselves.

Richardson again sets out on a journey on "These Places Are Now Ruins", not physically as such, but as an autobiographical exploration recounting his past while contemplating the present (and possibly the future). Again, these are issues that can be found within every walk of life.

But conveying such honesty is a difficult task through musical composition. This is where Richardson excels. He avoids the pitfalls of an over-bearing digital production and instead comfortably anchors the album at the lo-fidelity end of the spectrum that allows "These Places..." to nurture its nature of integrity. Many of the tracks here feature glimmers of static or other found sounds, as if they have been recorded on vintage radio equipment. It is touches like this that only reinforce Richardson's sentiments of sincerity.

"A Storm Tore This House" starts with a solemn repetitive piano drone, much like the tolling of a large cathedral bell, which is soon enveloped in a foggy cloud of static. Perhaps the storm is to be taken figuratively; whatever may be the case the static and controlled distortion intensifies as Richardson scratches sounds, created from kicking timber around his room, across the mix. The 'storm' soon dies away as sounds of birds basking in clear skies can be heard.

The field recordings throughout gives "These Places..." an earthly feel, a sense of openness, if you will. "Reasons to Go" features gorgeous guitar picking that gives an air of serenity. But this is contrasted by the chaotic sounds of the night around Richardson's hometown of Edinburgh. You can almost picture Richardson, sitting at his window, plucking his guitar as the busy nightlife of Scotland's capital unfolds in front of him.

On tracks such as "The Whole Town Is Against Us", Richardson guides us into contemplating our own past. Amidst the degraded ambiance, muffled distortion and Sigur Ros' style percussion, the listener will find themselves questioning their own choices. Did I say the right words?, did I do the right thing?, have I chosen the correct paths. These are questions that crop up during periods of uncertainty, after all just about every person has at least one regret. "Two Halves of a Line" works in a similar manner, the optimistic guitar awakens a fleeting sense of euphoria, but the broken computer-board static sounds ensure that we are aware that things are not always as they seem.

As an album notable for its poignancy, the most gorgeous moment occurs precisely one minute and forty five seconds into "Look After Yourself". Surrounded by a revolving guitar refrain and mournful orchestration, Richardson unleashes beautiful glockenspiel chimes that free an intense amount of tension. It provides the sort of release that many bands aim for, but will never achieve.

In the end, as the plaintive "Traveling Heart" draws to a close, what we are left with is the perfect sequel to "Sea". A release where Deaf Center's cinematic qualities are channeled through Jasper TX's lo-fi sensibility. "These Place Are Now Ruins" is simply an enthralling piece of work. It portrays Graham Richardson as an honest artist, unafraid to express his innermost feelings on life. His delicate compositions, at times, seem on the verge of collapse, but just like life itself there are flickers of hope peppered throughout. And as many a philosopher will tell you, hope is important. textura

Like his 2006 debut Sea, Graham Richardson's sophomore Last Days outing, These Places Are Now Ruins, again gives voice to the brooding and resigned character of his music. The Edinburgh, Scotland resident purportedly created the album to be an aural document of the thoughts and feelings one experiences when returning home after being away a long time. Not surprisingly, then, regret, ennui, and nostalgia naturally colour his deeply textured electronic moodscapes. His computer-based music transforms its source material until it loses its identifying character, and becomes abstract and blurry in the process.

These Places Are Now Ruins includes numerous lovely moments, such as the blurry string-drenched overture “Station,” which finds Richardson gravitating towards Eluvium territory, and “Saved by a Helicopter,” a pretty interlude of untreated piano. A stormy mass of clatter, haze, and sirens blows the background of “Reasons to Go” but not so loudly that it overwhelms its lilting piano and glockenspiel melodies and acoustic guitar arpeggios. Here and elsewhere, Last Days opts for chord progressions that may be relatively simple but are effective nonetheless. Despite its mournful mood, “Points Bridge” registers as a beautiful, church-like meditation, its ascetic, devotional character warmed by the intermittent appearance of an acoustic guitar and subdued beat pattern. During “Swimming Pools at Night,” celestial hum pierces the rippling cloud of static, enabling the church tones to enter too.

Now that Eluvium has traded—temporarily, at least—the hazier soundscaping style of Talk Amongst the Trees for the more symphonic Copia , the field is wide open for Last Days to lay claim to that hazy style (interestingly, though, Last Days' “Station Part Two,” a stately setting dominated by glockenspiel, piano, and strings, adopts a largely uncluttered approach that aligns it closer in spirit to Copia). These Places Are Now Ruins certainly shows that he's more than up to the challenge. the irish times

Last Days' 2006 debut, Sea, a lo-fi digital gem, passed under the radar for many, but this follow-up is equally worthy of attention. Producer Graham Richardson uses acoustic guitar, piano, field recordings and a variety of other instrumentation to add a warmth and depth often sorely lacking in electronica. Points Bridge, Swimming Pools at Night and Station (Part 2) are cinematic in their scope, and there's a nod to contemporaries such as Deaf Center (Saved by a Helicopter) and Port-Royal (The Whole Town Is Against Us). The theme of the album is thoughts and feelings, good and bad, evoked when returning home after many years, and the 13 instrumental soundscapes conjure these perfectly. An album that rewards with repeat listenings, These Places Are Now Ruins is a beautiful achievement. Highly recommended. www.myspace.com/lastdaysmyspace papercuts

Graham Richardson présente son deuxième opus signé Last Days. Dans la même veine que ‘Sea’ sorti l’an dernier, la démarche est introspective et vise à partager des émotions très personnelles par le biais de l’abstraction. Musique ambient habillée de simples harmonies de piano et de guitare, sans être purement acoustique ou informatique, on nage dans un entre-deux brumeux et profond par ses suggestions émotionnelles.

Il s’agit ici de se tourner vers le passé, de ces balades solitaires et silencieuses vers des lieux bien connus et délaissés depuis des années. Une marche au cœur de la mémoire et dont l’expression tient dans un regard se passant du verbe. Le son se fait lo-fi pour les réminiscences douloureuses (‘Devil’s Wood), mélancolie omniprésente mais aussi espoir et tendresse. ‘Look after Yourself’ est un morceau riche de douceur et de vécu, une personne que l’on étreint par la pensée en lui souhaitant le meilleur, après avoir pris du recul sur l’amertume des blessures, temps de réflexion nécessaire à ce sourire offert au lointain.

Voilà ce que ce disque peut évoquer. Pour celui qui décidera de s’asseoir aux côtés de Richardson sur un flanc de colline en contemplant l’horizon, l’expérience est subtile et touchante. evilsponge

Graham Richardson (Last Days) cuts a solitary figure. Whether trading in marine horizons or rolling countryside, this guy has the power to make you feel alone. Or at least make you feel his loneliness. Great scenery has always possessed the power to inspire and humble with equal measure. These Places are Now Ruins has the same effect. This album IS "great scenery".

Last Days came to our attention with his haunting debut album Sea, and what an unforgettable experience that record turned out to be. Weeks and months afterwards I still found myself drawn back to its sullen, siren call. The new album fits nicely alongside Sea as a companion piece -- more landlocked, yet still evocative of those same emotions that might accompany a forlorn, introspective voyage. Almost all of the 13 titles allude to travel, destinations, or stopping points in-between, These are the only literal clues given (the record remains wordless) as the listener's imagination is left to provide the storyline. Yet somehow, ….Ruins feels more reflective than its predecessor. Apprehension takes a backseat to nostalgia this time around.

….Ruins is a perfect 21st Century testament to the belief that the most moving and uplifting music is often steeped in melancholy. Richardson himself describes his work as "cinematic lo-fi" and in this respect I think he trumps the writers. Cinematic lo-fi fits perfectly. With warm acoustics and rain blurred loops, Last Days has garnered all manner of (fair) comparisons with the likes of Deaf Centre, Eluvium, and even Sigur Ros (The more abstract movements of their ( ) album are a clear reference). Yet to critically dissect his music and pick over the composite pieces is arguably missing the crucial point of Last Days. It hardly matters whether Richardson makes use of acoustics or electronics, field recordings or pro-tools. Every click and whirr he employs is there for good reason and not merely out of any urge to push the technological limitations. Instead you sit back and enjoy each epic vista the music paints. Like a great author, able to create a landscape in the mind of his reader, Last Days really puts you THERE, into his world. The end result is everything to the listener. Yet ironically this is in direct contrast to the narrative content of …Ruins, in which the journey is far more important than the destination.

So if These Places are Now Ruins is to the landscape what Sea was to the ocean - rugged, tempestuous and desolate, it makes for perfect listening accompaniment to a remote British winters day. At its most touching, this record serves as a reminder of the fragility of the human soul. At its bleakest, it somehow offers the unlikeliest of comfort and solace. So pull on a chunky, Argyle fisherman's sweater, light a roaring open fire and let your mind wander into Richardson's picture. These places may well now be ruins but somehow, someway everything is going to be okay.

Achingly beautiful. the music lobby

Graham Richardson's debut "Sea" of 2006 was a very promising album, but this second helping is a breath taking journey that seems to have a life of its own. These Places Are Now Ruins explores the feeling of returning to a place a long time after you have left it, and finding pieces of ruined memories in it. The album incorporates lo-fi noises reminiscent of Jasper TX and Fennesz, but it must be said that it achieves its best qualities at its melodic instrumentations. Ambient enthusiasts should make sure not to miss this. cold room

Séquelle parfaite de Sea, These Places Are Now Ruins reprend le train en marche et achemine lentement l’auditeur vers de nouvelles contrées douces-amères. Après le concept utilisé à la création de Sea, à savoir l’évocation de la finalité inhérente à toute chose, ce nouvel opus s’attache à mettre en musique l’action du retour en arrière. Retour en des lieux connus puis oubliés, retour sur des évènements marquants ponctuant la vie de tout un chacun, retour enfin vers un passé (et toutes ses expressions) afin d’en tirer un bilan artistique. Musicalement, Graham a osé (et bien lui en a prit) approfondir ses recherches acoustiques et c’est avec plaisir que l’on retrouve piano et guitare, bien plus présents et actifs que sur le précédent album, se mêler aux atmosphères vaporeuses existantes et entonner à nouveau leur (joliment triste) complainte. Toujours aussi minimaliste, on va vite déceler une luminosité encore inconnue au sein des titres de ce disque. Moins grave, moins pesante, moins claustrophobe que Sea, l’ambiance s’illumine parfois au détour d’un arpège aérien, d’une nappe de clavier onirique, voir d’un sursaut rythmique ( bien que franchement downtempo) d’une batterie lancinante. Ne reste que Devil’s Wood pour plonger la tête la première dans un nihilisme sonore glacial et effrayant. Oui, on peut penser que ce retournement en direction d’une hypothétique genèse s’accompagne de la lueur, à la fois guide et escorte, des nostalgies glanées tout au long du périple. Une fois encore, Last Days a fait dans le beau, le sentimental, l’émotionnel et par-dessus tout, le sincère. Si vous aviez su goûter au poignant vague à l’âme de Sea, These Places Are Now Ruins deviendra peut-être la métaphore musicale d’un touchant mal du pays. ondarock

Il viaggio di Last Days riprende. Ci eravamo lasciati con sbigottimento incantato sulle rive di un mare luminoso, raffigurato nella copertina dell’esordio “Sea”. Ricordiamo ancora adesso la forza straripante che animava ogni singolo episodio, la solitudine intrisa in ogni frangente, il sibilo di un vento mai così tagliente. Ci sovviene quel gusto sibillino emanato da quella musica, da quel mistico incrociarsi di toni a volte contrastanti.

“These Places Are Now Ruins” è generato dalla stessa scintilla propulsiva, dallo stesso intento. Se “Sea” aveva come tema fondante il percorso interiore dell’autore (e di ognuno di noi) che, oppresso da una non bene identificata irrequietezza, se ne fuggiva disperato; questo nuovo capitolo rappresenta lo sviluppo di questa minaccia, la sua evoluzione. Infatti, si può intuire ciò leggendo distrattamente sia il titolo dell’opera, sia quello delle canzoni. “Queste luoghi sono adesso delle rovine”, o ancora, “Tutta la città è contro di noi”, finendo con “Ragioni per partire”. E’ evidente che questa odissea è ben lontana dall’essere finita e questa simbiosi fra i vari componenti di essa, rappresenta un valore aggiunto di sicura fascinazione. Nello specifico, qua si da sfogo a sensazioni ben precise, rivolte nei confronti dell’oppressione urbana, dell’incapacità di svolgere (e consumare) una vita con la dovuta serenità all’interno di una sistema troppo piccolo (o troppo grande) per essere tollerato. Musicalmente, il cambio di rotta, invece, è abbastanza deciso. Seppur “Sea” non era un esempio di musica massimalista, canzoni come “Fear” o “Two Steps Back” avevano dentro di loro qualcosa che le rendeva, forse involontariamente, molto enfatiche e splendidamente melodiche. In “These Places Are Now Ruins” c’è da registrare un ulteriore sviluppo, a favore di una deliziosa storpiatura ambientale, un corpo nato e generato con pochissimi elementi, dalle sembianze spoglie e ridotte, un po’ come le sconfinate vallate montuose dipinte nella foto posta in copertina.

Il timido inizio è così sancito da “Stations”. Sembra di vederlo quel cielo mattutino davanti a una stazione, aspettando un treno qualsiasi, diretti verso una destinazione che nemmeno sappiamo. Un piccolo spiraglio di luce, quel timido tepore misto al gelo delle prime ore del giorno, i rumori di persone mai viste che paiono seguire il nostro stesso tragitto. Sensazioni, che, quasi senza volere, questa prima traccia è capace di rilasciare. La povertà di queste composizioni ribalta pensieri ormai sopiti, li desta senza far baccano e si addormenta senza lasciar tracce. Mentre chilometri vengono fagocitati dai vagoni danzanti sul crine di binari mai così scintillanti, ci si interroga sul motivo per cui stiamo fuggendo, da cosa stiamo evadendo. Le ragioni ci sovvengono soltanto al sorgere del sole, quando i colori iniziano a farsi nitidi, quando alcuni raggi dorati screziano lo sguardo, costretto a prendersi un attimo di pausa. Piccole stille di melodia volatile, attimi da custodire, diari da riempire e mille indecisioni da sbrogliare. “Reasons To Go” è tutto questo, ed anche di più. Nella gamma di orizzonti che la mente si immagina, il fato sceglie per noi una distesa sconfinata con un ponte in lontananza, con cui attraversiamo un fiume, per poi immetterci in una lunga galleria buia. “Points Bridge” è perfetta e concisa, con il suo narrare semplice e diretto, sorretta da una chitarra spartana accompagnata da solitarie note di piano che donano movimento a un flusso elettronico flemmatico.

“Devil’s Wood” disegna i contorni di un albero maligno, con rumori pungenti e scostanti; la cortissima “Saved By A Helicopter” si fa notare grazie a un bozzetto pianistico a dir poco incantevole. Il titolo della sesta traccia lascia senza parole, con quel suo tono catastrofico. “A Storm Tore This House” è una tappa importante, perché tinteggia una tempesta all’interno di una mansione di fortuna, prima aggredita da un forte agglomerato di eventi atmosferici, poi conciliata con la pace attraverso un canto di usignolo chiaro e risolutore. La luce della filtrata da un vetro spesso quanto l’odio per il buio, pare irriconoscibile, per di più se guardata con il tiepido calore di una piscina permeato nella pelle. Infatti, “Swimming Pools At Night” narra storie di inquietitudini notturne, appena mitigate dal piacere di un bagno oscuro. Il risveglio che succede a una notte così tormentata non può che essere colmo di incertezze, ed infatti “Two Halves Of A Line” rappresenta la difficoltà con cui dobbiamo far fronte nel prendere una decisione, decidendo quale delle due metà scegliere. La musica è sempre la stessa, fra distorsioni digitali, chitarre lasciate al loro destino e fragorosi accenni di ritmo. Riassumendo le ultime tappe di un percorso lungo ma mai sfiancante, si riesce infine a scorgere le rovine tanto attese (splendida la drum-machine di “Ruins”), constatando che, nonostante la completa disfatta, “le città sono sempre contro, ed avverse a noi” (da incorniciare le dilatazioni cosmiche di “The Whole Town Is Against Us”). Attratti da un finale seducente e sinuoso, “Look After Your Self” si distingue per pregevole fattura, la conseguente seconda parte di “Stations” completa e collabora all’immedesimazione finale, che è poi un viaggio di ritorno identico e simmetrico a quello di andata. Il tutto naufraga fra le braccia di “Travelling Heart”, con grande pathos e sincerità.

Giunti per la seconda volta alla fine, constatiamo con grande felicità ed orgoglio che “Sea” non era uno schiocco casuale, non un flash apparso per sbaglio, ma un’opera saldamente supportata da una fantasia smodata e capacità empatiche e umorali fuori dal comune, trasmesse, con rapporto di evidente dipendenza vitale, alla stessa musica da lui composta. Con uno sguardo al sole che tramonta, siamo già in attesa per l’arrivo del terzo capitolo di un percorso infinito e mai concluso.

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