Album Review: Federico Durand - A Traves Del Espejo (Through The Mirror)
I bought Federico Durand’s new album, A Traves Del Espejo, which translates to Through The Mirror, on CD, which I probably didn’t need to do—I could have just downloaded it because it’s the kind of album, as I feared, that I would only be able to listen to on my headphones.
This is because of the track, “Time to Sleep,” which
features recordings of a parent and child talking, and when played over the
stereo, this track created a problem for my companion rabbit, Annabell. She
thumped (meaning she was angry or upset) and that was a sure sign that it was
time to shut the album off.
Annabell would give this album a ‘two paws down’ rating
based on this instance alone.
And this is the risk one takes with any music, really, when
you have a companion animal with sensitive ears. But specifically, with
ambient, or experimental music. It’s always a little touch and go with the
weirder stuff I choose to listen to—wondering how she is going to react to it,
which means a bulk of my ambient and experimental music is either a) purchased
digitally and rarely listened to unless I am at the computer for an extended
period of time, or b) purchased physically, but rarely listened to due to
reactions such as a stern thump.
Maybe it’s for the best because like a many of Durand’s
albums, and many albums in this genre, Through
The Mirror is a true headphone record.
It’s a quiet, reserved experience; best suited to intimate
and attentive, rather than something that is played in the car, or over the
home stereo while you make dinner. Durand’s m.o. is usually quiet and reserved,
but Through The Mirror feels even
more so, combining the work of recording bells and chimes found on 2013’s The Language of Fireflies with the
evocative ambient looping techniques of 2014’s La Estrella Dormida.
It’s a record that juxtaposes the slight menace, or damaged
sounding (“Shadow Play”) with sheer beauty and wonder (“The Enchanted Garden,”)
and sometimes both at the same time (“The Cricket of Nacre”), showing what both
ambient and experimental music, as well as Durand as a performer and composer,
are capable of.
Through The Mirror
tries, and succeeds (thumps aside) at showcasing the fragile splendor that can
be found in the most quiet and reflective of moments—an album that walks the
line between being a grand artistic statement (like all of Durand’s work) and a
secret told to you in a voice that barely rises above the most comforting and
reassuring whispers.
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