A virtuoso performance on Persian kamanche(h) marks out Morning Dew as a very classy piece of ambient and melodic exploration that’s quite exquisite, and unlike anything I’ve been asked to review on StereoStickman before.
The very, very obvious skill on display here is nothing short of mesmerising. The piano work itself, laying down the rock-solid foundation for the kamancheh to fly over is astonishingly accomplished. Flourishes of trickling melody wash over changes in rhythm effortlessly. At times rolling, at others strictly arpeggiating, and all the while mutating and emoting.
It seems to incorporate many different moods and perspectives as it goes, with occasional jazzy choices of phrasing and then classical inflections – and then again a pop sensibility. It’s bizarrely restless and yet nailed down to be fluid and restful – largely because of the languorous nature of the lead lines that the kamancheh is picking out on top. Its role feels quite mournful and wistful: the harmonic relationship with the piano, whilst beautiful, is also one of slight sadness – almost like a bittersweet farewell.
At this point, I turn to the name of the piece: Morning Dew. Having that as a focus helps an appreciation – implying great clarity and purity, and that’s surely what we have here sonically. Morning Dew is very reminiscent of the work John Metcalfe achieved on his Scorching Bay and A Darker Sunset albums.
A little research unveils that music incorporating 432Hz may have healing properties. I know that I feel better for having listened to something so accomplished, undeniably moving, and simply gorgeous.