There's a particular kind of artist who seems to step out of their time just enough to make it visible. Not outside of it, not ahead of it in any obvious, declarative way – but slightly misaligned, as if hearing the decade at a different pitch. David Sylvian, in the years immediately following Japan, became that kind of figure. Not by reinvention in the usual sense, but by subtraction. By quieting things down until what remained felt almost unguarded . . .
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