Music to listen to with your eyes closed. Harold Budd had an uncanny gravitational pull, drawing unlikely figures into his orbit. Long before his collaboration with John Foxx, he found himself entwined with the Cocteau Twins, yielding the luminous The Moon and the Melodies. On paper, Foxx, whose own Metamatic remains a landmark of British electronic music, makes for an unlikely bedfellow for the minimalist composer. But Foxx had been listening closely: Budd’s 1984 album The Pearl had become a touchstone for his own thinking about sound and space. When they met, Foxx played Budd what he called “primitive imitations” of his music—sketches of where he imagined the sonic world of The Pearl might lead next.
Category: Harold Budd
Nicola Alesini & Pier Luigi Andreoni :: Marco Polo
Nicola Alesini & Pier Luigi Andreoni’s 1996 ‘ambient-word record’ Marco Polo. Vine-like, lush and minimal, layered and discreet, with assists from Japan’s David Sylvian (vocals), Pierrot Lunaire’s Arturo Stalteri (bouzouki, harmonium), Roger Eno (keyboards, percussion, vocals), David Torn (guitar), and Harold Budd (percussion). Fourth world, indeed.
Harold Budd :: Abandoned Cities
Composer Harold Budd always resented the term “ambient,” with which his music had been saddled since his pioneering collaborations in late 70s and early 80s with Brian Eno. One can imagine the thoughtful, genial Budd being positively exasperated with the even more niche tag “dark ambient.” And yet, Budd’s haunting and uncharacteristically bleak 1984 album Abandoned Cities was dark ambient before the term existed. One of the lesser-known works in Budd’s discography, its synthesizer drones and blighted landscapes seem to speak prophetically to the crisis of our present moment.
Cocteau Twins & Harold Budd :: The Moon and the Melodies
First released in 1986, the collaborative record of dream pop deities Cocteau Twins and minimalist giant Harold Budd is still among the most interesting crossbreeds between so-called pop and so-called art music. By the time of its release, The Moon and the Melodies‘ mix of cerebral drone experimentation and crystalline emotional delivery was at least on par with those at the frontier of pop’s absorption of the avant-garde: John Cale, Laurie Anderson, Arthur Russell, and the like.