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Feb
1998 | Alternative Press
After the excellent, if derivative, Stereolab knock-off, 1995's Multi-personality
Tabletop Vacation, the blissful but average new-age-bachelor-pad music
of 1997's Tenijra, and more steady singles than the Buzzocks, Cumulus
Mood Twang is Flowchart's dreamiest, catchiest and most original statement
yet. That could be partially attributed to engineer Michael Deming's influence;
he has proved that no one gets better sounds from vintage equipment, or
better helps free-flowing geniuses match the finished project to the harmonies
in their head, than he does. After opening with a teasingly infectious
should-be club hit, the buoyant and oscillating wildly "Envelopment Continuum,"
band leader Sean O-Neal sets about his real task-matching heavenly choir
sounds to celestial drones that are indeed worthy of an album with "cumulus"
in its title. It 's the natural next step from Tenjira, adding depth and
beauty to already enrapturing drones, pushing his sounds from pleasant
coming-down background music to the center of attention. O'Neal does this,
ironically, by backing off, and the angelic harmonies make the difference.
The gorgeous, enveloping keyboards seem more like whispers, cascading
rather than droning, entrancing subtly and quietly, unfolding gracefully
and gradually over six or seven minutes, as in the beautifully drifting
"Icicles And Clipboards" and "Rust A La Glare." O'Neal might never be
mistaken for Stereolab/High Llamas member Sean O'Hagan again.
Nov
1997 | College Music Journal
Sean O'Neal is a busy guy. The mastermind behind the project Flowchart,
Sean has been a part of 16 7" singles and 15 compilations. The second
long player from Flowchart blows through your stereo as quietly as an
innocent breeze builds into a smirking thunderstorm. Each track is a rolling
wavy push of energy, determined to make the boundaries between sight and
sound very unclear. The whimpering vocals and buzzing melody become atmospheric
as the disc progresses, and you begin to feel, well, woozy. This playful
nature is deceiving, however, because under Flowchart's bubbles, there
is an ominous sense of eternity, a nervous caution that makes the music
sound more and more dense. "Rain Boa Bye" pulls no punches with its looped-back
vocals and backward snippets, giving off a tense, futuristic vibe. Part
of the fascination with Flowchart is diving into its majestic soundscape.
The most hopeful track, "Rust A La Glare," quickly turns into a kind of
global stutter-step square dance of (what we can only imagine are ) pixies,
then opens up to a mosaic of even smaller sounds. O'Neal comes off as
a merry prankster, propping audial buckets of atmosphere over the doors
of perception. He may be busy, but the sounds he works with are eternal.
If you do dive into Cumulus, it will play these tricks on you,too. Float
through the building noise of "Another Word Explodes,"the calmed "Envelopment
Continuum" or "Icicles and Clipboards."
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