Blow Up (IT)

The recent transfer of Taylor Deupree from the center of Brooklyn to the forests of Pound Ridge has evidently had effect on musics of the American author, by now more and more intimate and messengers of an acute feeling of stillness, appearing immobility more or less. To watch the window and to find a landscape where all it has become grigiore, snow and haze, where the only color clearly is the yellow of the leaves sand banks and the sonorous column the wind that hisses between the trees. It is the winter of upstate New York that specchia straight straight in the sounds of Northern, cineree and reflecting webbings embroidered with guitar, plan electrical worker and melodica, wrapped of field recordings and storpiate digitally from intensive treatments of Kyma. It is the feeling to sink in a soft niveo mantle, sferzati from breezes novembrine of the north, intontiti from the complex melodica frame of a music extremely elaborated that but it appears fragile like the membrane that separates sleep from state of waking.