Post Heldon, Pinhas's solo work has often been conducted with an electric guitar and the kind of infinite tape delay system associated with Robert Fripp and his collaborations with Brian Eno, though recently (like Fripp) he has abandoned the hassles of tapeloops for a stack of shiny digital boxes. In a casual blindfold test 9 out of 10 progheads would probably swear that this album was the work of the Crimson King himself. (If Stars in their Eyes ever do an ambient art rock special, Richard's your man for the Fripp impersonation). Though Pinhas adopts the same, pure fuzzed tone and a liking for big slides up and down the fretboard, closer listening reveals a more personal aesthetic at work. He generates billowing clouds of processed guitar which shift through different tonal centres, sometimes ambiguously, sometimes gently, sometimes suddenly. Improvised lines hover and swoop in the distance, but the guitarist avoids flash heroics, more concerned with maintaining the constant flow of notes into his angelic dronescape. It's music that's in flux and stasis at the same time, with an almost sculptural presence, stuffed with overtones and rich textures. Played loud, it's almost too much, like having your head stuffed inside a recently struck church bell, but it's a deep, fulfilling listen at any volume. If Robert Fripp is still the chairman of The Heavenly Music Corporation, then Richard Pinhas is its C.E.O.
