8 Songs, 56 Minutes

EDITORS’ NOTES

There was a time when Dead Can Dance had the playing field all to itself. The Australian duo of Brendan Perry and Lisa Gerrard played atmospheric music so far left of center that it seemed improbable the mainstream would ever catch up. But as today's musicians have easier access to the technology needed to make such gothic sounds, Perry and Gerrard lurk as elder statesmen. Here, "Children of the Sun" is the welcoming epic, a symphonic piece that revels in its slow sense of warp. "Anabasis" breaks into a Middle Eastern trance with Gerrard melting into the instrumentation. "Kiko" builds from ominous, downcast synths and a pounding beat into an exploration of Arabesque mysticism. "Opium"—at less than six minutes, the album's shortest track and a virtual jog in the park—is the most sonically arresting track. Its West Indian drums and solid melodic lines set a tone worthy of Joy Division for Perry to hand down tablets from the mount. 

EDITORS’ NOTES

There was a time when Dead Can Dance had the playing field all to itself. The Australian duo of Brendan Perry and Lisa Gerrard played atmospheric music so far left of center that it seemed improbable the mainstream would ever catch up. But as today's musicians have easier access to the technology needed to make such gothic sounds, Perry and Gerrard lurk as elder statesmen. Here, "Children of the Sun" is the welcoming epic, a symphonic piece that revels in its slow sense of warp. "Anabasis" breaks into a Middle Eastern trance with Gerrard melting into the instrumentation. "Kiko" builds from ominous, downcast synths and a pounding beat into an exploration of Arabesque mysticism. "Opium"—at less than six minutes, the album's shortest track and a virtual jog in the park—is the most sonically arresting track. Its West Indian drums and solid melodic lines set a tone worthy of Joy Division for Perry to hand down tablets from the mount. 

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