Sarah Davachi - Antiphonals

There's an unusual dissonance between Sarah Davachi's restless creativity energy, which at times seems near-limitless given her prolific nature, and the minimal and highly considered nature of the music she makes. Antiphonals is something like her sixth piece of work in the last two years, but displays no evidence of either having been rushed into existence or creative fatigue. Productivity is one thing, vision is another entirely. Like with much of her best work, there's a conceptual centre to Antiphonals which orientates a path through the record - this isn't purposeless neo-classical prettiness, instead a focused exploration of Davachi's emotional range, expressed through a distinctive tonal dexterity and timbral weight. Aside from the harpsichord that opens the record, this is music that generally whispers its power, delicately arranged drones built from woodwind, pianos, organs and horns that hinge on the interplay of negative space. Minimal instrumental music is of course suggestive by construction, though Antiphonals does feel especially heavy and enveloping, all storms clouds in the distance implying a quiet drama, akin to Werner Durand's Hemisphere's or Maryanne Amacher's investigation of sonority. Majestic stuff, and consider this - Davachi is still in her early 30s. A true and rare talent.