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6 of 6 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
Music to be hot to., November 17, 1999
This review is from: Atardecer (Audio CD)
All right; here's the deal. If your view of heaven is screaming across the New Mexico desert at night in a convertible cadillac (a la Natural Born Killers or Thelma and Louise), you're in. If you're a Cowboy Junkies fan, you're in. This CD is one that, once hearing, you will understand it in a way special and individual to you. In a way that will mystify everyone whom you introduce it to. If you would sit in someone else's garage at noon, wallowing in 105-degree heat, staring at a perfectly useable unplugged air conditioner, sweating joyfully, you're in. The songs are good, the guitar is good, but the mood is everything. **As makeout music, this album is unsurpassed.
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5 of 5 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
A Masterpiece., November 11, 2001
By A Customer
This review is from: Atardecer (Audio CD)
A hauntingly beautiful album from a fine instrumental band. Do I dare call it a masterpiece? Yes. The songs capture the feel of twilight with a languid and sometimes vaguely menacing sound. Minimalisitc electronic sounds slither through an opiatic landscape of acoustic guitars, plaintive pedal steel, and gentle, fascinating rhythms. Sometimes you even get a glimpse of teeth. I hold this one in VERY high regard and wish that there was some way for an instrumental band with such high artistic integrity and true vision to be better acknowledged. Grab hold of this hidden gem before it slips into the gloaming forever.
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4 of 4 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
FRIEND OF A FRIEND, May 31, 2005
This review is from: Atardecer (Audio CD)
Like an obscure '60's Mexican lounge album, crossed with '70's style synthesizers, and towered over by a 21st Century mixboard, this dark and easy-going odyssey into the cosmos via an Ennio Morricone good, bad and ugly guitar, invokes a mental state of a south-of-the-border saloon, with a nourishment-giving insect at the bottom of your drinking glass, a bowl of organic fungi on the bar, and maybe a bare red lightbulb casting strange shadows around the room. It is in this bar that you have the most profound thought of your life, like, "I never noticed before that my teeth are upside down." Deeper the music goes into the cosmic jungle, the guitar leading you into a starry lit desert, you're transported away, and what started off in the first few revolutions as a modest, maybe even bland, space-psych instrumental, leisurely passing dull meteors, vacant planets, and the Mexican Clint Eastwood on horseback, becomes in a few more spins around the galaxy, the understanding of the song, and the revelation that the fungi tastes much better soaked in wine. And you are not of this world. And you're on a quest to find the magic sombrero.
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