Title : Branches
Artist : Orla Wren/Cyril Secq
Formats : Special Edition CD, Regular Edition CD, Digital
Label : Dronarivm
Date : 2016
Branches came into being during talks of a project long planned between Tui (Orla Wren) and Cyril Secq (member of the band Astrïd).
Having worked together when Cyril contributed guitar to a couple of Orla Wren's previous albums the idea then formed to do something further and even more collaborative. At the same time, Cyril had recorded many guitar parts, as a 'solo' project, that had never been released.
These recordings were then the basis, the bones for Tui to work with, completely free.
It's a duet between acoustic strings and processing, field recordings, edits and organic arrangements.
This music steadily ramifies, growing out of itself like a wild tree.
The tunes woven together and untwine again as a branch shaken by the wind. It sounds focused, calm and distinct.
Although everything has been done in distant places (France and Scotland) the result sounds like two musicians
experimenting in the same room, sharing their background and culture.
The beautiful photographic work from Spanish born Nieves Mingueza brought the whole project together
in the form of these two very special editions of Branches for Russian label Dronarivm
Cyril Secq - acoustic guitar, harmonium, piano.
Tui - piano, organ, cello, bowed zither, analog synthesizer, electronics, whistles, field recordings, processing and mastering.
"I’d certainly recommend that you check out the albums The One Two Bird And The Half Horse and Book Of The Folded Forest
if you want to hear the natural Orla Wren sound in its full flood of high emotional excelsis.
Branches, as implied by the name, represents a kind of elegant off-shoot and is the sound of older, wiser, and maybe even slightly sadder heads.
But most importantly this work continues in the tradition of all Orla Wren albums (superbly abetted here by Secq) of a music that,
although superficially suggestive of calmness and a meditative nature, is in fact a music of excited anticipation, of bated breath.
Herein lays both its true difference and its little touch of genius. Breathe it in.”
Keiron Phelan|Delusions Of Adequacy
Orla Wren and Cyril Secq’s Branches is distinct and organic music that grows underneath a mountain of fresh soil.
Past its leaves, a great tree stands in the centre; the pulsing beat of Branches.
Every single branch is joined to the body of the tree, linked in some way or another to a different part of the body.
And the music walks slowly along the veined course of its gnarled body, the warm melodies and the fragile strings resting in the crook of its arms, a treehouse that acts as a kind of safe house, somewhere secluded away from the troubles of the world.
Static eats away at the leaves of the music, as does a light, insistent dissonance.
As a result, the melody becomes obscured, not so much fighting for its place but instead accommodating and seemingly welcoming this new visitor.
In an age where disease can and does afflict millions of trees (it’s recently been reported that the ash tree is facing extinction in Europe),
it’s hard to tell whether this gentle intrusion is an invasive presence or a returning, long-time friend.
In a very distinct way, the reassuring, tonally sure melody contrasts with the field recordings, sharp edits and splintering abrasions.
It is a balancing act (as is the case with almost any collaboration), and the record stands on a sturdy, upright spine.
At times, the microsounds vie for dominance, but they also know when to let the melody of the guitar roam.
And that is all Orla Wren’s doing – his use of space and his sensitivity of what the moment needs, emotionally and, taking a step back,
as a piece of sculpted art in itself, is always suitable and respectable to the mood of the music.
Branches is important because it embraces the unusual, standing on its own in its forest of enchantment, finding solace (and musical purity) in the path less travelled, and that’s the only way to progress in a genre where many people look the same.
James Catchpole|Fluid Radio