Review Summary: Gorgeous but empty.
I think it was due to my surroundings that I was so willing to crown
Lights & Motion the next big thing in post rock. Walking home from a late class with light snow flurries glistening from the streetlights certainly framed the music in a favorable light. It turns out 'Reanimation' fits that whole picturesque scenario almost too perfectly. With gentle cascading piano and lilting strings echoing through the empty night, I can’t imagine a snowflake having a better soundtrack for descent. There was nothing especially unique about the music, just consistent beauty that filled my mind with improbable dreams. It coaxed out a sense wonder that made me look at the Earth for more than just a footfall between unending stresses. This was it, the album that could put me in a mindset to forget problems and escape from the grey of daily life.
The next day was a dismal affair, no sun to speak of and just enough wind to make the cold uncomfortable. Deciding to spin 'Reanimation' again to reach that realm of blissful carelessness, I grew upset when no escape came. In fact, the album almost seemed to be ignorant, swelling with happiness in its climaxes when there was no reason for such glee. The clash was overwhelming, and the music became intolerable. It was obvious, then, that the music had no ability to create a picture of its own. It required a frame of reference--a visual aid that allowed the music to become a backdrop, elevating beyond its simplicity to a land of
more. This is a problem that plagues most instrumental rock bands in post-'The Earth is Not a Cold Dead Place' era--a problem that was masked by the exquisiteness of the music for my particular environment.
Lights & Motion has created a vibrant beauty in 'Reanimation', the likes of which hasn't been seen in post-rock for many years, but haven’t grounded it in reality. It’s too bad, too, because when you see it in the right light, it’s damn near perfection.
