Few phrases can illicit an eye-roll as readily as the term ‘drone music’. Explaining to someone who isn’t a hack music writer that you, yeah, like ‘drone music’, merely confirms to that person that you’re an effete snob, and the reason they don’t make rock n’ roll any more. When drone is as gorgeously seamless as L’Orange L’Orange it doesn’t really matter.
Gregg Kowalsky is an ambient musician from LA, and this is his first new music in eight years. It’s a good time to return; the net is crammed with a profusion of electronic sub-genre, shoe-gaze is beginning to peak into the zeitgeist again, and there is generally a wider appreciation of niche sounds.
To pick out singular tracks from L’Orange L’Orange is counter-intuitive. The appeal of the album is how it washes over you. It flows with remarkable fluidity, humming tones and soothing melodies that slowly creep along. ‘Tuned to Monochrome’ is a moment of zen-like calm. It is strange to describe music as ‘peaceful’, or ‘calming’. Generally people do not listen to music for these reasons. But that is the effect of this album. It’s a kind of therapy.
This severely limits the appeal of the album, of course. This isn’t an album you listen to on the clapham omnibus. But for moments alone, particularly amongst nature, or at least away from the din of the city, L’Orange L’Orange will speak to you, in its wordless way.