In a never-ending sea of reissues from the world of early ambient music, ernest hoodof neighborhood It remains a beacon of light shining through the fog. Antiques from 1975 are layered with field recordings of children running and playing, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere.Where other electronic music of the era often sought transcendence Star Also on the spiritual side, which Ernest Hood found in a street candy store. Confined to a wheelchair after contracting polio in his late 20s, Hood turned to sound as a way to connect with the world, mixing miscellaneous recordings he made around his Portland home with lush zither and synthesizer tunes. Mixed together, nostalgic and nostalgic songs dedicated to the local community. process.Much the same as the Brian Wilson imagined smile As “Symphony to the Teenage God”, neighborhood I found a flicker of God in the buzz of a busy playground.
not like neighborhoodIt has been known among collectors for years, even before its 2019 reissue. Return to Woodlands Collect materials you’ve never heard of. Recorded between 1972 and his 1982, it is identified only as “Western Oregon” in the notes. Return to Woodlands Obviously cut from the same fabric, but with different pigmentation. neighborhood A surreal sense of small-town charm. The synths succumbed to a more acoustic palette that evoked the serenity of Oregon’s majestic wilderness. It may not reach the same level of eccentric whimsy as its predecessor, but the soft patchwork of sounds also means it’s the easier of the two to listen to.
The Oregon Coast has some of the most beautiful scenery in the United States. Hood captures that mystery in his recordings of fairy-tale zither and babbling fields. On “Dusk,” his synths hang in the air like fog drifting into Astoria, with tense blocks of notes floating in a strange, eerie stillness. “Into the Groves” glistens like a mossy waterfall, with Hood playing a dizzying arpeggio that slowly dissolves into a shimmering sweep across the strings. The real joy comes when Hood taps directly into the feeling of being a young child wandering through the woods. On “Pleasant, This Garden,” Django tiptoes along a pattern of plucked strings that recalls Reinhardt’s slowed-down swing. Meanwhile, “Bedroom of the Absent Child” sways to the golden chords he plucked with his fingers, its serene melody curling up and down like a music box, each little note barely rolling down at once.