Balance is the most essential concept to achieve; in life, in nature, in composition. This concept is one which is strikingly accomplished in Croy’s Kaniza. Koto, piano, tape, and electronics—all unlike one another—creating harmony of dissonance; appearing tranquil and elegant, but revealing itself to be complex and joyously unrefined. Moments of finely composed notes are in direct contrast to free experimentation. This album is like stargazing. From initial glances and distance, a poignant and isolating stillness is welcoming, perhaps even oppressively felt. But shifting perspective, moving inward, a cacophonous and dizzy chaos envelops you within its omniscient presence.
Such divergent elements woven together so cohesively creates a complexity of emotion with an unknowable vastness that can only be described as vacuous. There is a sense of calm coupled equally with an air of frenzy, a tapestry of opposites unified by the immense gravity of their difference. You listen and have no choice but to feel small. There are moments where defined constellations of melody become divinely clear, offering a sense of knowing and direction to guide you through the times of the seemingly boundless span of tumult and discord. Each paradox of tones: the echoing piano, distorted notes plucked out on koto, sounds of tape loops and electronic buzzing, fuse into one another to forge a piece only defined by the unifying sense of encompassing grace, present from open to close of the album.
More about: Maxwell August Croy
