

There is a unique, darkly emotional grain running though Syntax. The big voice and the glistening machines map out their own storm lashed terrain, Jan's tales of soul survival and mind fragmentation have a rare gravitas. There's a heroic, explorative quality to the songs. The monumental, gliding electro hymn "Message", the kinetic, doomy uplift of 'Destiny' and 'Pride's neon lit nu-gospel, sound like the product of real soul struggle. "Will you ever get to not regret every day that greets you," murmurs Jan at the start of 'Tower Of Power's alien dubscape. Dark times are there again within 'Strange Days' cyber beats and in 'Fever' the inner warfare of lust and love fight it out against glowering synthesizers. 'Little Love' sees Jan musing at the trivia and magnitude of our daily existence, wrapped in a statement about the enduring pain of war, whilst 'Time 2 Fly' finds the pair leaving the earth entirely with a dreamy film soundtrack for an odyssey to future's unknown. The moods vary from reflective ambience to hurtling thriller pulses but there's more shade than light. If Mike and Jan had planned it that way perhaps they'd have stopped to analyse their commercial tactics, but the album came out without self-censorship, straight from experience and predilection. Besides, if they had stopped to contrive, they would never have created such a powerful, award winner of a personal statement.
|
||||||