NLF3 PINK RENAISSANCE
PROHIBITED RECORDS
Originally printed in Now Then Magazine Issue 79 in October 14
Billed as a soundtrack album, upon hearing I instantly knew what they meant. Pink Renaissance is a storyboard of sound. NLF3 return onto the scene with a polar opposite personality. After producing Beast Me in 2011, this next epoch swiftly ditches the doom and gloom and replaces it with slinky and beautifully jilted pinpoints of melody. Crisp and warm instruments mix expertly with layers of experimental electronica without breaking into a sweat. Drama unfolds, then the full flavour of the album is delivered on the tip of the spoon. Moody yet bright, off we go into a dreamy world of awkward rhythmic enjoyment.
Giving myself a moment to picture the images which this music may accompany, I am suddenly surrounded by dancing paper cut-out people, moving on their split pin limbs in cartoon strangeness. An epic transportation from my sofa, but it doesn’t last long. I find myself seeing the band perform. The instruments begin to personify the musicians and become independent from the sound. Round the back of some plaza, in a dusty ally reserved for those in the know, a small bar sits with two buzzing neon lights on the door. This is where I picture the music coming from, enchanting those wise enough to avoid the herd and the extravagance behind the golden curtain.
With feels likened to those of Pink Floyd and related period acid folk woven through bars of jazzy frills and choral mists, the album covers all bases but doesn’t speed around the circuit. On a leisurely stroll, we pass light and dark elements of life, but from the perspective of a happy ghost revisiting much loved memories.
Rowan Blair Colver
PROHIBITED RECORDS
Originally printed in Now Then Magazine Issue 79 in October 14
Billed as a soundtrack album, upon hearing I instantly knew what they meant. Pink Renaissance is a storyboard of sound. NLF3 return onto the scene with a polar opposite personality. After producing Beast Me in 2011, this next epoch swiftly ditches the doom and gloom and replaces it with slinky and beautifully jilted pinpoints of melody. Crisp and warm instruments mix expertly with layers of experimental electronica without breaking into a sweat. Drama unfolds, then the full flavour of the album is delivered on the tip of the spoon. Moody yet bright, off we go into a dreamy world of awkward rhythmic enjoyment.
Giving myself a moment to picture the images which this music may accompany, I am suddenly surrounded by dancing paper cut-out people, moving on their split pin limbs in cartoon strangeness. An epic transportation from my sofa, but it doesn’t last long. I find myself seeing the band perform. The instruments begin to personify the musicians and become independent from the sound. Round the back of some plaza, in a dusty ally reserved for those in the know, a small bar sits with two buzzing neon lights on the door. This is where I picture the music coming from, enchanting those wise enough to avoid the herd and the extravagance behind the golden curtain.
With feels likened to those of Pink Floyd and related period acid folk woven through bars of jazzy frills and choral mists, the album covers all bases but doesn’t speed around the circuit. On a leisurely stroll, we pass light and dark elements of life, but from the perspective of a happy ghost revisiting much loved memories.
Rowan Blair Colver
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