a0735325200_16In a world where the norm is a high gloss production, studio gimmickry, auto-tuned, over dubbed, over layered, over baked, over the top approach towards recording music, it takes a brave man to take the total opposite approach. Memories is music in the raw, the sound of the very soul being moulded into lo-fi, minimalist guitar and vocal deliveries, and then often the sound only of the essence of that soul rather than anything more tangible.

And intangible is the word as these songs drift rather than adhere to a more tethered structure, are ambient rather than built of substance, are fashioned around space rather than inhabiting that space themselves. Like the memories of the title, these are fleeting glances into an artist’s hopes and dreams, are recollections and experiences, the unstated wisdoms learned the hard way that we all carry with us.

I always think that people are a collection of stories and our personalities and outlook on life is the result of collecting them. Here the stories are plaintive and wistful, yet hinting at optimism and growth. Memories is not so much the window into Nathan Leaman’s soul, more the headphone jack socket.

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Musician, scribbler, historian, gnostic, seeker of enlightenment, asker of the wrong questions, delver into the lost archives, fugitive from the law of averages, blogger, quantum spanner, left footed traveller, music journalist, zenarchist, freelance writer, reviewer and gemini. People have woken up to worse.

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