Good music is either the easiest or the hardest thing to describe, it is only average music which requires cliche. Great music even makes you resort to non-musical references to help you make sense of what is going on. And Ruheman makes great music. It is the sound of space being filled with an encroaching sonic presence. It is the slow drift from order towards chaos. It is the arc of construction and decay. It is a meandering flow between the ambient and the abrasive. It is sound of opposites attracting. And it does all of that without drawing more than the slightest sonic brushstrokes across the blank musical canvas.

Gentle piano chords and shimmering electronica are drawn from the ether and almost immediately they begin to become unstable, as if the notes and sounds, once added to the music are allowed to wander of their own volition, sometimes repetitious and recurring, sometimes fractured and off-kilter, sometimes drifting away at unexpected tangents to the main musical flow.

And the result is a sort of beautiful chaos, a shifting of sonic state from deft and delicate neo-classical grace into chiming confusion as the centre seems to break and release the sounds out into the universe.

What does it all mean? Nothing. Everything. Anything you want it to. 

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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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