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UncutHere, his luxurious voice, weathered and warm, sits atop intuitive improvations from the likes of Christian Fennesz and Evan Parker. [Nov 2009, p.106]
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Manafon is a quiet yet forceful stunner, a recording that, if heard, is literally unforgettable.
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However central Sylvian’s bleak commentary, the weight and suggestiveness of this record gives it a sense of unpredictability, possibility, almost an openness beyond itself. It’s absolutely superb.
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Sylvian's subjects are life's loners and losers, and he regards them with a wry detachment and acute sympathy that is echoed by his collaborators. The effect in the album's 11-minute centrepiece, The Greatest Living Englishman, is devastating.
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MojoInitially baffling, Manafon richly replays further decktime. [Oct 2009, p.96]
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Sylvian is front-and-center on every song, which is good because he provides the only rhythmic and melodic stability, as the instrumentals dart and scratch and feedback around him.
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Fans of David Sylvian will doubtless appreciate the elegant compositions and Sylvian's self-indulgent but soulful insights, but there is little to entertain the casual listener who may be better off back cataloguing Tom Waits and Nick Drake and realizing that they are not the same thing.
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Think Scott Walker punching a side of beef, and know that here's another who's wandered off the path of teen pop success to find a world that's far more interesting (if far from easy listening).
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Its spaces of hollow inaction are far too big, and the concessions it expects of its audience far too large for so little payoff.
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While no one could accuse Sylvian of playing it safe, the exercises that make up Manafon are neither experimental nor aesthetically pleasing enough for me to recommend this album.
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