Francis Harris - Minutes Of Sleep

HEAD TILTING, EYES PALING, STARS SENT ADRIFT

There's a perplexing sense of ease on Minutes Of Sleep. Despite being overtly sterile, without flair or iridescence, Francis Harris' ruminative beat loops strike a righteous balance between calming somnolence and the vexed nighttime it penetrates. Electronica that relies on nocturnal austerity rarely manages to avoid the growing tension darkness pervades. Most welcome it with open arms. However, apart from the 14-minute Microsound turned Sound Collage closer, nothing Harris materializes relishes in discomfort. These songs, like 'Lean Back' and 'What She Had,' pacify with the cold press of a blanket. Paralyzed not with fright but relief. An accomplishment given the barren nature of Minutes Of Sleep, one that parallels dread without ever introducing the listener to such events.

That is, of course, excluding the pair of 'Dangerdream's.' The former, track two, is little more than a hint of things to come. Desultory and frigid, with a fascinating glimmer of droning Jazz, the total lack of percussion really accentuates this bottomless pit. Falling, like a feather, past restless souls reminiscing over days of yore. Despite bearing some resemblance past the name, the 14-minute 'Dangerdream' treads precariously around subordinate alarm clock glitches, infrequent radio static, and indecipherable vocal samples from a television left broadcasting to no-one. Though not for everyone, especially due to the prevalence of Microhouse elsewhere, 'Dangerdream' is a masterclass in Sound Collage. One that's delicate and crisp, dealing with the minutiae surrounding an ambling night of sleep.

However, nothing tops 'You Can Always Leave,' the centerpiece of Minutes Of Sleep. It's the moment REM sleep gives way to dreams, welcoming a fairytale charm to cold, repetitive motion. This, due entirely to Gry Bagøien's presence. Her frail, Scandinavian vocals bear a striking resemblance to Karin Dreijer of The Knife, tip-toeing around excitable rhythmic imbalance with a child's imagination. This is the dream you long for, 'Dangerdream's' the one you run from. While Harris' style is about as unique as one can get within Microhouse, hints of other artists emerge occasionally. The incomprehensibly-distant vocals on 'Blues News' recalls Andy Stott's most sterile Ambient interludes, while 'Me To Drift's' sleek, submerged guitars and janky piano work draw comparisons to Nicolas Jaar's Space Is Only Noise era. Though entertainment rarely reaches beyond the peripheral of slumber, Minutes Of Sleep's sheer, tactile stupor never fails to fascinate in its restraint.