Antonymes just received a good review for ‘The Licence To Interpret Dreams’ over at The Silent Ballet:

Antonymes began his public career in 2008, making appearances on several compilations before releasing the mini-album/book Beauty Becomes the Enemy of the Future in 2010. Praised by critics for its subtlety and depth, including a favorable review on this site, the album marked Antonymes as an artist to watch. At that time, very little information about the artist was available, which seemed to suit the mood of the music just fine. With Antonymes’ debut full-length, The Licence To Interpret Dreams, we now know a bit more about the project, though the music continues to speak for itself. The primary artist behind the moniker is Ian Hazeldine, a graphic designer, photographer, and musician from Wales, but the project also includes contributions from various notables who flesh out the already rich soundscapes.

The Licence To Interpret Dreams is a captivating yet lethargic album, slowly layering simple parts as a means of carrying the listener along, creating a hazy and ambiguous sense of place, dreamlike in its contours. “A Fragile Acceptance” opens the album, and is as characterized by its silences as by its sounds. Sustained chords gradually creep up against the piano droplets, and the strings slowly build until only the slow drone of chord changes is left. Rich with imagery from the song titles and the striking album art, Antonymes’ work still manages to convey a sense of vagueness and ambiguity, making the references to dreams carry more weight. A dreamlike logic, or better, perhaps, a counterlogic, guides the trajectory of the album. Interpretation is always an act of translation, and is never accurate, as each subject position will receive the data in a different context. Of course, the idea of one having a license to interpret dreams is a bit audacious, and on some level not too far removed from the critic passing judgment on a work of art. Hazeldine is certainly a thoughtful craftsman, and he seems to realize that his work is best received when it is given room to breathe, when its elements are not closed to interpretation. Some records can feel claustrophobic with ornamentation, or formless enough to create anxiety. Antonymes is spacious and patient, moody yet often reassuring and relaxing.

With an emphasis on piano and strings, along with swirling textures providing a backdrop (and at times even steering), Antonymes is at his most beautiful and coherent yet. Though it isn’t flawless, The Licence to Interpret Dreams is a majestic testament to a talent that is fully realized. Warm tones, quaint noise, and feedback play as important a role as the piano and strings. The choice of “Endlessly” as a single is an interesting one, if only because it is so simple. So austere and slow moving, yet as beautiful as any song on the album, and in this sense an appropriate representative. “Doubt,” featuring words from the English music journalist Paul Morley read by Jan Van Den Broek (of June 11), is a bit of a strange diversion; it struck me at first as one of the missteps of the album. Though I’ve come to appreciate the piece on its own, initially it was a distraction from the arc of the album, which is otherwise instrumental (aside from one other, very brief, vocal sample). The vocals add to the surreal quality of the record, but are initially too jarring for my taste when taken as a consistent part of a whole. Taken individually, however, the way in which the vocals are cut up, Van Den Broek’s accented English, and the unfolding meaning of the lines combined with the piano melody does make for a powerful and moving track.

In addition to Morley and Van Den Broek, Hazeldine has some distinguished guests helping him out on this release. German electronic music composer Christoph Berg (Field Rotation) contributes to several tracks and was a guiding influence on the release as a whole. String arrangements, primarily for cello, were provided by James Banburry. Hazeldine’s work is distinct, yet the parts remain hazy in one’s memory, dreamlike. The influences of his collaborators help fully realize his vision, but without compromising its identity as Antonymes. Knowing that Hazeldine also works in visual arts, it’s difficult not to speculate as to the influence that such practices bear upon his aural achievements. Certainly the packaging of this releases demonstrates a careful eye for detail and an appreciation for extramusical symbolism, and the music itself often demonstrates the restraint and contrasts of the artwork, the textures combining in ways that could be called “painterly” without too much of a stretch.

The album closes with the somewhat ominous “On Arrival at the Strange Museum,” which relies on the foreboding sound of a low metallic banging to drive the song forward, as if the microphone was placed within an industrial-sized garbage can being thumped by a mallet. It is one of the tracks that seems to be composed for a film scene, one whose imagery is augmented positively by its title. It shouldn’t come as a surprise then to learn that Hazeldine also makes short films, one of which can be seen here (set to the track “Endlessly”).

It’s hard to say what Antonymes is—an appropriate response to a project whose name translates to against-a-name. The piano often plays a prominent role, but it is just as prone to fade into the background. The playing is simple, sparse, quite different from the more virtuosic playing of piano-centric records in recent years by the likes of Hauschka, Nils Frahm, Adrian Klumpes, and so on. Without prominent percussive elements, the music is driven forward by the waves of sustained tones and occasionally the slow plodding rhythm of the piano. It’s not difficult to see why one would try to classify Antonymes as ambient music; Licence does seem to live up to Eno’s original definition of music that can be “actively listened to with attention or as easily ignored, depending on the choice of the listener.” Still, that label doesn’t quite fit either, in so far as the minimalism at work here masks the emotional and spatial narrative of each track. Though it works as background music, such misses the point; Antonymes needs an attentive listener. The compositions seem designed to engulf the listener, to transport them to another place, or at least, to carry them along on the journey. This requires an abandonment that ambient music doesn’t necessarily require. It’s not quite neo-classical or “modern composition” either, since much of the album doesn’t seem to be scored, and relies more on subtlety of sound sculpting than technique. Some of its palette is shared with those genres, but one gets the impression that Antonymes is more about tinkering with the sound and building a world of its own than with composition in a classical sense. But then again, it’s fitting that an artist called “antonymes” would resist categories.