- I remember the first time I really felt a connection with Kyle Bobby Dunn's music. It was the summer of 2012 and I spent one morning listening to Bring Me The Head Of Kyle Bobby Dunn on small, tinny Dell computer speakers. I'd had the album a while and listened to it a few times, but there was something about this morning in particular, the early light filtering in with the sounds of the street outside, that made the music grow over the course of two hours. It became something far more powerful than anything you'd expect to hear coming from such small speakers. By the end, the beautiful drones felt like a natural part of the room, as if they'd always been there and always would be.
Two years later, Dunn has landed on Students Of Decay with another epic release. The lavish format of a triple-LP isn't exactly common on independent labels, but given the indulgent rock bombast of the title, it's perhaps no less than we ought to expect. And The Infinite Sadness is a classic Dunn-ism, poking fun at the self-seriousness of so much ambient music while also aptly describing the emotional content of his own work. (I'm sure there's a joke about the length of the album in there, too)
The album is unlikely to shock anyone familiar with Dunn's previous output. From the off, it's full of delicate musical figures turning slowly in a beautiful light. But even now, over a dozen records into his career, Dunn can still be surprising—the laughter of children that ripples through the end of the opening track always sends shivers up my spine. The classical influence is perhaps clearer here than ever before, sometimes sounding like a string section in a light mist. Arvo Part and Richard Skelton come to mind, but this is quieter still. It seems like no one else can make such gentle use of two hours. Dunn's music continues to mature with every release, growing more patient and, in the case of this album particularly, more expressive.
There's no feeling quite like being deep in a track, feeling supremely calm and reflective, only to find out you're listening to something called "Boring Foothills Of Foot Fetishville" or "Variation On A Theme By St. Dipshit." The music is entirely sincere but the way it's presented rarely is, and Dunn makes himself the butt of every joke. He may claim to be miserable, but it's hard to shake the feeling that he doth protest too much. And The Infinite Sadness is, in its own peculiar way, some joyous shit.
01. Ouverture de Peter Hodge Transport
02. An Excrement Suite (For Voices Lost Again)
03. Boring Foothills Of Foot Fetishville
04. Variations On A Theme By St-Dipshit
05. Rue de Guy-Mathieu
06. Saison Triste On Lac Of Baies
07. Mon Retard
08. Confessions Of The Mildly Miserable
09. La Failure et La Chance
10. Where Circles Never Become Circles
11. Duck Faced Fantasy
12. Macleod (And The Victims Of Deception)
13. Spem In Alium & Her Unable
14. Ghostkeeping Verses I-IV
15. Powers Of None
16. The Same (Drunk In Quebec & In Love Club Remix)
17. Ontop Of Timeless Hour
18. Those Satisfactions Are Permanent
19. And The Day Is Dunn (And I Can Only Think Of You)