Durham based Foster Neville releases another album called “The Edge of Destruction” - formerly available on cassette from Bibliotapes - and it provides 12 tracks of music to make your mind drift into a land of mannered melancholy.
The album is full of heavily processed symbolism running at pace best described as casual as if forever destined to go with the flow rather than sail in any particular direction. As is the way of such musical endeavours, an album like this sort of happens to your ears in its quasi New Age way with nothing to really hook on to but plenty to keep you company as your thoughts drift down some river on the way to Babylon (or, perhaps, Rothesay). The songs themselves start and fade out too with no apparent intent to join the dots. I’m sure that would be more important in a more conventional musical extravaganza but perhaps not really a core requirement of these particular synthetic meanderings. The concept, methinks, is to to keep your mind company rather than to entertain or divert with the more stylistically industrial moments serving only to further strengthen the synergy between the man and the ghost in the machine.
What does it all mean? Damned if I know. I just work here.