exceptional albumís inner sleeve, a sixties bypass bisects a
prehistoric earthwork, and the folklorist Ronald Hutton
discusses seasonal rites. Within, a set of tuneful, tonal,
slices of clean and cold electronica hums with post-war
optimism, warped by echoes of the transcendentally bland
music that underscored Seventies architectsí pitches for
concrete car parks. The comforting irony cloud, that
shadowed earlier Ghost Box label experiments in emotionally
manipulative nostalgia, has evaporated.
Without anything so prescriptive as lyrics, The Advisory
Circle offers a disarmingly sincere, pellucidly beautiful,
and hauntingly disorientating exploration of your
civilisationís problematic relationship with the landscapes
of its past.