The album is awash in melancholy, a reflection of the cold, dark deep. The cover image and music bring to mind the scene in A.I. when David and Teddy become frozen and trapped at the bottom of the sea. With titles such as “A Year of Disappointments” and “Were It More Luminous”, the album seems a reflection of rumination. In “The Trouble With Dreams”, tape sounds squiggle across the sonic field, attempting to find bearing as the harbor chimes toll. Yet there is also solace in knowing that others are going through the same thing, struggling yet sinking. In another sense, to to fathom means to understand, and this album reaches for the soul with a consoling, empathetic hand. The music may be slow and sorrowful, but the eventual impression is one of comfort. – a closer listen
..another spellbinding set of melodic deconstructions entitled Fathoms. Fragments fashioned from piano, organ, & guitar are woven into a diaphanous textural fabric and then unfurled onto waves of warm, looping oscillations. Beautifully crafted and thoughtfully rendered, Gautreau offers the listener safe harbor at the edge of a deep and melancholic sea.
– stationary travels
Standout track “The Trouble With Dreams”
features waves of tone mingle with washes of antenna
signal squiggle, and even some vox mermana drift by as
well. Death by water never felt so good. Buoyant chimes
and gentle climes. Bathysphere organ and actual sized
bubbles rise on “Theory of Impossible Shapes.”
Gautreau is one busy being, but this is the project to help
him, or you unwind. Sink into the syrup synth sea.
-Thurston Hunger (KFJC)
The Prairie Lines Bill Bawden made music as Herzog, in the early days of MySpace- and his music was on constant rotation around Fort Spera...I was so happy to hear Prarie Lines- his sonic palate has matured and expanded, and I couldn't be happier. SS editions vaché
A glaze of frost envelops you as you open your eyes to a frozen blue sky reflecting in millions of icy mirrors around you.
Curled up in a cotton nest, protected from this transition of seasons by a coat of fragility and love, the cold can't seem to reach you. Separated from your own reality, the outside world is like a faded polaroid that already lived its life, clumsily looping in a reassuring kind of déjà vu filtered by forgotten memories.
An aural cesura skimming the borders of certainty. Dotflac