That hovering dust-cloud of strings, which Levi referred to as "like a beehive" in her and Under the Skin director Jonathan Glazer's recent Pitchfork interview,
pops up repeatedly throughout the score with minor additions and tweaks
representing the journey of Johansson's character: in "Meat to Maths",
there are clanging bell-like sounds behind it, while in "Mirror to
Vortex" it's half-submerged in the amplified sound of its own echo. In
the context of the film, these additions feel like the messiness of
lived experience muddying Johansson's template, the imprint of the lives
she begins to grapple with as her time on Earth extends. The hollow
knock of a single drum, like a single dragging foot, is another
repeating theme, giving the score a reiterative, hesitant quality.
Inasmuch as you can be invited into Johansson's character's head in Under the Skin,
the music does the heavy lifting. The score has the feel of a thought
process, albeit one conducted by a being you have no genetic relation
to. pitchfork.com ...
The sound of The Little Match Girl boasts both the group’s
firm grasp on the classical composing of music and a duo who wants to
push “music” beyond any category in which it is currently comfortable.
The title track is their sonic reimagining of the classic Hans Christian
Andersen tale of finding hope only in death and the rest of the album
is equally high-minded, telling a profoundly existential, and often
somber, tale with each of the 9 tracks. But while each track stands
alone as a concise narrative, when strung together, as an album they
would seem to serve as a broader commentary on a single theme, much like
Baudelaire’s Paris Spleen. And like Paris Spleen,
that theme would seem to be the beauty that can be found in the
wretchedness of the world by those who best understand the circumstances
of humanity... philthymag ...
'To Sleep’ is just a beautiful song, a carefully-crafted piece of
moving electronica and euphoric guitar drifts which is mesmerising; it’s
a suitably pastoral accompaniment to Conway’s poetry, which comes and
goes like waves onto the shore. Entrancing and enchanting – you get the
idea. ‘Looks Like’ is delivered in warped waltz time and, with its
simple melodic synth pad swells could be a Vince Clarke composition were
it not for the occasional intrusion of rippling guitar sounds.
‘Sometime’ is dark and edgy, a throbbing bass pulse and a ratchety sound
culled straight from Wire’s ‘Advantage In Height’ offset by a pleasant
strummed melody and a divine layered chorus of Conway’s voice(s). ‘One
Of Our Girls Has Gone Missing’, released as a single, concludes the
cassette and vinyl editions, while the CD includes the warped cover of
Canned Heat’s ‘Time Was’, also released as a single... Documentary Road ...
