“I once spent a couple of hours in a floatation tank in south London. Despite the play of peach and crimson coloured light through the tank's plastic shell and the warmth of the saline water it was an unsettling experience. Similarly, on first hearing, this suite of music appears to exude an immersive blissfulness, a percolating jacuzzi like warmth. Yet repeated listening reveals that it is also as cold and slowly shifting as an ice floe. The Colour of Longing then is a music of doubleness; expansive yet completely solitudinous and hermetic. There is a panoramic yearning, a pre-occupation with landscape and natural life; the titles refer to sea, sky, animals, flight and space. But despite this pre-occupation with the bucolic and the cosmic the music also evokes the vastness of cityscapes whether they be the utopias and dystopias of Hollywood sci-fi Metropolises or glass stalagmites called The Shard.
Materially the music has cycles and repetitions suggestive of Suzanne Ciani and Systems composers like Steve Reich and John Adams or even Phaedra and Rubicon era Tangerine Dream. It is also ineffable and poignantly vaporous and one can hear traces of rave bliss, Eno and composers of the New Age.
A sense of scale and a sublime melancholic bleakness are communicated because Mücha's voice is apparitional. It is a distant and peripheral presence; barely more than a murmur or a sigh, a reverberated flicker. Mücha's voice is most dominant in the diaphanous madrigal In That So Often Distant. I googled this title because it seemed like a fragment from another text but all I found were links to sites that were dedicated to relationship counselling, specifically how to cope with and maintain long distance relationships. This seemed apposite.
The Colour of Longing treads the delicate path between ecstasy and nausea; the exhilarating giddy shudder of nervous excitement, adrenalin and fear. The tingle in the spine, the blossoming of goosebumps, the shiver that clarity sometimes induces.” Richard Thomas