Describing any song as a “pocket symphony,” especially one that clocks in at under three minutes, would be bold if you didn’t have the sonic goods to back up such a claim. And having listened to the dulcet tones and clever penmanship of “In Blossoming Flows,” I have to say that Kurt Juergens, the man behind The Broadest Blue, has a fair point.
Blending ambient and ornate delicacy with more intricate, classical tones, and no small amount of space and atmospherics, this is, for a change, exactly what you can describe as a soundscape—ever-changing, dynamic, rising and falling, an ebbing and flowing of ideas, a place where you can immerse yourself in sonic delights.
There are some strange and succulent sonic forces at work beyond those delicate, classical weaves I mentioned above. There is something of the musical hall about the song, perhaps something that you might label as Edwardian chamber-pop, if there is such a thing, and less in the sonics themselves but certainly in the overall vibe, something Pre-Raphealite about the mood. Not to mention it is fabulously floral, and bucolic and beautiful in the extreme.
Although the song starts in a more recognizable folk place, as strings waft through and heavenly harmonies join the delicate throng, as pianos pick out precise notes, the music seems to take flight, drifting skyward on the wind, and we seem to be taken further back into the past with every passing bar.
Modern artists always refer to their music as “original,” but I challenge anyone to stand their ground against just how unique “In Blossoming Flows” is.
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