reviews
Amber Asylum - The Natural Philosophy of Love
You may have heard these guys play on Neurosis' recent album. Those morose strings are a central part of this LP. While the band will instantly be compared to Rasputina for having three string players with percussive accompaniment, Amber Asylum is less about being a chamber-pop group than sculpting atmospheric, often delicate works with a neo-classical flavor. Natural Philosophy is mellow, and its dreaminess will soothe you while it imprints romantic images in your mind.
Bryan Reesman, Magnet Magazine
Amber Asylum - The Natural Philosophy of Love
[Amber Asylum's] haunting violin and vocals, with melancholy cello have been featured on past releases from Neurosis and Tribes of Neurot, mingling with and balancing against the intensity of the bands' music. As Amber Asylum, their talents - to no less evocative results - are placed in a much gentler context. On The Natural Philosophy of Love, they create a sound which infuses classical music traditions with modern elments of ambient/noise, which manifests in songs like nightmare lullabies. Sometimes the results are quite raw, as with the dirge-march of "Song of the Spider War." But the listener's mesmerism is fully enforced by such trakcs as "Jorinda and Joringal" and the hypnotic "Looking Glass" and its reprise, which sounds like a child's music box tune put to phantom strings and voice. The music of Amber Asylum is not purely ethereal, though enchantingly atmospheric, and neither is it goth, though consistently quite dark. It not only crosses these genre boundaries, but transcends them with the grace possessed by truly talented musicians.
Lara Haynes, Outburn Magazine
Amber Asylum - The Natural Philosophy of Love
The aural equivalent to charcoal sketches on concrete, or perhaps stick hieroglyphics drawn in sand. Stark cello, violin, percussion, guitar, and vocals sculpted from dark clouds (and soaring just as high) reside at the heart of this unique blend of string ensemble, borderline ethereal, and trace gothic elemtents. The music feels mysterious, crafted in a desolate place that harbours no hope, and yet the singular process of creation is paramount to existence. It is melancholic but not melodramatic; haunting but not lifeless (this music breathes); lovely but not comforting, skirting along the edge of darkness, peering in without indulging. All the songs emulate the moments of twilight, the conference between day and night, the blurred shadows of dusk and the impending onset of dreams.
JC Smith, Sideline Magazine, Issue 23