the seasons

the seasons

A few years back, when I was hiding out in Hollywood, I got to a point where it seemed as if the jig was up. I was staying in a friend’s place.

I was in a near-suicidal state of depression. Nothing was going according to plan. All the Hollywood bullshit (promised investors, etc.) had become painfully apparent. I was broke, living off a few sales ofHoneyBun kits to distributors, and borrowed money.

I had convinced the company that made HoneyBun Spanking Kits to put out a massage kit, with the idea of breaking out of the adult novelty industry and onto the shelf next to Dirty Girl Soapwhere the money was.

They wanted to make a soft-core massage video to go with the oil. I said that was too tacky for HoneyBun. I proposed a relaxation cd. They agreed.

Buy the seasons on bandcamp.

So I did what I have done so many times: I went down below to where the music is. Whatever storms rage above the surface cannot touch me down there.

I can only assume other artists know of which I speak, or anyone who has perhaps submerged him/herself in meditation, or prayer, or focused labor, which, now that I think about it, seem to be the main components of my creative process.

In the time that followed, about three weeks, I composed four songs. When I came out, these are the songs that had flowed through, each about fifteen minutes long:

  1. Summer of ’68
  2. Autumnal Sun
  3. Winter Blue
  4. Isle of Islay Revisited

Isle of Islay Revisited is the only song I have ever done composed entirely from samples: gongs, chimes, birds, water, guitar, and so on. The title refers to an incredibly sweet and sad ballad by Donovan, on his album Gift From a Flower To A Garden, released in 1968. I have since written a piece to replace it, “The Forever Spring.”

I  later reworked the first three songs, taking them from the pastels of the original versions into more technicolor realms.

Here are some excerpts of reviews from various music blogs.

from Bullz-Eye Magazine:

How exactly to peg Knox Bronson? Perhaps we shouldn’t and just let the music speak for itself. On this album of four extended pieces, Bronson mixes jazz-like passages with electronica, sometimes almost pushing it into a trance realm, but not quite. It’s too sophisticated for that sort of programming, and that’s definitely a plus. What it is definitely is languid and spatial, with “Summer of ‘68” and “Autumnal Sun” being completely wondrous works of music.

from Fame magazine:

I reviewed Knox Bronson’s Pop Down the Years a little while back (here) and Seasons has followed with gratifying swiftness but also with an almost shockingly rapid maturation. Completely instrumental in a slow languid pace that urges the listener to relax and luxuriate, where Pop was quirky, interesting, and prog-oriented, Seasons is chambery in the Impressionist sense with tantalizing echoes of Eno (Summer of ’68 uses the intriguing slow hooning of Discreet Music), Peter Baumann (ca Transharmonic Nights), Peter Michael Hamel, a tranked-out Terry Riley, and the more sensual of the electronicists.Seasons is chambery in the Impressionist sense with tantalizing echoes of Eno (Summer of ‘68 uses the intriguing slow hooning of Discreet Music), Peter Baumann (ca Transharmonic Nights), Peter Michael Hamel, a tranked-out Terry Riley, and the more sensual of the electronicists.

The disc contains just four long songs for an hour’s submersion in intelligent, slow, spare processionals and ambiences. Michael Hoenig peeks out occasionally from Autumnal Sun, though the estimable German never wrote like Bronson does, slowly shifting in sound fields, coloration, and environmental palette. The attention to perfection here is bracing, resulting in a piece of spacey furniture music, high art wanting for nothing, content to take its time in seeping through the speakers and into cerebellums. Mix the hedonism of the Ibiza crowd with the seriousness of old Brit/Kraut ventures, then add a sprinkling of the silently uncanny ideas of Vidna Obmana, and you have a starting point.

Despite the fact that the quartet of songs was composed during a dark period in the writer’s life, every minute of Seasons sparkles. Even the moody segments have a shine and glow lifting them above the melancholy, indicative of the redemption art brings. The entire enterprise is pensive but never existentialist, remarkably zen in many ways, unattached to judgementalism, formula, and tradition. A goodly portion of the entirety is Debussy-esque, borrowing heavily from tone poem concepts for heady textures and gestures nailing down authenticity in genteel certainties alongside intriguing ambiguity. Pore over the progressive, electronica, and ambient catalogues as you will, you’re not likely to find very many releases to stand with this one.

from THE BLARG:

Knox Bronson “The Seasons” – A beautiful and brilliantly mastered four-track instrumental work that bridges the gap between the orchestral and symphonic, and the subtle digital realm of acts like Plastikman. Each track (coming in around the fifteen-minute mark) represents a different season, and Bronson has somehow managed to rip apart summer, fall, winter and spring, and put them back together in the form of a song. One of the best of this batch.

from Skopemag.com:

Mix electronic, classical, ambience and pop and you have the new, innovative piece by Knox Bronson in The Seasons.  Even adding that symphony orchestra element to the background, Bronson takes you on a hypnotic trip.  …  The album starts with “Summer of ‘68” and ends with “The Forever Spring” taking the listener on a magical journey.  Bronson offers a whimsical quality along with a strong spiritual well-being that resonates throughout the composition.  Each song signifies not just the spirit of the seasons, but also the spirit of Bronson inside.

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