IN Tune With The Infinite Mind

God Is an Astronaut is an Irish post-rock band from the County Wicklow, formed in 2002 by Niels and Torsten Kinsella. Their style employs elements of electronic music, krautrock, and space rock, reminiscent of Tangerine Dream.

At a time of great uncertainty, it helps to surround yourself with those things you trust, and so marks the timely return of the reliably brilliant Nick Mulvey. His standout debut album, First Mind, in 2015 was the introduction of an artist who shirked the conventional and side-stepped the expected. It was a record of opposing shades, all leftfield rhythms, and harnessing an exquisitely natural guitarist doing extraordinary things, painting unique colours across a very moreish collection of songs. It was quite peerless, and translated to the stage alongside a fine collection of talented players that formed his band.

At a time of great uncertainty, it helps to surround yourself with those things you trust, and so marks the timely return of the reliably brilliant Nick Mulvey. His standout debut album, First Mind, in 2015 was the introduction of an artist who shirked the conventional and side-stepped the expected. It was a record of opposing shades, all leftfield rhythms, and harnessing an exquisitely natural guitarist doing extraordinary things, painting unique colours across a very moreish collection of songs. It was quite peerless, and translated to the stage alongside a fine collection of talented players that formed his band.

It is commonly said that the cello is the music instrument closest to the human voice. Its unique sound and timbre have a mellow tone which reminds us of our own singing. Besides that, the cello covers almost all of the player’s body when it is used for playing. There is a symbiosis between the cello and its player which makes it easy to think of the cello as of another human being.

It was a musical cocktail born in a marketing meeting: Two parts easy listening, one part jazz, a healthy dollop of conga drums, a sprinkling of bird calls, and a pinch of textless choir. Serve garnished with an alluring woman on the album jacket for best results. Liberty Records co-founder Si Waronker called it Exotica; the soundtrack for a mythical air conditioned Eden, packaged for mid-century, tiki torch-wielding armchair safariers. In the five years after Exotica—Martin Denny’s 1957 landmark Liberty debut—arrived, hundreds of other ethnographic forgeries washed up in record racks all over the U.S., bearing titles like Sophisticated Savage, Sacred Idol, Chant of the Jungle, Polynesian Paradise, Exotic Paradise, Taboo, Primitiva, Forbidden Island, Afrodesia, Hypnotique, Percussion Exotique, and a barrel’s worth of other portmanteaus. “All of those ica and itiva endings I came up with because I thought I was being cute,” Waronker said. “And I don’t know why, but nobody got wise.”

It was a musical cocktail born in a marketing meeting: Two parts easy listening, one part jazz, a healthy dollop of conga drums, a sprinkling of bird calls, and a pinch of textless choir. Serve garnished with an alluring woman on the album jacket for best results. Liberty Records co-founder Si Waronker called it Exotica; the soundtrack for a mythical air conditioned Eden, packaged for mid-century, tiki torch-wielding armchair safariers. In the five years after Exotica—Martin Denny’s 1957 landmark Liberty debut—arrived, hundreds of other ethnographic forgeries washed up in record racks all over the U.S., bearing titles like Sophisticated Savage, Sacred Idol, Chant of the Jungle, Polynesian Paradise, Exotic Paradise, Taboo, Primitiva, Forbidden Island, Afrodesia, Hypnotique, Percussion Exotique, and a barrel’s worth of other portmanteaus. “All of those ica and itiva endings I came up with because I thought I was being cute,” Waronker said. “And I don’t know why, but nobody got wise.”