The second album release from London's singer songwriter Windmill sees his themes of alienation and displacement launched into cold, dark space to explore the empty stratosphere that engulfs our insignificant little blue planet.
Windmill, known to his bloods as Mathew Thomas Dillon, has a peculiarly characteristic voice. Cartoon-like yet on the verge of tears, it's a shot away from Wayne Coyne or Bright Eyes. The attraction is its weakness and trembling insecurity.
Each song is unassumingly simple and built firmly around the piano - an excellent instrument to convey intimate sadness and isolation (so long as you stay clear of Elton John and that sonofabitch Chris Martin). Dillon often sings in unison with a deliberately off key backing ensemble sounding like a sing-a-long in a school play. A few standout tracks such as 'Sony Metropolis Stars', 'Big Boom' and my favourite 'Photo Hemispheres' decorate the album with uplifting hymns.
One of the most thoughtful lines comes from 'Imax Raceway':
"We want our parents to live for always / they won't, they don't want us to be sad"(pronounced 'seead' by Dillon in his pseudo American accent) These melancholy truisms remind me of the bite-sized philosophies of The Flaming Lips or Mercury Rev. In a sense, we define our lives by these brief reflections, but unlike the grand, collective unity behind The Flaming Lips, Dillon keeps us at a distance. His detachment is key to his creative individuality.
Epcot Starfields, designed around a childhood trip to EPCOT in Florida, is a beacon of hope. Hope that a future existence will have meaning - not just made up of brand names or technological faff - and that his unique voice will be heard a million light years away. There's a lot to like about Windmill. Scared, anxious, lost and disillusioned, he's one of us:
"I find it compelling that even when armed with the knowledge of our mortality, people's ideas are limitless"(© Copyright 2009 Brendan Morgan)
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