Sarah Davachi is an exceedingly clever and reflective artist. The Canadian composer’s works for electronic and analogue pieces all seem to be characterised by a perfection. And even when this is not the case, her piano, organ and synth works seem like flawless pearls. Milky shimmering pearls. All the more irritating that live concerts felt different – not necessarily rougher, but more unpolished. For »Antiphonals«, the 17th release in just nine years, she tries to absorb this contrast, this disparity of experience. With an academic like Davachi, the description of the structure then sounds appropriately scientific: »It’s a minimalist music that deals with the vertical experience of textures as well as the stretching of intervallic progressions across the horizontal range.« But what does that actually mean? What ultimately comes across? The use of the Mellotron in particular – something like the first sampler in history – adds a welcome dose of dust, but also psychedelia. A piece like the opener »Chorus Scene« sounds accordingly baroque and rather like Bach, but at the same time also new and approachable – up-to-date. Away from all scientificity and the avant-gardism that still sets the tone, »Antiphonals« is a very sensual album. That in parts feels rather than sounds. A strange experience – but a very beautiful one.