PETER PHIPPEN
Shadows of Dawn
(p) (c) 2006 Canyon Records
11tks/53mins

A sound of a flute
Which wafted from the endlessness
Will fade into infinite mind
Just washing it with its inherent fineness…

A sound of a flute. So simple and natural. Reaching the innermost of your heart. Making you cry and laugh, enjoy and grieve. The sound which can express the inmost feelings: a yearning of a heart, an ardour of a passion and a chilling sorrow of a parting. In private with this music you can come back to the past, to the place where you felt nice and where you were loved, or just stay there to be in private with yourself, all of a sudden, without fuss and hurry to feel your heartbeat and your most secret wishes.

“Shadows of Dawn” is a masterpiece. Peter Phippen in his music makes use of a wide variety of flutes. These are an Edo period shakuhachi, and a transverse bamboo flute, and an Anasazi flute, and a Native American flute, and a contemporary shakuhachi, and a bone whistle. Peter Phippen is a heaven-born flutist. His flutes are so precise in reproducing the finest nuances of human emotions. And accompanying instruments such as a synthesizer, different kinds of drums, just accentuate a strident sounding of flutes.

A tremendous treasure is hidden in these plain primeval sounds. There is a boundless world of emotional experience. Meditative tunes of flutes put thoughts in order and clear up consciousness. Suddenly you begin to realize that all your troubles and problems are in actual fact petty and strained. And moreover Peter Phippen’s music is full of love. And just now and then an unbearable anguish and a bitterness of parting shine through his compositions. The “Shadows of Dawn” album is dedicated to Anita Alice, Peter Phippen’s mother who passed away two years ago. The musician splashes out his inexhaustible love and tenderness to her by means of his music…

What else can be added to this? This brilliant album released by Canyon Records will adorn a collection of any music lover. This is a kind of music without which our world would be much more insipid.

Among forgetfulness and fuss
Without fail there comes the time for us
To feel pulsation of the life
The music hides inside…

Serge Kozlovsky
http://sergekozlovsky.com

P.S. Translated by Tatyana L. Permyakova.