Daniel Pemberton's "Voices"

Ears awaken to a monochrome train station, purgatory. Several sharp and composed tones guide the amplification of a choral roar. Voices in the form of an indistinguishable tide pulsate, forming a low pitch drone, which begins to pan from left to right growing in amplitude. A slow sighing whoosh follows the pattern making the voices recede to a dull hum. Low oscillating tones emerge hypnotically, following the same slow, steady pan. The remnant voices ebb and flow in presence and tempo. The ears are lost in a hazy labyrinth, left then right then left. Several metallic jetties arrive, grinding from low to high volume. Then it’s over. How could anyone escape Pemberton’s space, dreamed into ambience, built from loops and directional nuance?