The Balustrade Ensemble
Comfort in the face of drowning
In the category of “words of the English language I love” is the word “balustrade.” It’s borrowed from French, yet has a richer, more potent effulgence in English.
In fact, I never give the word any consideration when using it in French. It has a disposable nature in its native environment, very common and uninteresting, even coming across as somewhat clumsy and boring. Whereas in English, it has this exquisite charm, an old world ostentatiousness, a verbal presence which shields it from overuse and assures that it be used in a context which will do justice to its stature.
So I was naturally drawn to The Balustrade Ensemble for obvious reasons, and I was pleased to discover that their music is just as enchanting and evocative to the ears. The Drowning Calm sounds exactly like the title. It’s a soothing, atmospheric piece of acoustic guitar plucking, surrounded by glimmering synths and bell tones, which in turn are wrapped within a muted, effervescent array of spooky bubbling, giving the tune an otherwordly, somewhat distressing undercurrent. Yet its subtle, almost indistinguishable eeriness is due to the song’s inviting and enchanting, soothing and glistening overtones, which comfort and carry you deep, like a enveloping dream of which you know you won’t wake from.
It’s frightening, but it’s bliss.













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