In a world where we are constantly bombarded with information and distractions, what really matters to us? In his latest album, Filter, Grice explores the social filters determining how we relate – or fail to relate – with each other, the algorithms that select and manipulate the information we are fed, and the delicate balance of natural filters protecting our planet. The music offers a space for reflection, an opportunity to view the world from different perspectives and decide our priorities; in Grice’s words, “There is beauty all around us, filter out the noise”.
Grice’s existing output marks him as a musician who is willing to push the boundaries of genre, and Filter takes him even further along this path, offering a rich but cohesive diversity including art rock, folk and avant garde experimentalism. On this album he plays guitars, bass, drums, Mellotron and keys, and provides hauntingly expressive vocals. His stunningly beautiful and innovative sonic landscapes are augmented by the atmospheric keyboards of Richard Barbieri, (Japan, Porcupine Tree), trumpet from Luca Calabrese, BJ Cole on pedal steel guitar, drums and percussion from Robert Brian and Hossam Ramzy and Al Swainger providing electronic and acoustic bass. Eliza Carew (cello), Theo Travis (duduk), avant-garde guitarist David Torn and Steve Jansen (felted piano and keys) make memorable guest appearances, and a range of filters (appropriately) are used selectively to modify and sculpt the soundscapes. In collaboration with composer and sound engineer Duncan Chave, Grice achieves a precision of production that sets each carefully chosen tone colour into clear relief.
On the opening and title track, Filter, Grice’s vocals deliver a simple melody which pulses with a quiet defiance;
Though my eyes may be open
Though my soul may be shaken
I stand
Keyboards, trumpet, pedal steel and drums create a ghostly collage of abstract sonic fragments that loom out of the mist, interweave and dissolve like half-forgotten dreams. Steve Binghams’s violin closes the track like the last twittering of birdsong before the night closes in.
Canticle (Fayre) pays nostalgic homage to Simon and Garfunkel’s iconic Scarborough Fair, whose influence can be heard in the gently chiming acoustic guitar patterns. Melodic and harmonic echoes of the original song blend seamlessly into the texture like memories of a perfect summer day. This idyllic pastoral interlude fades out all too soon, leading to Love Me Out, which Grice describes as “A swansong about the pain of walking away from love”. Its inspiration was the “overview effect” experienced by astronauts gazing down on Earth, “witnessing the fragility of the atmosphere, the ultimate filter that preserves life”. Barbieri’s keyboards open with a series of chords in a weightlessly drifting 5/4 metre. As Grice’s dreamy, almost trancelike vocals enter, drums and guitar set up a rhythm in four beat time, creating hypnotically shifting accents as the two time frames overlap. The lyrics remind us to look up and outwards, “living, believing, … seeing” while the music envelopes us in a halo of guitars, Mellotron and gently pulsing drums. The track ends as it began, with Barbieri’s drifting chord sequence gently fading into the vast distances of space.
One of Filter’s many strengths is its dynamic flow, with the sequence of tracks creating constant changes of pace and perspective. After the dreamy introspection of Love Me Out, Judgement Day is an up-tempo rock song in a catchy and accessible style; but its message is deadly serious. The Doomsday clock is ticking, and with our world standing at just 85 seconds before midnight, we are spiralling on a path of self-destruction. Harsher sonorities, heavily rocking guitar and a touch of minor key menace briefly intrude, but like complacent humanity the song persists on its headlong way, ending abruptly with a final “ting” of the Judgement bell as time is called at the last chance saloon.
Look to the Spring and Desert Bloom present contrasting portraits of the resurgence of life. The first, a vibrantly optimistic instrumental, flows serenely like a time lapse film of plants pushing through the earth and into the sunlight, their leaves glittering with dew. Autoharp and pedal steel create delicate, watery textures. Muted trumpet and plucked double bass suggest a late night ambience, enlivened by splashes of percussion and chiming guitars. In contrast, like the poppies of the Somme, the red flowers of Desert Bloom symbolise countless years of bloodshed and suffering. The lamenting tones of Calabrese’s trumpet drift through a shimmering heat haze of pulsing tone clusters. Hossam Ramzy’s percussion and the plaintive piping of Theo Travis’s duduk establish an Arabic groove over a bass guitar loop. Grice’s vocals, dark with sorrow and regret, make a brief but eloquent appearance before giving way to the eerie tones of Barbieri’s filtered vibraphones and the pitiless emptiness of the desert.
The relentless ticking of the Doomsday clock dominates Time (is there any?). A clamour of clocks tock and chime above Swainger’s 5/4 bass loop. In contrast, a drone, exotic scales, tabla drums and Mellotron flute deliver a hippy-ish ‘60’s Indian vibe. Finally the ticking degenerates into radio noise and the dull chiming and whirrs of broken clocks; the party is over and time has run out.
On an album exploring a continuum from raw, unfiltered sounds to the high resolution of songs such as Love Me Out, Dumah (Silence) stands at the cutting edge. Dumah is the angel of silence and the dead, and this live improvisation featuring the experimental guitarist and composer David Torn is a nightmare vision of what happens when compassion dies and our hearts cannot grow. The extraordinary range of effects from Torn’s guitar and pedals perfectly complement the raw grief conveyed by Grice’s disjointed and tortured vocals. Programmed loops and drones sustain a deeply uncomfortable sense of menace which advances and recedes in waves of intensity. Eliza Carew’s cello offers a moment of consolation as Grice begs “Leave a light on/I cannot see”, but comfort is short-lived and night is advancing. The coda suggests the death throes of hope, the underlying pulse degrading as the final life signs cease.
The lyrics of Five Leaf Clover are deliberately left open to personal interpretation, but perhaps the title symbolises the impossible promises and fake news of social media, which ultimately leave us disappointed. Over a relaxed percussion groove, guitars and keyboards wrap us in soft, languorous waves like an enchantment. Grice’s vocals are sweet and silken, employing a higher register in the chorus to create meltingly lovely layered harmonies. The second half brings a more sinister mood, with angular vocal lines, distortion on the guitars and increasing dissonance. A plaintive cello tries to return us to the mood and key of the opening, but the spell is broken.
Like its soulmate, Look to the Spring, Tiny Things is an entrancing track celebrating the rich diversity of life and natural systems. Delicate blips and chimes suggest gently dripping water, or the secret ecosystems that sustain life on our planet, and Calabrese’s muted trumpet undulates languidly like waving fronds of seaweed. The crash of ocean breakers evokes a tropical beach or lush coral reef. Textures shift and change, creating intricate soundscapes. Our world is precious, but so delicately balanced. In stark contrast, (f)Lawlless describes a dystopian world where that precarious balance has been destroyed. Pulses of sonar and slowly creaking electronica suggest an underwater hell where coral reefs are lifeless and sterile and the planet’s natural filters are breaking down. A doleful guitar picks out meaningless fragments of a long-lost melody. Percussion patters aimlessly until it finally runs out of steam, and a whale utters a final lament. In T S Eliot’s words, “This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang but a whimper”. Linking these two tracks, the blissful Spinning Trees feels like a blast of nostalgia, its familiar ‘60’s style chord sequence, two-part vocals and acoustic folkiness carrying us back to the pastoral idyll of Canticle.
Starting us off on the home stretch, State Variable feels like a straightforward love song, its laid back and gently bluesy guitars, smooth vocals and Mellotron flute lulling us into sleepy security. But once more the lyrics are ambiguous – are we saved by love or simply hiding from the pain of reality in an alcohol-induced stupor? The haunting closing track, Traveller feels suitably valedictory. Like a ship gliding into the mist, Grice’s poignant vocals are suspended above shimmering synth chords and yearning cello. Melodic fragments from Steve Jansen’s muted felt piano hang in the air like droplets of sea spray. The lyrics summarise what is perhaps the album’s key theme:
I share this love with everyone
Some things are hard to face alone
As the ship disappears from sight, Grice’s vocals gradually break up and the music fades into eerily distorted sonic fragments. The album closes with a final murmur of electronica and the plaintively evocative call of a tawny owl.
Filter is a visionary and unflinching album which challenges us to contemplate the future of a world where we cease to care about one another or for our planet’s wellbeing. Grice pulls no punches and not all the tracks make for comfortable listening. Lyrically and musically it is a many-layered masterpiece which rewards repeated listening and delivers an intensity of experience and emotional impact which lingers in the mind long after the album is finished. I cannot recommend it highly enough, both in recognition of the outstanding song-writing and performance quality and for the wisdom and relevance of the message it so movingly conveys.
TRACK LISTING
01. Filter (4:53)
02. Canticle (Fayre) (2:31)
03. Love Me Out (5:52)
04. Judgement Day (4:16)
05. Look to the Spring (5:09)
06. Desert Bloom (10:28)
07. Time (is there any?) (3:54)
08. Dumah (silence) (10:55)
09. Five Leaf Clover (6:39)
10. Tiny Things (5:26)
11. Spinning Trees (1:54)
12. (f)Lawless (3:17)
13. State Variable (6:13)
14. Traveller (3:31)
Total Time – 64:58
MUSICIANS
Grice – Vocals, Electric & Acoustic Guitars, Bass, Drums, Mellotron, Autoharp, Sonics, Keyboards, Filters
Richard Barbieri – Keyboards, Synthesisers, Sonics, Filters
Steve Jansen – Sonics, Atmospherics, Filters
David Torn – Guitars, Loops, Pedals
Luca Calabrese – Trumpet
Theo Travis – Duduk
Al Swainger – Bass, Double Bass
Duncan Chave – Filters
~ with:
Robert Brian – Drums
B J Cole – Pedal Steel Guitar
Eliza Carew – Cello
Steve Bingham – Violin
Hossam Ramzy – Percussion
Marco Maggiore – Drum Loop
ADDITIONAL INFO
Record Label: Hungersleep Productions
Country of Origin: UK
Date of Release: 29th May 2026
