With a correlated and passive calmness that standardizes a joyful conjuncture of pleasant harmonies under subtly pertinent circumstances, Empty Colors is a very simple, but thrilling album. Very concise – only twenty eight minutes long –, the record has seven tracks: Monochromic Synesthesia, The Grey Heart Blues, Blue ruin, I always thought that one day everything would be settled, but everything just went black, Alors on en est là, à pisser sur du cuivre..., Rust and Vert-de-gris. Its brevity rejoices at the generous, but tempestuous wave of a confluent mobile objectivity, whose purpose deflagrates over the waves of its ardently ceremonial intonations the glorifying splendor of a calm, serene and everlasting sensitive ordeal.
The album does have some degree of predictability over the course of its run, but, nonetheless, it’s greatly appreciable and formidably well executed; at the peak of its more abstract moments, it is possible to feel the rapture of its graceful, but warmly diluted singularity. A delicate, measurable, exceedingly pleasant work of vigorous authenticity, Empty Colors presents to its audience simply the best qualities post rock has to offer, in a genuine, refined, unpretentious and competent creative scope, whose incredibly simple, but high standards are sufficient to evoke the marvelous placidity of its surreal grace.