I think I chose the wrong time of the year to listen to this Londoner, Sonny. His music doesn’t match with sunshine and light. Springtime is not his time of the year. This is because 'The Spirit Of Elegy' is a part of a cold and gloomy Victorian universe. His music sounds obscured and dark like the morning fog that covers the lakes of the English countryside. The only thing that seems to disturb the calmness of water and the rustle of leaves are the passing whispering sounds of human nature and the eerie sound of the bell. It’s a place where everything is painted in sepia colour and lit by the twilight.
These seem to be Sonny’s favourite landscapes. This is enhanced by his choice of photos that accompany the CD, the various song titles, the calligraphic lyrics that seem to be written out with a quill and the CD titles that are comprised as if they are letters written on a tombstone.
Sonny could be the unborn child of Cocteau Twins and William Blake or the male alter ego of Kate Bush or even the long gone brother of Sigur Ros. Like a dark pixie, he sings between the tree-leaves and grave shadows.
The result would have been unbearably darksome if it wasn’t covered under a veil of unreal poetry that brings upon an allure of 19th century English Romanticism. His solemn voice and his use of Gregorian vocalisms predominate in the hypnotic sound setting of ambient electronics, simple and plain strings and organ. A refined and meaningful sound that unfolds through an extraordinary melancholic but yet beautiful orchestration, which unreels like a cinematographic trip through Sonny’s favourite places and framing pieces like 'Frost Fair (London Elegy)' and 'Earth and Dust'.