Album Review: Power Plant / Tragic Desolation / Salt Of The Sea / Cotton Reel by The Harmonic Orchestra
Alright, let’s talk about this gem of an album from The Harmonic Orchestra. It’s one of those records that sneaks up on you—quiet at first but then BAM, it sticks in your head for days. Released under A Harmonic Private Recording (with some help from Charles Brull Ltd.), this UK-born masterpiece falls into the Stage & Screen genre, which makes sense once you dive in. Cecil Milner and Wilfred Burns did the composing here, splitting duties across the tracks. And lemme tell ya, these guys knew how to set a mood.
First off, we gotta chat about "Cotton Reel." This track is just… fun? Like, I wasn’t expecting to tap my foot so hard while listening to something labeled “Stage & Screen,” but here we are. It’s got this playful energy, almost like someone turned a vintage film score into a quirky little jam session. You can totally picture old-timey folks dancing around in a black-and-white movie montage. Doesn’t hurt that Cecil Milner clearly had a blast writing it—it feels loose, alive, and kinda cheeky. Honestly, if this doesn’t make you smile, check your pulse.
Then there’s "Tragic Desolation." Woof, what a switch-up! If "Cotton Reel" is all sunshine and giggles, this one’s more like staring out a rainy window with a cup of tea gone cold. Wilfred Burns really leaned into the drama here. The strings pull at your heartstrings like they’re auditioning for some sweeping emotional climax in a movie. It builds slowly, layer upon layer, until you’re just sitting there thinking, “Man, life is heavy sometimes.” But weirdly, it’s not depressing—it’s cathartic. Like crying during a good movie because you needed to let it all out.
The other two tracks, "Salt Of The Sea" and "Power Plant," are solid too, don’t get me wrong. They round out the album nicely, giving it texture and variety. But honestly, “Cotton Reel” and “Tragic Desolation” are the ones I keep coming back to. They’re polar opposites, yet both feel so intentional. It’s like the composers were having a friendly competition—who could write the happiest tune versus who could crush your soul the most?
Anyway, wrapping this up—this album feels like flipping through an old photo album where every picture tells a different story. One moment you’re laughing at Uncle Bob doing the twist, and the next you’re tearing up over Grandma’s wedding portrait. Weird analogy? Maybe. But hey, that’s art for ya. Who would’ve thought a Stage & Screen record could hit so many notes without ever saying a word? Definitely worth adding to your collection if you’re into stuff that’s moody, melodic, and just plain memorable.
Oh, and random thought—imagine hearing this live. Would people clap politely or burst into spontaneous interpretive dance? Asking for a friend.
