Robert Moran, Mantra
Robert Moran is that uncle you wish you had, the one who returns every two years from Senegal or the Bavarian Alps, clocks you on the shoulder a little too hard and says, “Look at this scimitar I picked up! Isn’t it fantastic?” And it’s true, you’ve never seen a scimitar so fantastic. Then he laughs and starts to swing it and you take a couple of steps back.
Moran’s music bubbles over with that joy of discovery, but it’s not frivolous. No, like the left lane on the Autobahn, you don’t go there unless you’re serious and you’ve got the engine to back it up. What separates Moran from some minimalists and post-minimalists is particularity—every sound is meticulous, balanced, and elegantly placed. That translates into horsepower. Moran’s been soaring for decades and is still having fun. But it’s well-prepared fun: you don’t just show up in Senegal, after all, and come back with a scimitar. Get Mantra, then take a couple of steps back.