Past recordings by the Advisory Circle sometimes felt like long-lost Cold War transmissions held in reserve in case the British government needed a reason to assure the general public that everything was okay. Jon Brooks, who has functioned under this moniker since the mini-album Mind How You Go in 2005, plugged into the fear and paranoia induced by such declarations. If you feel the need to assure people that everything is alright, they're going to wonder what caused you to tell them that in the first place. Or, as Brooks put it in an interview: "Everything's fine, but there is something not quite right about it." Brooks is obsessed with the government-sponsored enmity that flows through many of the public information films (PIFs) Britain produced in the 1970s and 1980s, often recreating the stern, authoritarian tones of their announcers at certain points in his albums. As the Crow Flies, his third record as the Advisory Circle, also begins that way, with a female voice claiming: "The Advisory Circle. We make the decisions so you don't have to."
Another album modeled on such austerity might feel like Brooks was over-egging an idea that partially helped inspire the hauntology sub-genre. So instead he's slowly evolved the Advisory Circle sound, bringing in acoustic instrumentation to supplement the banks of old analog equipment that remain his primary source tools. This pushes As the Crow Flies a little closer to the kind of darkly pastoral electronic work Boards of Canada were tinkering with on Geogaddi. But this has more conceptual weight than that record, with Brooks concocting a series of songs inspired by the dueling qualities of stasis and change that cycle through the changing of the seasons. It's even got some wonderfully apt sleeve notes by Ronald Hutton, the head of History at Bristol University, who points out the various merits of seasonal festivals in Britain. Like most Ghost Box releases, the attention to detail is impressive, with designer Julian House completing the package via a series of images of an imagined TV title sequence, aimed at dredging up damaged memories of barely remembered children's dramas from yesteryear.
On listening to As the Crow Flies it's easy to picture Brooks fully taking to his task. You can almost see him clad in a thick wool sweater, watching the droplets of snow amassing on his window frame as he prods at an old synthesizer during the wintery "Now Ends the Beginning". On the sci-fi fantasy "Learning Owl Reappears" it feels like he's been gazing up to a star-filled sky through a telescope on a long autumnal evening to find inspiration. This is a less foreboding record than prior Advisory Circle outings, but it's no less sad. "The Patchwork Explains" might be one of Brooks' most impressive pieces yet, with its icy synth tendrils spiking away at a plodding Kraftwerkian throb, somehow managing to be both playful and quietly beautiful. That it's dedicated to the memory of Broadcast singer Trish Keenan couldn't be more appropriate, reflecting her group's sense of wonder and love of offbeat pop.
Brooks carefully varies the character of the album as it progresses, nudging the listener down a subtly shifting stylistic gradient that takes in a Renaissance era lament ("Ceridwen"), steely Europop with prog intonations ("Modern Through Movement"), and a lone vocal venture reminiscent in mood of Air's underrated 10,000 Hz Legend ("Lonely Signalman"). It's evocative, touching, and nostalgic, with the simple keyboard melodies often making it feel like this is all being experienced by a child blinking in bewilderment and amazement as the concept of the natural world is explained to them. But mostly there's a strong sense of discovery, of someone attempting to make sense of their surroundings, with Brooks cast as a voyager trampling through vast stretches of the British countryside, crisp leaves crinkling underfoot as he expertly funnels everything he sees and feels into song.
