Skyways
“Some albums announce themselves slowly, like clouds taking shape before your eyes. Skyways is one of them, a record that drifts in gently, unfolds at its own pace, and leaves behind the quiet wonder of hearing something beautiful form and fade in real time. Recorded over two late-summer days in Tallinn, this third outing from the Misha Panfilov Septet feels both spontaneous and deeply harmonized. Its two long pieces — “The Sky for You and I” and “Fine and Dandy” — trace parallel paths across the same horizon. The first rises slowly from a hush of piano and bass, the rest of the players gradually joining in until the whole ensemble seems to breathe as a single instrument. The second begins in stillness too, but builds with quiet conviction, gathering momentum until the band lifts off together, suspended for a moment before dissolving again into open space. Misha Panfilov has always treated improvisation as a meeting place rather than a spotlight, and there’s a sense of deep trust here — seven musicians playing as one, following where the current leads. You can hear it in the pauses, in the patient handoffs, in the sense that the music is discovering itself as it goes. Every phrase feels alive to the present, responsive, unforced.
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Description
“Some albums announce themselves slowly, like clouds taking shape before your eyes. Skyways is one of them, a record that drifts in gently, unfolds at its own pace, and leaves behind the quiet wonder of hearing something beautiful form and fade in real time. Recorded over two late-summer days in Tallinn, this third outing from the Misha Panfilov Septet feels both spontaneous and deeply harmonized. Its two long pieces — “The Sky for You and I” and “Fine and Dandy” — trace parallel paths across the same horizon. The first rises slowly from a hush of piano and bass, the rest of the players gradually joining in until the whole ensemble seems to breathe as a single instrument. The second begins in stillness too, but builds with quiet conviction, gathering momentum until the band lifts off together, suspended for a moment before dissolving again into open space. Misha Panfilov has always treated improvisation as a meeting place rather than a spotlight, and there’s a sense of deep trust here — seven musicians playing as one, following where the current leads. You can hear it in the pauses, in the patient handoffs, in the sense that the music is discovering itself as it goes. Every phrase feels alive to the present, responsive, unforced.
