There are many titles but no actual subdivisions in the music comprised by the two sides of this LP, whose tracks were recorded by Will and Dani Long at home in 2008. As always, the sounds were obtained via a painstaking work of degeneration and reconfiguration of the timbres coming from normal instruments and machines. However, this time the final result is special as we abandon precincts characterized by worn-out terminologies and genres, approaching instead a condition which is nearer to a singular kind of extrasensory fog than “new ambient”, or whatever name you may want to stick on it.

A slight differentiation exists between the parts. In the first, human remnants seem to be still present: unrecognizably altered voices (perhaps a handful of singers, somewhere), or just traces of someone’s activity appear and perplex, attributing an additional degree of uncertainty to an indescribable combination of factors. Everything revolves around a constant instability of nebulously stifled clusters – occasionally following a synchronization of sorts, elsewhere amassing one over another in indefinite fashion – that get suddenly cut at one point, leaving us quite flummoxed.

The other face of the coin is represented by the relative steadiness informing part of the second side, also defined by the type of vibrational/irrational power (mainly originating from a creatively skilled equalization) which only certain adjacent frequencies can elicit. Sudden increases in the thickness of the sound’s inherent rumble are capable of annihilating the shimmering textures that some of these recordings are endowed with. Ultimately, this mix of situations brings the whole to the same state of sonic ambiguity perceived previously, the amplified influence of the lowest possible susurrus literally clutching the nape of the neck at elevated levels of playback.

In both cases the outcome is impressive, causing a temporary postponement of alternative actions, and the few pops due to the vinyl are not detrimental to a compelling involvement. Dwell In Possibility indisputably belongs among Celer’s paramount releases and its reissue in digital format would be very useful for this writer’s personal needs of infinite-repeat abstraction.

– Massimo Ricci

http://braindeadeternity.blogspot.com/2010/07/celer-dwell-in-possibility.html

You know that feeling you get when you realise you’ve missed the boat? That bizarre moment of realisation that somehow you just weren’t in the right place at the right time? Listening to Celer’s “Engaged Touches” was a moment like that for me…

I’m baffled as to how I’ve managed to avoid hearing Celer’s music – I’ve seen their name mentioned in all the right places, read reviews and noted that their music has been released on some fantastic labels. Yet, whether through a lack of time or through simply not cognitively registering the information in front of me, I have succeeded in overlooking their work. Thankfully, Home Normal have seen fit to allow those people, like myself, who have been left stranded at the shore scratching their heads and watching the boat disappear over the horizon, a second chance to get on board with this re-release of “Engaged Touches”.

So, with the knowledge that I’m probably preaching to the converted, I have to say, with the zeal of the new convert, this album is simply magnificent. Taking the form of two long pieces, “Engaged Touches” is music to be alone with and lose yourself in. It is not merely that pieces of this length require the sustained attention of the listener, but the two tracks here, with their enveloping ambience and hidden layers, demand attention for their discreet and restrained beauty. Each piece is made up of linked vignettes rich in balance and classicism. Stylistically, the most obvious comparison is to Stars of the Lid’s “And Their Refinement of the Decline”. Each phrase is characterised by wholeness, is a self-contained epic.  Frozen strings melt into channels that are at once both familiar and fulfilling. Tones emerge, shift and probe the auditory field – tracing and defining the boundaries of wakefulness.  Whilst undeniably minimal – on a first listen some people may understandably (but mistakenly) dismiss these tracks as directionless or lacking a driving force – the pieces have a glacial subtlety that provides cumulative momentum. Time appears suspended; the pieces deliberately unfold, evolving with studied forbearance and, despite their length, they’re gone before you realise.

It doesn’t make sense to try and capture the details of each track here; the delicacy and timing of their emotional resolution defies any attempt to focus on individual parts – to separate out the constituents is impracticable. There is an experiential quality to this music that can only understood through allowing yourself time to absorb its scope and affective splendour. “Engaged Touches” should be experienced in its undivided, perfectly balanced entirety as a single entity. It should be engaged with like a landscape; a real landscape, not a painting – timeless, majestic and embodying an immutable, elemental power. Stupendous stuff.

– Review by John McCaffrey for Fluid Radio

http://www.fluid-radio.co.uk/2010/07/celer-engaged-touches/

She smiled, with a pleasant inquiry, and a little bit of a bedhead. Walking into the room, in her v-neck cotton shirt and pajama pants, at midnight where I was on the couch, my mouth cracked because of infomercials. Just that soft cotton tshirt of hers. The warm smell from her hair permeates every inch of space left on this couch, that we don’t occupy together. Just a blinking tv, with a below-audible volume and the occasional car horn in the sleeping city streets are around. Even the old tomcat is asleep, but what else does he ever do? Goodnight, these dreams.

I drove down the streets next to sunset, stopping at the red light. Two streets up, you were crossing the road, your long, straight hair and bangs concealing your face for a moment, before I saw it was you. You answered your phone, and spoke, without ever noticing I was driving past, almost as if being glad to have a distraction. Or did you notice? Did you want to notice? You walked into the door to the laundry room, and out of sight. Others stood talking in the double rooms, separated by the long hallway, in the whorly hum of washing machines and dryers. I drove ahead, turning east, and up the hill past the empty stadium. Sunset was near, with the sky a cold blue and burnt orange. In the empty, spacious parking lot was a police siren, and a parked police car; just in silence with their actions, waiting. Myself and other cars stopped at the stop light, with nothing crossing, and waiting until it turned green to drive ahead, over the next hill.

“I want you always to remember me. Will you remember that I existed, and that I stood next to you here like this?”
– Haruki Murakami

Alarms kept being turned off, and ignored (deaf ears), yet I kept waking up on time, much to my surprise. It was when I was actually awake that I became late. 3 hours? That long? Wet streets, diminutive raindrops falling into the puddles. Inside, my sweater drying above the clothes rack as I pulled my shirt over and run downstairs, to run up the adjoining stairs. Up stone steps, and a cold wave of kids voices rush in when opening the door, but instead the wind was behind me, swooning as the door closed. In the far room was a museum, just having been taken apart by a tour of kids, everything partially destroyed. I kept searching for a place to put on my shoes. Just a bench.. Around a corner was a long cream couch, and a red chair with one man sitting in it, who sat completely ignoring, absorbed in his morning newspaper. All the walls were egg white and baby pink. Still and raining outside. Only 3 hours left to work, I told her, at a distance where she could have understood me by heat of my breath, her hair in my eyes and stinging a little bit. We said other things but that’s all I can say.. but, I can still remember ardor, the warmth, even aside from a goodbye kiss and soft hug, just that I know I’ll see you later, still that warmth hanging on me as I reached my job for the rest of the day. Just then though, I realized I’d left without my shoes.