A collection of poignant solo piano pieces that’s perfect for looking at faded photographs and thumbing through dusty old books.

Weigl and Hoffman combine orchestral sounds, sparse piano lines, Spanish guitar, and skittering, echoey beats.

Richter’s music is perfectly suited to the themes of loss, nostalgia, and alienation that permeate Haruki Murakami’s work.

A tribute to an old computer, the five long tracks that make up this disc are elegiac and gorgeous.

A highly evocative composition that is both joyful and uplifting, infinitely sad and haunting.

Max Richter’s compositions possess an arresting and singular beauty.

A perfect soundtrack for waxing nostalgic for the movies that play on in my memory.

Many of the songs on the CD consist of soaring string arrangements, quite appropriate for a series that’s all about flying and freedom in the skies.

The music remains subtle and understated, doing a fine job of drawing the listener into its unique little world.

This is not a cheery release, and the songs contained within are as black as the packaging.

Not to sound overly melodramatic, but this music is what I picture souls entering heaven hear.

Each song feels perfectly, beautifully natural, an outlet for a man trying to cope with death and loss.

There’s a depth, often dark and mysterious, that flows around the base of each song.

An album guaranteed to make you think twice about the piano.

Bryars does an excellent job with this album, writing pieces that strengthen and bolster the tramp’s voice without overpowering it.

Whilst requiring more work on behalf of the listener, ultimately this is an experience every bit as rewarding as Rachel’s earlier albums.

Pure contemplative magic.

I think we’ll all be hard-pressed at year’s end to find an album quite as inspired (and inspiring) as this one.