I usually find instrumental CDs particularly challenging to review. They involve more concentration
in the listening because the music is conveying everything. There’s no vocal or lyric to help carry the
message. The music is the scene, the setting, the action, the message, and the magic. Which is why I
hold instrumental artists to a higher standard than others. Their job is especially challenging.
For some reason, I had an easier time of it with Bill Cornish’s Horizons. It was like a movie screen
flickered to life in front of me and then expanded to pull me into it. All I have to do is describe the
scenery.
It begins with “Précis,” a majestic, new age orchestra of nature that begins with a simple exchange between
the sky (flute) and the Earth (bass drum). The resonating sounds stir a response in the human spirit. The
stars join in as delicately chiming bells. It’s a perfect overture.
As the CD progresses, I see celestial bodies stepping in style across the sky, swirling and sliding on
stocking feet. I feel summer’s warm, low, enveloping groove. On one track, “Scatterbrain,” the music
actually shows a sense of humor, illustrating this disjointed state of mind with uptempo jazz and
a jittery keyboard riff. In “The Road Less Traveled,” the determination in the pressing of the piano
keys evokes the rockiness and heavy undergrowth of the path.
Cornish has the gift. He doesn’t need lyrics, and he already has the singers. Nature is singing through
this music. Cornish does a lovely job of transcribing the magic.
| 
