- Critic score
- Publication
- By date
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The WireThere is no fake authenticity in this musical exploration, and Herren's musical palette is impressively wide ranging. [#241, p.63]
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Apropa't pulses with sensual rhythms, lush harmonies, and ethereal forms that weave together to create a truly amazing aural experience.
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While it may be the most unfamiliar work of Herren’s discography, it’s still one of the year’s first great albums.
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FilterAn album awash in evocative warmth. [#9, p.111]
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Towards the end, Herren's love of the glitch tentatively tries to reassert itself, but poetry and seductiveness manage to pacify it for the duration.
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MojoA better advert for time-share life it's hard to imagine. [Feb 2004, p.102]
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UncutAs good a record, in fact, as anything this gifted polymath has ever released. [Feb 2004, p.82]
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Side projects rarely eclipse their protagonists’ main works, but Apropa’t is one radical departure that finds the players perfectly aligning themselves to each other so convincingly that it’s hard to imagine Herren looking back again.
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Apropa't has a tendency at first to gently wash over you, striking no particular chord. But as you pay closer attention to the music, the melodic wash of it all becomes one of its addictive qualities.
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Apropa’t’s biggest flaw could be the use of Eva Puyuelo Muns’ vocals. Perhaps I’m accustomed primarily to Herren’s music as instrumental, but the use of Eva feels painfully forced at times.
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Q MagazineSo intimate and sad you can almost see the candles flickering. [Mar 2004, p.110]
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His most personal recording yet.
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Here their ambient electro is enhanced with a melange of influences that include soul, jazz and - a real winner this - Brazilian psychedelia.
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This may be Herren's least accessible project to date.
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'Apropa't' sounds as organic as a dump and as lush as a drizzly sunset.
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Listeners who expect a batch of immediately compelling music from any Herren material will be sorely disappointed here; Apropa't pulls way back from his upfront Prefuse work and delivers a record of music so sparsely textured it barely raises off the surface.
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Classical guitars, mellow piano chords and brushed drums lope across the proceedings like yawning animals still awaiting their first caffeinated jolt of the day.
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This is the kind of thing indie boys put on when they want to have sex.