A SCENE IN RETROSPECT: Floating Points, Pharoah Sanders and the London Symphony Orchestra – “Promises”

‘There’s something infinitely fascinating in the space conjured by Promises. It’s something vast, endlessly shifting, eerily familiar, and most of all, beautiful like symmetry.‘

-Robert Miklos

Release date: March 26, 2021 | Luaka Bop | Bandcamp | Floating Points Facebook | Instagram | Website | Pharoah Sanders Facebook | Instagram | Website | London Symphony Orchestra Website

It still feels unreal that Pharoah Sanders isn’t amongst us anymore. His final release before his 2022 passing still rings true as one of his most resoundingly beautiful recordings; facilitated by Floating Points and accompanied by the London Symphony Orchestra, Promises feels like a dreamlike meeting of minimalist composition and spiritual jazz.

I remember when I first read about this album, the announcement floating (ha!) through my inbox. Prolific electronica producer Floating Points was about to team up with the larger-than-life jazz legend Pharoah Sanders and the London Symphony Orchestra for a release consisting of one composition called Promises.

Huh, I didn’t have that on my bingo card back then, but it made me tingle with excitement. It was one of my most anticipated albums in 2021, and when it finally dropped, it caused a ruckus within our team – well, to be fair, for those who were excited based on who was involved with this project. You expect big fanfare when so much creative force comes together, but I was really surprised when Promises turned out to be an album deeply rooted in ambient and minimalism. The bulk of the composition was done by Sam Shepherd, the man behind Floating Points, with Pharaoh Sanders and the London Symphony Orchestra adding their unique spice to it. And when Sanders’ saxophone comes in for the first time, roughly 83 seconds into the album, you know you are in for a very special ride.

For me, personally, the subversion of my own expectations made this album even greater than the sum of its parts. There are crescendos, and there are majestic swells, which create walls of sound unmatched in their grace and beauty, but for the most part, Promises is very delicate and contemplative. The string section, provided by the London Symphony Orchestra, is primarily focused on creating soundscapes and textures, with Sam Shepherd using a myriad of electronic and non-electronic instruments to create wonderfully elegant and non-intrusive motifs. Pharaoh Sanders‘ tenor saxophone tenderly cuts through the sonic world in a very tasteful, very refined way. Like an experienced painter, his brush dances over the canvas – sometimes with bold, ecstatic colors, sometimes only to add a mere shade. With decades of experience, and unknowingly (or knowingly, who can tell?) in the last stage of his life, no note Sanders plays is too much. He knows when not to play. His feeling for space is simply astonishing.

Pharaoh Sanders sadly passed away in 2022, making Promises his final album. I can’t think of a more magical way to say goodbye to the world, letting his audience bask in his magic one last time. When Sam Shepherd and Sanders met over lunch and started talking about a collaboration, they probably didn’t have in mind what a force of nature they would come up with – but with all the parties involved, it wasn’t much of a surprise after all.

I’ve never written about the same album on two different occasions. Today is the day when I do it for the first time. To be fair, it’s been five years since I initially reviewed Promises. Back then, thoroughly impressed, I spoke highly of it and my review is a highly technical one. Tuning back into the record in depth over these past few days for the purposes of this revisitation, I decided that a more vibe-based approach will be my delivery of choice this time around.

It’s obvious that things change over time. Although, the way I see Promises is still largely unchanged. Just like a few years back, it’s a superb album, with an incredible depth and the staying power of a great record. It has that timeless classic spirit residing deep within its fabric. I believe that it will still resonate with people decades from now, even if it may feel a little old when reflecting upon the time of its release.

I still stand by the fact that dividing it into songs/segments is superfluous. There are simply no clear delimitations in the musical structure, or rather, if there are any – they don’t stand as well as individual songs as others may. Nor does it make any sense for the piece, from my point of view, to be presented in any other form than as a single, massive, enveloping journey. While I can imagine there are certain practicalities related to modern streaming services and all kinds of adjacent things to consider, all of which could be valid arguments. However, I view them as a hindrance which cheapens such artistic efforts, forcing them to adapt to unnecessary measures. Although, I may be reading too much into it and Floating Points along with Pharoah Sanders (rest in power) and co., just decided they wanted it like this for no other reason than, have it as such.

There’s something infinitely fascinating in the space conjured by Promises. It’s something vast, endlessly shifting, eerily familiar, and most of all, beautiful like symmetry. Its beauty isn’t something evanescent or superficial, it’s something profound, layered, complex. It isn’t something hot, or flashy, it’s dignified, substantial and most of all, graceful.

It also feels to a degree like staring into a campfire for too long. Something primordial activates in the spirit at some point and you slowly surrender to a hypnotic state. It’s just you and the flickering flame. As the images from the mind are purged along with any stray emotions, there’s a profound comfort. Beyond it, there’s a clarity, which allows you to peer into the tiniest of minutiae of the observable realm with an outstanding precision. I guess you could say it’s meditative with monumental augumentations. I’m not entirely sure what that is. However, I’m here for it 150%.

I’ve seen and felt many things in this space. I can’t honestly say I remember most of them. Such fleeting things, can never be properly captured and crystallized and the few that can be, end up losing their charm in time. Though, I believe it’s more about enjoying the experience rather than a solid takeaway. Not to say that the latter isn’t a viable experience, more that it shouldn’t be the focus/sole purpose. It’s truly wonderful that something, so deceitfully ordinary as a record, can produce such an experience. In a manner of speaking, one could say that, Promises, promises to leave a lasting mark.

I’m a latecomer to this album, well, to Floating Points (Sam Shepherd) in general, only hearing him for the first time with 2024’s Cascade, and that album took me a few listens to really get into. I’m no aficionado the dance or club scenes.  Once I did get into it, I was very impressed, was recommended Promises by a good friend. Oh, and it features jazz legend Pharoah Sanders and the fucking London Symphony Orchestra? Hell yeah, I am in! That has to sound crazy with Shepherd’s thoughtful and emotive dance music, right?

Well, actually no. Instead, what I found was something that felt at once familiar and alien. Before this album I had heard lots of jazz, ambient, drone, and experimental music, with many longer compositions. That side, the basic descriptors of this album were familiar enough to me, but I can’t think of one of those previous experiences that feels like this album. Promises is a hypnotic journey in nine movements, as surreal as it is earthly, that demands from the listener a pilgrimage from start to finish, and rewards their patient souls with a renewed sense of awe and curiosity. No shuffle. No skips. Stay on for the whole trip.

Promises‘ hypnotic power comes from its main motif, composed and performed by Shepherd that invokes a sort of somber, but peculiarly hopeful feeling. It kind of sounds like a slowed down and rearranged version of that sound in Legend Of Zelda: A Link To The Past when you discover a hidden passageway or chest, as if something dangerous or wonderful could happen at any time. That motif is repeated for the majority of the piece and played with a synthesizer, a piano, and a harpsichord. However, as the album progresses, subtle shifts in the arrangement and the pronunciation of each instrument stave off redundancy. Though the pacing is slower, the repetition reminds me of the beats in hip hop, or a motorik rhythm, or even house music, connecting with your brain in such a way that it enhances and supports any other sounds that would go over it.

In this case, the sounds are from three different musical worlds, each leaving their mark over the course of the piece. Pharoah Sanders, the free and spiritual jazz luminary, blows his powerful and distinct tenor saxophone with decades of patience and timing, sometimes cool and smooth, other times belligerent and lofty. His presence overshadows Shepherd and the London Symphony Orchestra for much of the album. Strings from the orchestra ease their way in, building into crescendos that seem to start several movements before they actually hit, like watching mountains approach from a distance until you feel awash in cinematic vistas overlooking where you once were. All the while, Floating Points is adding whisps of clouds with synthesizers along the way.

Then, Promises throws a couple of false stops in the way. Each one feels logical; there has been some sort of conclusion, and while you’re sitting with the silence, reflecting on what your just heard and possibly about to take your headphones off, another movement starts. These final movements forgo the steadfast motif and see the ensemble soar to wilder highs, well above the summit you thought you climbed. These are both the danger and greatest rewards behind those hidden passageways.

By the time the album is truly finished, you mourn its finality, as if through the long hypnosis and encores you have been reset into childlike wonder, anticipating whatever comes next in the dreamscape of a new world. Revisiting Promises over the last few days has only deepened my adoration of this project. Sadly, it was the last recording from Pharoah Sanders, and like the previous episodes of A Scene In Retrospect this year that covered David Bowie and Low, I feel grateful for the bodies of work left behind. For Floating Points, well, his versatility may be akin to Sanders’s, and we are still discovering what new treasures he has in store. Regardless, Promises stands tall as a true work of daring beauty and timeless grace.