"News of David Sylvian's long-awaited new album revealed that he'd be collaborating not only with previous partner Fennesz, but with a bevy of top drawer improvisers from Vienna, London and Tokyo. Since 1984's Brilliant Trees, Sylvian has sought out distinctive sounds and improvisers to realize his narcotic dreams, his melancholy, and his occasionally bleak, occasionally sentimental visions. In particular, his early collaborations with Can's Holger Czukay and King Crimson's Robert Fripp yielded an early fascination with psychedelic textures (even as he would use these to frame, say, a Kenny Wheeler solo). At times, the experimentalism that emerged from these early preoccupations is as prominent as songcraft in Sylvian's world. His own smoky voice has remained the constant. Whether he's flirted with love songs, with Carnatic music, or with "downtown" improvisations, that voice - somewhat stately in its articulation and disposition, but also weathered and a bit beaten - always shapes the music.

Manafon seems focused - both thematically and in terms of its effect - on detachment. You might say that this is due in part to the presence of his collaborators, and it's true that the Tokyo musicians (sine wave specialist Sachiko M, turntablist/guitarist Otomo Yoshihide, guitarist Tetuzi Akiyama, and Toshimaru Nakamura on no-input mixing board) are often associated with such impressions. But while this cast of heavies is quite able to coax the various shades of grey from Sylvian's increasingly spare songs, it's Sylvian's own vision that creates the detachment.

[...]

In a mere 40-odd minutes, Manafon delivers a truly powerful vision. However central Sylvian's bleak commentary, the weight and suggestiveness of this record gives it a sense of unpredictability, possibility, almost an openness beyond itself. It's absolutely superb."-Jason Bivins