The term ‘badass’ shouldn’t apply to something that starts off so beautifully. While ‘Footprints’ fires on fewer cylinders, ‘Noches’ explodes into life at the click of a castanet, the Spanish guitar’s fretboard getting a good going over, then serious broken beat and bass rushing after imperial strings and Sawhney’s vocal passion like a bull entering a freshly-stocked, red-painted china shop.
4 Out Of 5
Reviewed By: Matt Oliver
