Review of the Twink CD & picture-book from Splendid Ezine by George Zahora
For many years, experimentally-minded artists have been drawn to their earliest source of musical inspiration: toy instruments. For this, credit the toy piano, which is arguably the only part of the Toys R Us orchestra capable of producing a truly unique and compelling sound. Among those seduced by the toy piano's plinky-plonky sound is Mike Langlie, alias Twink, whose chance flea-market purchase of said instrument apparently changed his whole outlook on music. The former industrial/goth gloom-merchant quickly amassed a large collection of toy pianos and similar noisemakers — and before long, he felt the urge to do something with them...
Oddly, the majority of the toy instrument "projects" I've heard make little or no concession to children. Twink breaks the mold. While they're not specifically aimed at young 'uns, the disc's 25 songs tap a vein of fairy tale and fantasy atmosphere that should appeal to anyone with an active imagination and a youthful spirit. A joyful sort of magic enlivens even the darkest of these tunes, buoyed by the energy behind each percussive piano plunk.
The trick here, if there is one, is in the composition. These aren't rock songs enhanced by or transposed to toy instruments; the songs on Twink were specifically composed for Langlie's miniature orchestra, taking into account each little instrument's unique sonic properties and limitations. This clearly isn't a stunt for Langlie but a challenge, and he approaches it earnestly and inventively — and with considerable respect for his diminutive equipment. It's particularly gratifying to hear conventional instruments and technology used to support and enhance the toys, suggesting that even their instrumental "betters" have acknowledged their value.
The disc opens on a high note with "Hoppity Jones", a joyful march composed of toy piano, whistles, a whimsical melodic loop borrowed from an old record, and some thick, slightly muffled club beats. Despite causing the disc's first disbelieving jaw-drop, the beats actually merge quite well with the music, creating a vigorous martial rhythm that younger listeners will love. "Fleezle" yields an even better bit of magic: Langlie, playing toy piano over some squelchy beats (which sound as if they were made via low-grade turntable manipulation), develops a bluesy variation on "Pop Goes the Weasel". A cascade of orchestral hits kicks the tune to a hurdy gurdy, stopping the show once again.
"Do You Hear The Frog" is a more electronic-sounding piece that places an old Fisher Price See and Say at center stage. Here, Langlie profits by rediscovering a piece of information that leaves most of our heads when we hit puberty — namely, that if you're nimble-fingered, it's possible to get a turntable scratching effect out of a See and Say. "Moongirl" goes for more straightforward ambiance, backing a chiming piano with a deep, squelchy keyboard-and-beat combo; "Sand and Fire" grabs the mood and carries it into dark fantasy territory, its tinkly wind chime and water glass melody married to a throbbing, menacing beat.
"Catnip" is the music your cat hears in his head when he's had too much of the titular feline intoxicant; it's a fever dream of hyper-speed drum and bass beats, tinkly melodies and psychedelic electric guitar breaks. "Whoop-de-doodle" heightens its comedic effect with squeeze toy accents, while "Mechanical Mouse" uses loops and a prepared toy piano to create an Eastern mood. The moody drill-n-bass quasi-dub epic "Cloud Watcher" strongly recalls µ-ziq's best efforts, and the sublimely beautiful "The Nearest Star" teams the toy piano with violin and viola, elevating it to the role of harpsichord for the disc's final moments.
The inclination (demonstrated in the preceeding paragraphs) to describe Twink at length is inspired by the album's wealth of modest but compelling ideas. Langlie's compositions aren't tossed-off excuses to record toy instruments; his enthusiasm for his tiny pianos, and his appreciation of their potential as music-making tools, is evident throughout. He isn't merely tapping into some forgotten kindergarten music vibe — he's pulling those ideas into the present and developing them. And the results are magical.
Twink isn't just a CD. It's accompanied by a 32-page picture book, which tells the tale of a toy-piano-toting rabbit whose music fills a happy forest. The disc slips snugly into the book's back cover; if you're old enough to remember the storybook-and-record combinations that were popular in the late sixties and early seventies, the design will seem very familiar. And while neither CD nor book are necessarily intended for children, you'll want to share Twink's joyful music with every young-at-heart music lover you know. Grumpy old adults can listen to Tortoise.