This is good strong stuff and you don't have to fear its somberness, or shy away from having the whole lot at once: there's enough grace, sinew and primeval mass here to deserve a chance of being the main thing in your brain for a half an hour, even if the opening title track looms out of the silence to establish a portentous presence, and having done so, rather slips away in a slow heartbeat rhythm and female vocal. We're not quite on the Floyd side of the moon, but nor are we as firmly on earth or its oceanic expanses as with what's to come.
'Straits of Messina' gets almost half the CD's temporal space, through a soundscape of strings, backgrounded guitars which are allowed the occasional distant gull-shriek, percussion, brass and a Pastorius-like booming foghorn bass. These impose a certain strenuousness of listening that becomes measurable only when an uplifting sunrise-like passage of trumpet concerto transforms the feel of the piece over its last two minutes, and shoots a bright ray in the direction of M Davis's Spain.
Thereafter it's 'Magna Via', the most beautiful and moving of the three compositions - and the one that plays the biggest geographical trick, if indeed its title refers not to something in the heart of the Roman Empire, but to Falconetti's own heartland of Halifax and surrounding wildernesses.
Overall, a firm statement of how there's some impressive territory nearer than you'd think, and in far greater quantity than you'd imagine.