Although F.S. Blumm is signed to Morr Music, the German label associated with acts like Ms. John Soda, the Notwist, and Lali Puna, he is not an electronica artist, and Summer Kling is not an electronica album. Yes, there are sometimes soft, nearly inaudible electric bleeps in the background, gently percussive, but most of the record is played on organic instruments. It's Blumm's acoustic guitar that takes center stage, moving from the jazzy, almost Brazilian sounds of "Koffer Dill" and "Land Ab" to the sad and pretty longing in "Halbton" and "Wurf." In fact, every song on the album has that kind of poignant melancholy that never quite falls into depression but is never exactly happy, either. Because there are a fair amount of instrumental arrangement (horns, various keys, and woodwinds, all carefully diagrammed in the liner notes), the music on Summer Kling sounds a bit like both Sufjan Stevens and Badly Drawn Boy -- minus the vocals -- but less orchestral and less ornate. Not that Blumm's music is simple, but there's a level of sophistication that comes in its lack of heavily piled layers and dramatic entries and exits. Horns play chords and riff along with the guitar, but nothing is overdone. Everything is very purposefully placed and organized within the songs, with lots of repeating phrases, almost as if it were composed by an electronica artist who's carefully placing the musical elements atop and among one another, but because of the live instruments there's still a real sense of the organic preserved. The pieces on Summer Kling are all rather similar, falling into either the "quick and sad" or "slow and sad" categories (a distinction that becomes even more blurred as the album progresses), but they work well together, creating a poppy, lilting whole that manages to laugh and weep at the same time. It's the perfect soundtrack to any independent film, introspective and sad yet vaguely optimistic, which makes it a pretty good accompaniment to anyone else who's feeling the same way. ~ Marisa Brown, All Music Guide
For his follow-up to Ankern, F.S. Blumm modifies his sound ever so slightly, but those small nuances definitely make all the difference. His guitar playing has never sounded better and the instrumentation he surrounds himself with complements his sense of arrangement and songwriting. The instrument list reads like the roll call of a Pet Sounds session -- xylophone, bells, French horn, vibraphone, melodica, glockenspiel, harmonium, accordion, bontempi, Casio keyboards -- all used with a reverential sense of restraint and with a great deal of subtlety that wouldn't be out of a place on a Brian Wilson or Burt Bacharach production. The songs are an equal balance of bliss rock and IDM, with a nice nudge in the direction of simple pop melodies that are graceful in their melancholy. Like many of his labelmates (Ulrich Schnauss, isan, etc.), Blumm pays homage to the influences of the past without getting caught up in a gloss of nostalgia. ~ Rob Theakston, All Music Guide
According to F.S. Blumm's liner note, Lichten ("Lighten") was both named and conceived in direct opposition to his previous album Ankern or "Anchored." Apparently recorded following the end of a relationship, Lichten is Blumm's most minimalist record to date, with his vocals reduced to their barest essence (and most often entirely absent), and the simple, delicate arrangements focused primarily on his quiet, folk-influenced acoustic guitar. Other musical elements, like the muted trumpet on "Zehn Tage," the ambient Eno piano solo "Verlang," and the backwards tapes that make up the body of "Blank" are recorded with exactly the same close-miked intimacy as Blumm's guitar. Indeed, listening to Lichten is a startling experience at first, especially on headphones or high quality speakers: there is no barrier whatsoever between the instruments and the listener. On the closing "Zwete Bohne," the squeak of the bellows of the accordion playing the main melody line is so prominent that it almost becomes a part of the song's arrangement. Several songs, particularly the opening "Tulpen," are simply lovely in a way that experimentally minded composers like Blumm rarely allow themselves to be, and the overall effect makes this likely his most immediately accessible record. [Lichten was also released in a limited edition of 500 vinyl LPs in individually silk screened and hand-numbered sleeves.] ~ Stewart Mason, All Music Guide
The first half of Ankern just doesn't make sense coming from a guy with guest spots on Mouse on Mars records and is one-half of the experimental Sack & Blumm. The light melody and Pat Metheny-esque rhythm of "Folge," would be more enjoyable if Blumm would lift his fingers off the guitar's frets far enough to avoid the disruptive shrieking noise it generates. The next four tracks continue in the Tortoise meets smooth jazz vein before some much needed relief and depth finally arises out of the atmospheric dissonance in "Sprung," while the rolling bass of "Abgebildet," might help to remind listeners the album is still playing. A couple more electronic touches break up the monotony on the second half but Blumm's use of them seems more clever than genuinely inspired. Like the Rachel's most noodling moments, Ankern ends up being a delicate album that's inoffensive when it's on, and wholly forgettable when it's off. ~ David Jeffries, All Music Guide