Elijah McLaughlin, best known for his improvisations on six- and 12-string acoustic guitar, here switches to electric and brings in pianist and tape manipulator Caleb Willitz, for an expansive set that leans towards jazz but includes elements of rock, post-rock and acid folk.
In the basic set up, McLaughlin plays an electric, often-effected guitar and Willitz does double duty, playing piano with his hands while manipulating tape delay with a foot pedal. The duo expands on several tracks to include a handful of Chicago-based improvisers—Ryley Walker/Black Duck drummer Charles Rumback plays on four of eight cuts, while ex-Mahjongg drummer Josh Johannpeter mans the kit on another. The saxophonist Edward Wilkerson Jr. blows in to part two of “Vespers,” turning what had been a moody, turbulent post-rock epic into something closer to jazz, while bass clarinetist Jason Stein weaves lovely counterpoints into the surge and dissonance of closer “Awakening.”
The disc starts in turbulence. The whole first half rages and surges intemperately (but gorgeously), sounding like Rangda or the louder iterations of Six Organs of Admittance or even Dirty Three. The two-part “Vesper,” for instance, begins with languid, reticent guitar and low rumbles of piano, but quickly gains heft and volume. Rumback’s drumming swells and recedes, a swirling current rather than a linear progression, as the guitar tangles and untangles from the piano. The piece is split into two sections, the first more free form, the latter, sharply delineated and led by Wilkerson’s exhilarating runs on sax. It changes markedly when he enters, heating up and exploring a larger palette of sounds. “Weaving of Smoke” is a big departure, paced by a light but urgent flurry of drumming (that’s Johannpeter) and a more liberal use of electronics. The guitar here is quick and agitated, a rushing pulse against lingering piano tones. It’s a quiet piece, but not a calm one.
The second half of the album is more serene, beginning with “Rest” with its slow rising saxophone sounds amid geometric guitar and piano motifs. “Good Fortune” shrouds its probing guitar lines with a whistling, shivering hum of electronics, while “A Clock for No Time” let the piano slip up to the front, with rolled arpeggios against a restless, non-linear drumming. McLaughlin’s guitar work is fine and inquisitive, probing the boundaries of the loose structures he finds himself in. The cut is lyrical and full of longing; it seems to breathe and sigh and turn like a restless sleeper.
Whether stormy or calm, however, this is beautiful work, abstract but not inaccessible and worthy of close listening.
