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.
Elijah McLaughlin Ensemble II by Elijah McLaughlin Ensemble
The Chicago group, which features Elijah McLaughlin on 12- and 6-string guitars, Joel Styzens on hammered dulcimer, and Jason Toth on upright bass, returns two years after its eponymous debut with the descriptively titled II to deliver a fresh set of drones and overtones that seem to issue from some chasm deep in a forest. The emotion and excitement that these three players sustain over a taut 36 minutes are remarkable, with the individual tracks seeming to form a kind of suite.
Opener “Zodiac Rabbit” establishes the basic template: the combined plucking and hammering of the guitar and dulcimer blend in a wash of mid-range atop shafts and pulses of bowed or (somewhat less often) pizzicato bass. Pastoral passages build to crescendos, with all three musicians remaining fully engaged throughout and fading out together at the end. Similarly propulsive is “Spring,” which erupts in a flurry of notes through which the bass pulls a haunting melody. A lull in the mid-section creates the space for the tension to build again, and there’s a great moment at 4:00 when Toth, having switched to pizzicato, switches back to arco.
Among the more meditative pieces, the atmospheric “Arc” floats slowly along on a bed of bass, and the vaguely country-ish “Viroqua” winds along like a trip through the hilly part of Wisconsin that the title apparently references. The stately “Effigy,” with strummy guitar and a lovely ascending and descending bowed bassline, hints at some dark mystery.
Points of reference include, to name just two, the Powers-Rollin Duo, in which the hammered dulcimer is used to somewhat different effect, and Pelt circa Pearls from the River in the interaction between Jack Rose and the various drones—but nothing sounds quite like this trio. Styzens coaxes an amazing range of sounds from his instrument, which is suggestive, at turns, of a mandolin (“Interlude”), pipa (“Confluence”), piano (“Blind Valley”) or twin of McLaughlin’s guitar (frequently and effectively). McLaughlin for his part switches back and forth seamlessly between fingerpicking and flatpicking (or rather thumbpicking) arpeggios in the manner of Basho and Blackshaw, sometimes very rapidly (“Wheel,” “Spring”), while at other times he hangs back and plays chords (“Arc”) or provides supportive and/or melodic strumming. Toth’s bowing is notable for both the clarity of the tone, which is at times indistinguishable from that of a cello (“Spring”), and the strength of the sustain, which allows him to fill the spot of a keyboard or shruti box player as well as contribute melody.
Where II represents a progression beyond its uniformly excellent predecessor is in the blending of the voices and the greater drive in the tunes. Styzens, in particular, has found a way of filling the space between his bandmates that makes the whole seem far more than the parts. Also, the emphasis this time around is even more on the “Ensemble”: tellingly, whereas the players enter sequentially on the opening track of the previous record, on the opener for this one, they come in in unison.
In these respects, the title II, even if ironic, is unfortunate. Far from being more of the same, this release both refines the approach and suggests that much remains to be explored in the sonic landscape mapped out by this trio.
