Solitude, solemnity, tranquilityThe Finnish kantele, a 5 to 32-string, triangle-shaped zither with a distinctive bell-like tone, is customarily an instrument of the solitary musician, reserved for private, in-home playing by firelight in the late evening. In the old days, few kantele players performed publicly, so few ever witnessed their musicianship, aside from family members and curious woodland creatures. Ambient folk duo Nest meditate on the rich heritage of this instrument, which is as integral to the band’s sound as it is to the culture of their native land, with Mietteitä, a surprise release that surfaced in late August 2015. The album consists of 25 improvisations presented warts and all alongside the occasional traditional melody. Its aim is to offer a glimpse into the old way of kantele playing, where musicians played for themselves, letting their fingers dance along the strings in profound connection with the instrument. As the subject matter suggests, this journey is a personal one. Nest Founder Aslak Tolonen is clearly envisioning specific images while playing these tracks. Moments throughout the album’s 1-hour, 16-minute runtime succeed in evoking the aged musician being carried away under the spell of an ancient tune, wrapped in thought, free of time (“Jokin vetää puoleensa”, “Metsä herää”). Others perhaps wander a little too far and long, but such is the risk of allowing music to flow so organically. The approach is a fairly stark contrast to Nest’s previous efforts. Whereas past records paired synthesizers, Lapland drums, and voice with kantele melodies to aurally capture the atmosphere of vast snow-covered landscapes or the hidden pools and waterfalls in the woods, the music of here is markedly more pensive and intimate. If Trail of the Unwary embodied bold forays into the unknown, Mietteitä is more akin to weathering a summer storm in a faraway, derelict cabin. The music is more tethered to tradition and only features a handful of experimental qualities. Tolonen soaks his playing in a deep echo and punctuates it with sparse percussive elements. Warm ambience swells in an out of earshot and wah pedal textures a few pieces (“Kietoutuneena, kätkettynä”, “Virtaus”). This style lies at the heart of Nest’s music and never before has the core been so exposed. The result is entrancing, but at times it is rendered somewhat inaccessible by its intensely personal nature. Some may be view this as a shortcoming, but overall, [i]Mietteitä[/i] beautifully conveys a centuries-old tradition with the respect it deserves.
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A melding of worldsThe many faces of Steve Von Till become one on his 2015 outing A Life Unto Itself. More than a solo record, this evocative seven-song collection feels like a culmination of all the gravelly-voiced guitarist has absorbed during 25-plus years of music making, hinting at the incomparable heaviness forged by Neurosis, subtle acoustic mosaics of past solo ventures, and sonic arrases braided under the Tribes Of Neurot and Harvestman monikers. The history presented on A Life Unto Itself is rich, evident, and shaped by experiences that only many years bestow, making it Von Till’s most monolithic solo statement to date. Previous solo recordings hinged on a rather traditional approach and mostly garnered inspiration from American and European folk music. With A Life Unto Itself, Von Till expands his horizons by pooling his influences to assemble an overall greater whole. The haunting folk songs a la 2008's A Grave Is A Grim Horse have been merged seamlessly with dark, droning psychedelia, subtle Celtic touches and a deeper Americana-flavored lament to create a new set of sinuous, slow-burners. The songs remain founded on an arid six-string and Von Till’s distinctive baritone, but are now fleshed out by grainy vintage synthesizers, groaning pedal steel, and tremulous viola, which wind through the expansive arrangements as an open and genuine Von Till reflects and ruminates on foregone visions and memories. This fresh blend not only bares the soul of its maker in its all-inclusive brew, it adeptly conjures vast images of Von Till’s native Idaho landscape, which undoubtedly lent no small amount of inspiration to the mix. The folk template remains largely intact, but Von Till experiments with a few approaches that have hitherto been foreign to his eponymous works. A ghostly, delayed electric guitar theme buttresses a howling solo and brawny doom riffs on “Night of the Moon” and a two-chord piano flourish drives “Chasing Ghosts”, offering a welcome reprieve from the album’s otherwise predominant guitar presence. Other highlights include the windswept pedal steel harmonics and hazy crescendo of the poignant title track, the thunderous climaxes of “Birch Bark Box”, and the layered vocals that elevate closer “Known But Not Named” to its the ritualistic denouement. Fans of Von Till’s primary band who are unfamiliar with his side projects may find the contrast startling. This album is decidedly less heavy than Neurosis’ most introspective moments and the stripped-down aesthetic may disappoint those expecting Earth-rupturing power. However, those willing to set aside preconception and immerse themselves in this record will be amply rewarded. A Life Unto Itself finds Steve Von Till at his most diverse and at the top of his game. There are moments here that cut to the core. Ravaged yet romantic invocations for a long winter Hibernal gloom dawns in the first moments of Nature and Organisation’s ultimate album Death in a Snow Leopard Winter as a lone, grave piano sounds the sparse notes of a simple theme. In time, crooning violin, viola, and cello hoist the melody from the hoary earth and expand upon it before sending it back, leaving it even more desolate than before. What transpires from there serves as the score for mourning a lost loved one by the fireside on a winter night. The mood is often cold, like the sensation of tears freezing to the face, but not without the glimmering warmth of some misplaced hope. Composed in the autumn and winter of 1997-1998 by Current 93 contributor and first-generation neofolk bastion Michael Cashmore, Death in a Snow Leopard Winter is an oft-overlooked pearl in an understandably maligned genre. Rather than leaning on industrial pomposity or baseless political sentiments, these 12 unnamed tracks reap inspiration from contemporary classical music and feature nothing more than Cashmore’s piano and string quartet accompaniment. The result is a stunning record that could be considered Cashmore’s absolute masterpiece. Subtitled "A Dream of Joy in a Sleep of Sorrow", the album is remnant of an incomplete work, a larger musical vision abandoned by Cashmore for personal reasons. Once there was a grander design for the music on display here. The arrangements were to be fleshed out by oboe, flute, bassoon, timpani, and vocal sections, but were cut short for one reason or another. Still, Cashmore opted to release the collection as is “in the hope that it may still be of interest to at least some people as a documentation of a work that was in progress.” A full orchestral version is certainly more ambitious. Without that final product in hand, the disappointment may be comprehensible for some, but Cashmore is perhaps selling himself short by labeling the album as unfinished. The fragility and minimalism is what regularly fosters the music’s appeal. These compositions, which alternate evenly between delicate piano passages and full sweeps of strings, are unceasingly beautiful in their sparsity. Cashmore displays his uncanny skill as a pianist with these ravaged yet romantic invocations for a long winter, performing with Debussy-like grace and intimacy as the emotive swells of strings saunter in and out of earshot. Slow crescendos that falter before their peak capture the human condition of striving for but falling short of one’s potential. Really, nothing more is needed. Long out-of-print, Death in a Snow Leopard Winter saw a long-awaited remaster and reissue, alongside its seminal predecessor Beauty Reaps the Blood of Solitude, in the two-disc compilation Snow Leopard Messiah, which was released in September 2015 via the German label Trisol. This is fortunate, because this record, though considered incomplete, is one of few examples of an album that fully transcends the genres that bore it. |
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