Rae Howell – Invisible Wilderness

As I edge ever closer to silence in the realm of music reviewing, consistently struggling to find things to say, it can be the most tenuous connections that draw me back to writing. Over 10 years ago, not long after settling in Melbourne, I saw The Sunwrae Ensemble supporting post-rock band This Is Your Captain Speaking, and wrote about the gig for Luna Kafé. Considering 'Sunwrae' isn't exactly the jackpot of Google search terms, it's no surprise that Rae Howell, former leader of The Sunwrae Ensemble, got in touch in the hope that I might be interested in reviewing her latest release. Howell has relocated to London, and recorded this album in the US, but she returns to Australia this month to support its release.

Invisible Wilderness is, dauntingly, a double album of solo keyboard compositions. The first disc is the more traditional presentation, a relatively 'pure' recording, performed on a Steinway concert grand, the Rolls Royce of pianos. The second disc introduces the delectable tones of the Fender Rhodes electric piano on a few tracks, such as the gorgeous 'Train In The Night' and the plaintive, jazzy 'Do You Mind'. And, in a similar vein to Nils Frahm's Felt, the recording often foregrounds the incidental piano noises that most engineers seek to minimise: the gentle thrum of the hammers on the strings; the creak of wood; the gentle squeak and clack of the instrument's pedals.

Considering this release comprises, for the most part, nearly two hours of solo piano, I'm surprised how seldom my interest wanes. (Admittedly, it is the kind of music that's easy to pop on in the background while reading or working.) The two tracks that appear on both discs in slightly different forms – the title track and 'The Owl & The Eagle' – predictably feature the album's most memorable melodies. The album's longest piece, 'Faraway Castle', is reminiscent of Yann Tiersen's wonderful soundtrack to Amelie. And 'Synapse', the brief but haunting closer to disc two, is a tantalising taste of potentially fruitful future directions.

'Synapse' contrasts markedly with 'Incognito', the first disc's second track, a cruelly early juncture at which my misgivings about this album first arose. Cloyingly saccharine, the piece wouldn't sound out of place in a sentimental movie soundtrack, and is especially conspicuous among the more restrained moods of the other pieces. Another misgiving about this release mostly concerns its length. Disc one stretches to nearly 70 minutes, which is a demanding duration to focus on nothing but solo piano. Disc two's 47 minutes feel less like an endurance test, mainly due to the variety in tone and the emergence of more engaging textures. (However, separating the divergent styles across the discs robs the listener of potentially interesting cross-fertilisation between the approaches.) A further, minor criticism is that, considering the sophistication and elegance of the music, the cover art is ill-fitting in its cartoonish simplicity. 

I feel grateful to have been introduced to this ambitious release, one that is frustratingly broad, yet often disarmingly beautiful. Future listens will no doubt unearth greater depths.

Hidden Shoal artist profile: Wes Willenbring

Wes Willenbring

My initial intention was to run through the Hidden Shoal catalogue alphabetically, but a new single by Wes Willenbring has just been released, so I'm jumping ahead. Wes creates the kind of immersive, atmospheric music that bleeds masterfully between moments of sweet repose and queasy melancholy. The closer attention you pay to it, the more layers of meaning it reveals. As such, I can imagine his music providing the perfect soundtrack to slow-moving, reflective visuals.

Wes’s songs revolve around the primary elements of guitar and piano, the sounds expertly disassembled, reconstructed and manipulated to create minimalist atmospheres that draw equally from the sounds and moods of Leonard Cohen, Erik Satie, Earth, Brian Eno, Coil, and others. Across three albums, his attention has shifted gradually from more focus upon piano on his debut album Somewhere Someone Else through more varied pieces on his second album Close, But Not Too Close, to longform works on his forthcoming third album Weapons Reference Manual, which features new single 'The Consequences of Reckless':



I've included 'The Burrow' from Close, But Not Too Close on my compilation of atmospheric/ambient tracks from the Hidden Shoal catalogue featured on Soundcloud:



Plus, you can follow Wes on Soundcloud to sample tracks from across his excellent discography:



If you're interested in licensing Wes Willenbring's music for your creative project, please contact tim@dots-and-loops.com

Hidden Shoal artist profile: Antonymes

Now that the archiving of my music writing is out of the way, I can get on with the business of profiling the awesome Hidden Shoal artists whose music is available for licensing via dots and loops. The Hidden Shoal catalogue spans a startling array of genres and styles, from minimal, delicate ambient to heavy, rhythmic indie-rock. Nestled beautifully at the minimal, delicate ambient end of the spectrum is Antonymes.

Antonymes

Antonymes is designer, photographer and musician Ian M. Hazeldine, who is based in Wales. Ian's recorded output to date is characterised by sparse, thoughtful piano melodies, exquisitely rendered atmospheric textures and a truly cinematic approach to sound. His music is perfectly suited to moments of reflection, scenes of nature, and narratives that unfurl slowly and deliberately.

His album The Licence To Interpret Dreams was released to widespread critical acclaim in 2011. It comprises 12 beautiful pieces, including the single 'Endlessly', which is featured on my YouTube channel:



Another of Antonymes' songs, 'The Slow Beginnings of a Fragile Acceptance', which opens The Licence To Intepret Dreams, can be streamed on Soundcloud as part of an atmospheric/ambient compilation I've put together:



If you're interested in licensing Antonymes' music for your creative project, please contact tim@dots-and-loops.com