#digital delay

Several tracks from this projectstarted out as a COVID-era project, when Kaiser included among the regular YouTube videos that he posted from lockdown with shout-outs to recently passed musicians, such as Steffen Basho-Junghans and David Lindley. Over time, the partings tend to proliferate. Kaiser found himself with ten mostly-solo tracks that shared two criteria: they memorialized fellow travelers who adventured with him upon or under the ice, or who made music, films or musical instruments; and they continued Kaiser’s decades-long determination to do more with the guitar than it previously had been able to do. These became Mahalo Nui.

Born in 1951, Kaiser has now lived long enough to know loss in ways that Fahey could not when he recorded Requia in 1967. Across its two sides, Fahey dug deep into sorrow and respect, and also let fly some ill-focused antagonism. You’ll some sorrow on Mahalo Nui, particularly on the sole non-solo performance, a slide guitar trio in honor of David Lindley. But you’ll hear a lot more joy and gratitude; the album’s title translates from Hawaiian as Thank You Very Much. “Hard Time Killin’ Spoonful Requiem For Paul Hostetter” mashes up Derek Bailey and Skip James gestures with more glee than rue; perhaps Kaiser assembled the performances from licks that the late luthier loved? The glistening tones and complex timbres of “Antarctic Requiem For Liz Sutter & Bija Sass,” which is named after two of his fellow Antarctic travelers, evoke a state of drifting wonder and weightless solace.

In 1990, I caught a Kaiser solo concert and came away as impressed with the looming height of his effects rack as I was with his music. He’s never been afraid to indulge the possibilities of technology and technique, and there have certainly been times when they have gotten the better of him. That never happens on Mahalo Nui. The occasions when he foregrounds technical interventions, such as the school of psychedelic blurs on “Mysterious Requiem For Paul Plimley” and the real-time combination of scything slide guitar and MIDI-controlled piano notes on “Some Of The Great Ancestors Inside My Guitar,” pay off real musical dividends. This record makes a strong case for both the technical and emotional aspects of Kaiser’s art. One caveat for those who prefer physical formats; if you go to Kaiser’s Bandcamp page, this title is only offered as a download. However, it is also available as a CD if you’re willing to search a bit.