#high aura'd

There are four tracks, all rather lengthy, two from Feinberg followed by two from Kolodij. Feinberg is perhaps the better known of the two, having led the guitar-centered Citay and lent a hand in the folk-rocking Dry Spells, but now engaged in ambient drone solo works like Recumbent Speech, of which Bill Meyer noted in last week’s Dust, “The synthesizers shimmer and cycle like something from a mid-1970s Cluster record, resting upon a pillow of vibraphone and electric piano tones, which in turn billow under the influence of undulating layers of drums.” John Kolodij records as High Aura’d and Gemini Sisters. His If I’m Walking in the Dark, I’m Whispering reviewed at Dusted in late 2018 was mysterious and beautiful, building “songs out of watery, indefinite washes of sound, sudden brightly focused elements and oblique references to traditional folk and blues.”

Feinberg leads off with “Figure and Ground,” an undulating interleaving of sustained tones that slip over one another like transparent sheets of color, creating new hues as they meet and separate. If I had a speculate, I’d say the slow blooming synth tones are the ground, the flute, played by Robbie Lee, who is perhaps best known for his work with Josef Van Wissem, stands in as the figure, though Jonas Reinhardt also sits in on analogue synths and makes a mark as well. Feinberg’s second track, “Castle Sand,” foregrounds the guitar a bit more, though surrounding it in the same sort of drift and swirl and echo, and also brings in a bit of soft, resonant piano.  

Kolodij’s tracks are likewise serene, though a bit less tethered to unaltered, organic sound. His “Beyond the Fragile” takes shape out of barely audible oscillating squeaks and hums, coalescing in a shifting penumbra of deep toned guitar sound. Acoustic guitar traces a Takoma-style picked path through surreal atmospheres and ghostly roars. “The Geometry of Space” also begins in quiet, a whoosh of air surrounding notes just short of subliminal sound. The piece edges closer as you listen, with bell-like notes dropping amid a faint turbulence of bowed sound. Dylan Baldi from Cloud Nothings blows in with a bit of sax, long fluttery notes skittering across the deep quiet.

Both artists work patiently with sounds, staying present in moments that stretch on indefinitely, without seeming to long for resolution or catharsis. This is music for sitting absolute still, looking inward.

This is the second High Aura’d release this year for Cleveland-based composer John Kolodij, and he also released the really lovely Gemini Sisters record early in 2018.  Like that Gemini Sisters recording, If I’m Walking builds songs out of watery, indefinite washes of sound, sudden brightly focused elements and oblique references to traditional folk and blues. The main difference is that Gemini Twins uses heavily processed vocals as a route to unearthly aura; these cuts rely almost entirely on guitar.

As in Daniel Bachman’s The Morning Star, American primitive style picking flits and filters through a hall of mirrors, sounding like a dream of the blues, a half-corroded memory of folk music, as it threads through glowing unreal landscapes. As with the Bachman, the real world occasional makes a cameo appearance. A hint of sirens keens in the side B, “I’m Whispering” though miles and miles away.

This is not a record you can rush through. On side A, you wait four minutes and 36 seconds for the first unaltered strum, but it is well worth it. The guitar tone is hauntingly clear and lucid, like Hisato Higuchi. With time, it gains weight and friction and dissonance, a rasp of conflict in two overlayered melodic lines. And then, it pulls in on itself, folding back into a sea of drone, an inchoate tide of tone lapping up around guitar sounds and slowing covering it over.  

“I’m Whispering,” the one with piano, lets high notes ice through the gloom. They ring luminously amid smoke banks of soft amorphous hum. The effect is not quite classical, but nowhere near folk either, serene and simple like Max Richter’s piano compositions. In the last third of the piece, a breezy, bucolic guitar enters in, changing the piece entirely and making it more accessible. Yet even as the flurry of folk-picked melody makes you comfortable, a strange echoing drone brings on a chill. The music is lovely, but not quite what it seems.