Dugré’s playing is excellent throughout, subtly shifting his tonal palette between songs in order to suit each musical scene. “Living Language” opens the album with chiming 12-string acoustic, backed by a melancholy string arrangement that brings to mind Robert Kirby’s work with Nick Drake. On “Powder Rains” he switches to the woody timbre of a nylon-string classical guitar, doubling the lines on muted electric guitar, patiently mapping out the song’s intricate terrain. The electric guitar playing on “Wing” is reminiscent of the mercurial Ben Monder, tracing inquisitive arcs that are soon joined by blooming pedal steel and percussive crashes. The down-tuned acoustic guitar of “Lumima” stalks the lower registers while bluesy pedal steel slowly glides around the song’s perimeter. 

Though Three Rivers’ material is consistently strong, two of the record’s finest moments are situated midway through the album, signalling a shift into more tense, cinematic territory. An eerie guitar line winds its way through the shadily atmospheric “Stalking Horse,” the melody of which is then echoed on the piano of the following piece, “Shining,” co-written by Will Graefe. At five minutes, “Shining” is longer than many of the other pieces here and features a glowing electric guitar melody and brooding string arrangement that brings the piece to an uneasy climax. 

Overall, Three Rivers is an expansive and reflective listening experience that belies the urgency of its initial creative impulse. It’s fitting that it ends with perhaps its two least eventful pieces, “In the Silence” and “Glace Bay.” Largely unaccompanied, save for a smattering of pedal steel and synth, these two succinct songs bring the listener’s mind back to Three Rivers’ inception: Dugré alone at his guitar, feeling his way towards fresh creative directions.