Review: William Tyler stands as one of the most influential solo American guitarists of this century. Having played with Silver Jews and Lambchop, he's carved out a singular space for himself, with albums weaving country roots and classical influences with postmodern experimentation; he melds field recordings and static drifts for a sense of imminent boundlessness, recoverable just over the hill. Drawing on inspirations from Chet Atkins to Gavin Bryars, from electroacoustic abstraction to hypnotic boogie, Time Indefinite - his first solo album in five years - hears Tyler reimmerse himself in said sound, reflecting on the hiss, distortion, and rawness of a turbulent era. With eerie loops and luminous melodies, Time Indefinite is an essential soundtrack for fostering resilience.
Review: The American musician and guitarist newest album is a collection of compositions that balance melancholia with quiet defiance. From the disorienting, tape-warped opening moments to the album's delicate final waltz, Tyler crafts an introspective instrumental landscape where the past and present converge. 'Cabin Six' starts with a hazy, found-sound texture, its distant hum of static giving way to Tyler's contemplative guitar. It's a track that feels suspended in time, evoking the isolation of its recording process. 'Concern', in contrast, unfurls a luminous melody atop warm strings, the steel guitar lifting the piece into a realm of understated grandeur. It's among Tyler's most affecting compositions, a quiet affirmation amid uncertainty. On 'Star of Hope', the album's spiritual centerpiece, an AM radio-sourced hymn weaves into Tyler's delicate loops, creating a ghostly, celestial resonance. The interplay between organic and electronic texturesitape hiss, processed echoesigrounds the track in a space both intimate and otherworldly. 'Electric Lake' shimmers with ecstatic drone, its weightless progression nodding to La Monte Young, while 'Howling' sways between ambient pastoralism and an undercurrent of discord, its background noise a restless specter. The album closes with 'Held', a sigh of relief wrapped in a gentle acoustic waltz. The ever-present tape warble lingers, a reminder of unease, but Tyler leans into beauty. Time Indefinite is a triumph of instrumental storytellingione of quiet reckoning, but also persistence, offering solace in its hypnotic, evocative swells.
COB (Clive's Original Band) - "Eleven Willows" (4:06)
Comus - "The Herald" (4:17)
Review: Way back in 2004, Sanctuary Records commissioned pre-Britpop pop hipsters St Etienne member and serial compilation curator Bob Stanley to put together a collection celebrating the British 'acid folk' movement of the late 1980s and early 1970s. Long deleted, the previously CD only compilation is finally returning on vinyl - this time in expanded form, with the inclusion of additional tracks and a few picks from its (also unavailable) sequel. It's a superb set all told and one that showcases a take on folk heavy on effects, unusual rhythms, sweet vocals, horror-adjacent sounds and pastoral but otherworldly instrumentation. A few well-known names aside, it's a genuinely deep dive too - as you'd expect from someone of Stanley's knowledge and experience.
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