Foxy Digitalis
Sam Wenc’s Post Moves project creates moments of stillness while never actually sitting still. His engaging approach to composition and, especially, his use of pedal steel builds unseen connections between expression and reflection. If this music imagines sonic spaces for us to look inward, the result is a bridge to some unknown place. Recall the Dream […]
The slow crawl toward death leaves scratched-out messages in the dust on “Bobcat Sarabande,” the closing track of Old Saw’s forthcoming album, Sewn the Name. Banjo strums and 12-string reveries plot our demise, creeping on top of the skeletal tones from Ira Dorset’s fiddle. Purpose is defined as the reason for which something exists, and in […]
Shades of sonic waves flicker into view during the opening moments of Post Moves & the Sound Memory Ensemble’s new album, Recall the Dream Breath. Sam Wenc pulls back the curtain here, stripping down his sound to let the sun shine directly on his music’s core. Pedal steel hymnals are the guiding light throughout “Lorraine’s,” imbuing […]
Bob Driftwood sits at the center of a prismatic room. Light is split across the spectrum, revealing smoke-filled liminal passageways into the deep woods. Hidden messages dance in the subtle ultraviolet movements, chimes glistening against the wind. Everything’s on the table as Driftwood’s gentle plucks open a direct line into vacant time, his words stinging […]
UNIONBLOCK, the duo of Weston Olencki and Jack Langdon, comfortably situate themselves within a vortex of dichotomies on their debut. Thetford, named after the town in Vermont where the duo recorded, mixes Olencki’s sharp, discordant prepared banjo odysseys with Langdon’s somewhat more restrained organ workouts. Together the disparate palettes – one grating and jarring, the other […]
As the sun breaks over empty fields and sullen fog, “Dead Creek Drawl,” the opening track on Old Saw’s Country Tropics rises. This is the music of ancient soil; sonic wanderings imbued with the dirt of countless generations, saturated with the blood of our ancestral homes that, try as we might haunt us like anchored ghosts. […]