With Quiet City, his fourth full-length release as Pan American for Kranky,
Mark Nelson delivers another elegiac exploration of the subtle city spaces. Quiet City is a crossroads of sorts, a meeting of the sparse electronics of his previous two records with the live instrumentation strewn throughout his first release. Nelson’s minimalism is an attempt to strip down the blustering beats of techno and the resounding echo of dub into granular whispers of sound.
The upright bass of “Shining Book” is barely there, just the faintest pluck of sub-sonic weight against your spine. “Inside Elevation” crackles with dust and distant thunderheads while a Morricone-style guitar slowly falls apart. A harmonica sings a sad lament to the rising tide of dust that sweeps through abandoned streets. The guitar comes back to life for “Skylight” and brings with it a rhythm section that blows in like a tumbleweed rolling through town. Steven Hess and David Crawford provide drums and flugelhorn for “Het Volk,” and Hess’ drumwork adds a slow rotation to Crawford’s wandering brass like the endless thrum of tires against grooved pavement. The static crackle of “Wing” seems almost like an afterthought or a transmission artifact against the elongated glissando tones or the tiny rustle of mechanical parts. This is all part of Nelson’s immense charm as Pan American: how he manages to take minute elements of sound, remove another layer as if by the delicate abrasion of fine-grained sandpaper, and arrange all the pieces in a manner which turns them into a carefully arranged peregrination of sound.
He even sings on three tracks — “Begin,” “Shining Book,” and “Skylight” — evoking 360 Business / 360 Bypass where he enlisted the aid of Mimi Parker (from Low) for vocals. His nearly unintelligible voice is the faltering murmur of a sleepy preacher drifting off in the rectory while he awaits the eventual arrival of his flock. Think Windy & Carl meets Low meets Pole.
Mark Nelson’s work has always evoked cerebral dreams of late night driving — the fading lights of the city falling away behind you, the endless quiet expanse of the countryside stretched out ahead of you (an impression gorgeously summed up with “Lights of Little Towns,” the closing track of Quiet City). Pan American always leaves me with a sense of nostalgia for the restful silence of the very early morning hours when the glow from the mercury vapor lights is playing firefly to the rose and orange line that is starting to build on the horizon. Nelson went out and shot some video, and includes an album-length video montage on DVD for Quiet City. Not surprisingly, the short films are close to what you imagine from the music. Well, except for the polar bears. I wasn’t expecting to see polar bears swimming through water. That was a treat.
Quiet City is out now on Kranky Records.
