(March 2010) Close, but not too Close is the stunning second record from San Francisco musician Wes Willenbring, released by the good people at Hidden Shoal. Over the past few years this Australian label has established a reputation as one of the premier places to discover shoe-gazing minimalism, and this album is no exception. The 8 tracks, driven mainly by guitar and/or piano with slight electronic tinkering, straddle a fine line between modern classical and drone. It’s very expressive music, painting ghostly images of barren wilderness and
other forms of magnificent desolation.
I don’t know if anyone else noticed, but it seems as
if every other record I stumble across now-a-days is exploring a
similar sound pallet. I wonder if there are enough classically trained
piano players making low-fi sound sculptures for us to christen a new
sub-genre “classical piano drone/electronics” or “calpdronica” for
short? All kidding aside, Willenbring has crafted a splendid piece of
music, offering deeply stirring currents of textural beauty that
surpasses all but a few of the artist constructing similar
soundscapes.
This type of music certainly encourages looking for the little
things, trying to search out individual notes submerged in a sea of
reverb, and Close, but not too Close has a lot of aural Easter eggs waiting to be discovered. However, I found this album’s greatest
hidden treasure to be its tongue-in-cheek song titles. It seems
Willenbring is well aware that somber down tempo numbers like these
can all too often come off as pretentious and stuffy, and he is safe
guarding against this by lampooning himself. From the opener “I’m
Looking Forward to Your Funeral” to the closer “The Anti-Social
Aesthetic” the majority of titles seem to be mocking the depressed
vibe of the music itself.
The album begins with a slowly modulating melody of
indeterminate source, maybe a clarinet, maybe a pitch-shifted voice or
both, merging in and out of each other. This establishes a theme of
almost imperceptible background music that Willenbring rarely deviates
from. Close, but not too Close is less a collection of songs then it is pure mood, an audible fog that seeps from speakers to bathe home stereos in frozen moonlight. It is the moments when Willenbring wakes from this reverie and complements his whispered curtains of sound with more conceptually focused instrumentation that Close, but not too Close reaches its full potential. The best example of this is “My Ghostly Fingers” a mesmerizing arrangement of multiple piano layers and clarinet that begins crystal clear, then slowly dissolves into an amorphous cloud of melodic washes. Top notch musicianship like this is what separates Close, but not too Close from most minimalist musings.
The only complaint I have with the album is that by and large
the guitar work is of slightly lesser quality then the piano and horn
melodies. It is not that there is anything necessarily lacking with
them, it’s just that I’ve heard a million dreamy guitar washes and
while Willenbring’s are as adept as any, he is not really doing
anything new. Even within this weakest point one finds flashes of
greatness, as Willenbring pulls off some fabulous atmospheric sheets
of sound from his guitar. When it comes to lead melodies, he just
seems more comfortable with other instruments. Ultimately a very nice
listen, an excellent representation of its genre with timeless moments
that transcend any known musical definition.
Close, but not too Close is out now on Hidden Shoal. [Listen & Purchase via n5-Mailorder]
