Ian William Craig has re-recorded six tracks from his Centres LP. Retaining the previous versions` examination of memory. Where love is a lost landscape. Remembered in the process of forgetting. But largely forgoing the heavy sonic-processing. Constructed on the road. With only piano, guitar and voice. And a, by necessity, scaled down, touring model of his 18-deck “cassette choir.”
The ambience of the room where they were recorded – in a single take – amplified. Nebraska tape hiss like rain against a window. Delay dissolving the separation between the two instruments. Craig`s angelic voice moved into the spotlight.
The fragility of the results had me thinking of Bon Iver`s For Emma, Forever Ago. Justin Vernon`s three months in a Wisconsin log cabin. Contrasted with Craig`s hotel sickness / motel loneliness. Ferries, trains, planes and airports.
Still hymnal in places. Dominican. Gregorian. A lover`s prayer. Across a veil – rather than a wall – of sound. The noise of a phone-line, cut off, left hanging. Where that voice is an emotional beacon in the fog.
I still hear someone giving up to the light of letting go. Craig`s “haunted weather”, so blue its near black. But concealing clearer skies just a moment away. Songs of those first mornings waking alone again. The sun greeting you. Playfully taunting you. Kicking your arse. Asking you to, “Come on”, celebrate a new day. Not dwell on the past.
Jeff Buckley singing Leonard Cohen`s Hallelujah is the closest comparison I have.
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