Andrew Weathers’s explorative output has been a consistent
blend of beauty and serenity over the past six years, from overtone worshipping
organic minimalism to lo-fi, humble folk-ishnesses, releasing material under
his own name, as well as a plethora of other projects.
This most recent offering finds him at his most meditative
and wise -as is par for the course for how CT releases go- and AW here crafts
mantras of American primitive bent, both electric and steel string acoustic (a la
Steffan Basho-Junghans’s ‘Late Summer Morning’ plodding meanderings) with
accompaniments of Newer Age-y shifting swells of droning synth, organ,
electronic manipulations and field recordings, as well as the occasional banjo
embellishment. The focal points trade off seamlessly, like relay runners in
slow motion, under water.
Honestly, I’ve listened to this album about ten times now and
have started to assign subjective moods, mostly saccharine/montage-y, to the half
dozen or so movements, especially those that re-visit the main theme/riff of
the album’s opener, and I could easily see this being a b-side soundtrack to
the fucking Wonder Years. Maybe Fred Savage is Andrew Weathers’s spirit animal?
and/or
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- Jacob An Kittenplan
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