AIDAN BAKER “Deer Park” (Muzan Editions)

Yeah, this view – from way up, you wonder what’s under there. “Deer Park,” that is, or is it – still not sure what I’m looking at, how to feel.

“Here in Japan, deer are messages of the gods.”

The release of Aidan Baker’s “Deer Park” “was timed to coincide with [his] solo tour through Japan,” and it is a slow, inexorable crawl, not remotely a sprint or even a meander. A drift, maybe – moments of time to ponder place and physical imprint of living beings upon it.

What we see on the cover may be the space, but the mystery is ours alone to discover.

Baker the master drone-ist wields his guitar, accompanies it with bass and a light smattering of drum machine – rhythms like hesitant rain – and channels something infinite and real and internal through four tracks of spiritual discovery. A heavy veil of melancholy blankets “Deer Park,” but light peeks through at opportune moments. That’s how you begin to understand yourself.

“Deer Park” is just a guide.

You’ve gotta listen closely. You may be hearing those messages from the gods, delivered by the deer, “in their raw untranslated form.”