Recorded about a year after the series of earlier collaborations with Ambarchi and others (‘Flypaper’, ‘Thumb’ and ‘Honey Pie’), ‘Squire’ is substantially stronger than those pleasing enough if unspectacular efforts. A single piece, it’s dark and grimy in a way the others weren’t, a successor to the approach Rowe had initiated on ‘Harsh,’, in some ways continuing to explore that path for a while instead of the one he’d broken ground on previous summer with ‘Weather Sky’. The effect is at once claustrophobic and cavernous as though the listener is in a vast, unlit space where the nearest wall might be inches or miles away. Rowe employs a bunch of metallic sounds early on, offset by high, insectile bleats from Ambarchi. A number of the elements have their own rhythmic component, from the fan spokes thrumming a guitar string to sine-based throbs to Muller-like blips, all of which propel the piece along in an irregular manner, from one current to another. For the first 25 or so minutes, the impression is of a solid, rich effort and perhaps no more than that but from right around there, where some seismic subsonics emerge, the work takes off into a special realm. The music billows out in a controlled explosion, lighting the further reaches of the cave, eventually subsiding to a handful of embers. ‘Squire’ is less polite than its title, a good recording and one worth hearing. |