Play One Note

Psychedelic music blog covering psychedelic, folk, drone, metal, and all other forms of out music.

Posts tagged with ‘tower recordings’

P.G. Six – The Well of Memory

April 10, 2010

p.g. six the well of memoryP.G. Six’s second album, The Well of Memory, works on deepening the gorgeously repetitive sound of his debut, Parlor Tricks and Porch Favorites.  The engrossingly nimble harp and fingerpicked guitar playing are still there, but they’re  even more hauntingly rendered.  At the same time, The Well of Memory also finds the free-folk performer turning toward more song-based arrangements, which makes for higher highs and lower lows.

Those highs largely come in the album’s first half, with “Come In/The Winter it is Past,” “Old Man on the Mountain,” and “Crooked Way,” three songs with linear song structure that hover around the five-minute mark and that are each characterized by an incredibly hypnotic depth.  In each, some fundamental elements change–the stark banjo picking of “Come In,” for example, compared to the hushed, enveloping male/female harmonies of “Crooked Way”–but the overall effect is of otherworldly, eerie warmth.

So, in a way, The Well of Memory more of the same, with only some minor tweaks.  But those tweaks are important, making for some much more arresting material.  In retrospect, however, it also signals a continuing trend away from the anarchy of Tower Recordings, his previous band with Matt Valentine.

Like many projects with multiple songwriters, Tower Recordings was a middle ground between two of its primary members.  (For what it’s worth, I’m not discounting the contributions of third mainstay Helen Rush.  I’m just choosing not to enter her into the equation since her post-Tower work has been largely collaborative, not solo-oriented, so I can’t easily determine what she brought to the table.  Ditto with Tim Barnes and any other regular contributors.)  Valentine’s vast output since the band’s dissolution has been characterized by visceral experimentation and an embrace of bloody, lively chaos–all nominally within the strictures of American folk and psych-rock traditions.  With his music, whether it’s an abstracted drone piece or a primal, grimy electric jam, it’s always messy and immediate.  Gubler’s approach, conversely, has been one of restraint, both with his rate of output and with the calm, assured music he creates.  Call it what you want, but it would be impossible to describe the cyclical guitar playing and subdued vocal delivery of “Old Man on the Mountain” with any synonym of “immediate.”

And yet, counterintuitively, it’s Valentine’s music that largely leaves me cold, while I compulsively listen to (and am consistently entranced by) Gubler’s work.  Like I mentioned in my initial post about P.G. Six, it’s his restraint, combined with his absolutely arresting delivery (both vocally and instrumentally), that keeps me coming back.  Really, writing about these two first albums so much has been so rewarding, if only because I get to listen to two of my all-time favorite albums with a critical ear.  It’s been a wonderful time.

And then there’s Slightly Sorry, whose very existence pains me, especially because you can tell, listening to it, that Pat Gubler hasn’t completely lost it.

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P.G. Six – Parlor Tricks and Porch Favorites

April 7, 2010

p.g. six parlor tricks and porch favoritesParlor Tricks and Porch Favorites is the first album by folk musician Pat Gubler, who records under the name P.G. Six.  In 2001, when the album was released, Gubler was in seminal free folk/noise folk/improv folk collective Tower Recordings.  They were a formidable outfit that released an indeterminate number of albums in a wide array of traditional and non-traditional formats, as bands of their shamanic ilk (Vibracathedral Orchestra, Charalambides, Sunburned Hand of the Man, Jackie-O Motherfucker, et. al) are wont to do.  Parlor Tricks and Porch Favorites is at once an extension of the avant-folk themes Gubler pursued in Tower Recordings and a welcome respite from his primary concern’s cluttered clatter.

It is, above all, an album of hushed moments, of quietly contemplative beauty.  And it’s all complemented perfectly by Gubler’s singular voice, which manages to be entirely arresting while remaining incredibly limited.  To compare it to any other set of pipes is probably a misstep on my part, but for point of reference, imagine Calexico singer Joey Burns, sans nasality, with a bucolic lilt.  (Pretty specific, no?  I’m trying here.)  That may not sound that special, but Gubler’s abstracted, crystalline arrangements multiply the calming effect of his vocals, rendering them wholly hypnotic.

And this music is, absolutely, crystalline and hypnotic.  The hushed, circular guitar picking of “Unteleported Man” creates finely tuned and enveloping figures.  Chiming overlays of harp and washes of droning flutes and reeds act as counterpoints, at one point interrupting the guitar playing.  Gubler gently hums along.  That’s it.  But for over six minutes, the effect is completely entrancing.  “Go Your Way” might be both more abstracted and more lovely, featuring mellow flutters and trills on a harp and subdued lilting by Gubler for a good four minutes.  Stately bodrhan-esque drumming joins in for another four.  And when I refer to harp playing here, this isn’t Joanna Newsom-level stuff here.  This is absolutely sublime work.

Compared to his subsequent album, 2004’s The Well of Memory, Parlor Tricks and Porch Favorites is more of a piece, sporting a much more unified sound from beginning to end, and lacking the highlights and missteps of his sophomore work.  (I really, really don’t want to get into his third solo album, Slightly Sorry, but I feel more and more like I should.)  Parlor Tricks and Porch Favorites is pastoral and seemingly effortlessly intricate.  It’s underrated.  It’s beautiful.

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P.G. Six and Intuitive Virtuosity

March 31, 2010

p.g. six


It’s fair to say that I listen to the music of Pat Gubler, who records solo material under the P.G. Six name, as frequently as the output of any other artist.  Obviously, there are those I hold in higher regard, and there are those who I pay more lip service to.  I’m not about to spend my time taking Gubler’s singularly eerie and comforting recordings and holding them toe-to-toe with, say, Tom Waits’s artistry.  Let’s be honest–that would be unfair.  What I do want to point out is the absolutely arresting and enveloping atmosphere Gubler is consistently able to conjure up.  In my five years of listening to P.G. Six and Tower Recordings (his previous primary concern, a collaboration with another gut-level, if considerably messier, songwriter in Matt Valentine), I have never once gotten tired of dipping into his entirely submersive sound.

The way he achieves his highly distinctive aura is by striking a balance between restraint and filligree, affording every instrument played and every line sung a finely wrought sense of craft.  This isn’t just me trying to squeeze out pretty words, here: P.G. Six’s songs ultimately set themselves apart with a clear sense of deliberate consideration.  It’s this sense that Gubler truly cares and has a clear, lovingly rendered goal in mind that helps make the first 5 1/2 minutes of “Quiet Fan for SK,” a cut off 2001’s Parlor Songs and Porch Favorites which consists of nothing but Gubler’s distracted, sparse guitar playing, an arresting, intimate moment, and not a mess of pointless meandering.  Of course, when that song finally opens up, patience is awarded with a quietly gorgeous–and carefully considered–unfolding.

This sense of craft is no less in effect when Gubler hews closer to traditional song structure.  The detail on the two-minute “The Divine Invasion,” also on Parlor Songs, is very reserved, but again, the muffled drumming and bits of reversed guitar seem like carefully mulled-over choices, and they contribute a rich and comforting depth to the song.

Even when Gubler shared songwriting duties with Valentine in Tower Recordings, his contributions proved uncommonly inviting and introspective, especially for what is allegedly largely improvised music.  His distinctievly nimble yet hypnotic guitar picking and languid voice are in full effect on “Ibiza Within You,” off of 2004’s The Galaxies’ Incredibly Sensual Transmission Field of the Tower Recordings.  These typically Gublerian elements, welded to the busy clatter and clutter associated with the Tower Recordings, make for one of my favorite songs of all time.

I’m writing a lot, but I might not be getting exactly what I want to say across.  Here it is: there is an inherently reassuring element to the way P.G. Six plays his instruments.  After all, plenty of obsessed studio wizards sweat over every detail and make music that leaves me cold.  In a way, it’s the sense that Gubler actually approaches songcraft intuitively, somehow knowing on a basal level what will work and what doesn’t, that draws me to him.  This is the “intuitive virtuosity” I referred to in the title of this piece.  There’s something deeply beautiful and warming to this thought: a man picks up a guitar and, without thinking, pulls finely rendered genius out of it.


I’ll be posting discussions of P.G. Six’s first two song-based albums, Parlor Tricks and Porch Favorites and The Well of Memory, soon.  Maybe I’ll also write a little bit about why his most recent effort, Slightly Sorry, was such a let-down.  (Edit, 4/23/10: I obviously did, and it is a little more than “a little bit.”  Oops!)  But I don’t want this space to be excessively negative, especially to someone whose music means so much to me overall.

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