The blurb for Kyle Bobby Dunn’s latest opus, his second double CD bonanza for Low Point, claims Bring Me The Head of Kyle Bobby Dunn contains some of the most “brutally honest and complex moments of Dunn’s young career”, but given the quality of his previous work it’s merely another notch in his belt. No attempt is made to expand upon the billowing, sinuous drones of A Young Person’s Guide To Kyle Bobby Dunn or Ways of Meaning, and that’s a fine thing. What we get is two more hours of billowing sinuous drones, faintly tweaked over fifteen subtly varied tracks.
One could argue whether we need another two disc’s worth, but you could just as strongly argue the need for more – this is music with no end in sight, like limitless cubist reflections of a single object. Whether over two minutes (‘Canticle of Votier’s Flats’) or fifteen (‘La Chanson de Beurrage’), Dunn’s language and structure remains consistent: soft, undulating pads built from strings and guitar, winding high, mid and low tones, slowly weaving and collapsing, brought in and out of focus. They most closely resemble Stars of the Lid and Brian Eno, the cushioned sustain of the former, the melodic warmth of the latter, with a remarkable polish and restraint. Perhaps there’s a greater sense of development here, pieces growing in density into faint walls of distortion, but such change is slight and controlled and was possibly present all along. And like previous recordings, Bring Me the Head is beautiful and vital music.