Often music takes a while to grab you, requiring repeated listens over time for the magic to sink in, yet US composer and muti instrumentalist William Ryan Fritch‘ latest album isn’ like that. Which is peculiar. A stylistic chameleon, his music in the past has verged from the fourth world exotica of his Vieo Abiungo moniker to modern classical works of his film scores and is often quite dense, multilayered and takes time for the multiple melodies and percussive flourishes to make their way into your subconsciousness. Yet here there’ a defining moment at the beginning of this album, no less than a minute or so in on the very first piece, A Still Turning Point In This World, that’s akin to being thrown headlong into another world. Suddenly it feels like you’re no longer a passive listener, rather you are actually inside the music. Deep within a warm immersive pool of Fritch’ imagination. What begins as a sparse, melancholic somewhat weighty yet tentative guitar based tune just explodes, and there’ no going back.
It’s a hold he retains for the remainder of the album, an extension of the approach taken on his previous EP, Emptied Animal, with a similarly evocative folk orchestra (all played by himself of course), blurring the lines between sun washed California folk pop of yesteryear and his indie soundtrack music. There’ a real joyous feel of experimentation here, while the structures feel classic and plug straight into the emotions, the depth of ingredients and the instrumentation are a little more left of centre. It must be said though that his soundtrack work, scoring the likes of The Waiting Room and numerous other independent films has provided him with an almost shorthand ability to conjure up pure emotion with only a few initial flourishes. Every piece has you from the outset, leading you gently into its own quite separate little world.
There is real beauty here, light and dark, moments of softness and subtlety and it’s counterpoint, the ecstatic highly immersive bluster. All of the pieces are composed in Fritch’ typically idiosyncratic way, with ever evolving swells of sound, where new sounds (or a new focus on the sound) just seem to emerge from the mix only to be replaced seconds later by something else. There’ a real joy in the journey, in being swept along, yet there’ also heartache, longing, melancholy, fear, sadness and despair hidden in the music. But that’s part of the beauty, a few minutes, or perhaps even in the same song you encounter joy, comfort, happiness and a sense of achievement, of overcoming enormous odds.
The highlight, Bind and Unbind sounds like it could’ve come from a Brian Wilson symphony. It’s epic pop; piano and strings based grandeur, with blazing electric guitar, horns and flute. This is the kind of music you make if you’re trying to elevate your soul, the kind of music you make if you’re trying to achieve immortality -yet without the ego. A beautiful ethereal entirely unconventional stomp that’s so heartfelt and covers so much territory in its four and a half minutes, it will either leave you weeping on the floor emotionally exhausted, or recharged and ready to take on the world. There aren’ words for tracks like this. Or albums like this.
Note it’s part of the William Ryan subscription series.
