Acoustic apocalypse / slow-mo explosion for guitar and banjo and double bass and a few other expertly wielded, wooden sound boxes from the fabled, early 2000’s Pelt line up of Jack Rose, Mike Gangloff and Patrick Best.
Highest pedigree crew on board indeed - first real contact I had with any of them being Rose and Gangloff’s contribution to that hefty thatch sleeved, triple barrel dogg pound - “By The Fruits You Shall Know The Roots”. Ever since then, after a very good friend (Bress AGAIN) put it in my most obliging paws, that mobs work in particular has stuck as an ideal continuum of North American primitivism and a perfect, contemporary distillation of all the Eastern influenced mysticism with which it got so entangled. Amazing record that one. After recent review and subsequent collection semi-skimming it stands fast in the pry-it-from-my-cold-dead-hands / NEVER sell bundle.
Very soon to be joined by this vinyl incarnation of “Pearls From The River”, which was previously released as a limited edition CD. The opener “Up The North Fork” laying the foundational, undulating drones that hold the whole LP in place and allow the stripped back, harmonic complexities of the guitar and banjo sorcery to flourish. An expertly measured drone-dose (one that could only be administered by these most experienced of acid-folk lords) runs dry around the six minute mark, where the opener transforms into a rushy, celestial climb and the overcast, cyclic sitar-mimicking shadows depart and make way for a passage of acoustic interplay that is every ounce as assentive as it is pulverising. The title track is twenty minutes of sombre but somehow ever-accelerating, fret-shredding fury that echoes across the empty desert. It swirls and stirs into some sorta lucid, tumbleweed trance that drifts in every direction - the notion of getting lost but a novelty to this trio of graceful day-trippers. Total mastery. The kinda record that will get infinite plays over this way.