As Blue Lake, Jason Dungan makes music that crosshatches two disparate genres: the distinctly American, experimental guitar data made by artists like Yasmin Williams and Steve Gunn; and what is perhaps referred to as the “new Danish scene,” populated by avant-garde songwriters together with Astrid Sonne and ML Buch. However Dungan doesn’t match neatly in both class; the Copenhagen-via-Houston composer and artist is an ingenious traditionalist at coronary heart, crafting a mix of drone, people, and ambient that feels attuned to his Texan residence—with riffs that sound like outdated nation ditties—regardless of being made an ocean away. Billed as a “mini-album” previous an as-yet unannounced bigger launch, his newest, Weft, is a snapshot of the Blue Lake challenge in movement because it additional braids collectively masterful precision and naturalistic experimentation.
Weft begins virtually precisely the place Dungan’s 2023 debut album, Solar Arcs, left off, setting his beloved nylon string guitar atop a mattress of cello and gently brushed drums. Like water flowing from one eddy to a different, he’ll catch a melodic chorus, spend just a few bars with it, then transfer on to the subsequent. The album’s title refers back to the work of Dugan’s companion, Maria Zahle, a weaver and textile artist whose piece “Torso” seems on the quilt. Its particular person strands of coloured thread, barely affixed to the fabric beneath, function a useful visible metaphor for a way Dungan gently ushers sounds—together with piano, melodica, and 12-string guitar, all of which seem extra ceaselessly and prominently right here than on Solar Arcs—out and in of the combo, making his preparations really feel populous, however by no means cluttered.
This expanded instrumentation is put to its biggest impact on Weft’s longer compositions. “The Forest” broadly follows a linear development of construct, climax, and denouement, however its magic second comes proper earlier than the two-minute mark, when crystalline treble tones cohere, on the entrance of a bass riff, into one thing resembling a basic pop tune. In the meantime, the live-recorded “Tartara” options the one musicians apart from Dungan to look on the album and is, appropriately, much more meandering. Named for a volcano within the Chilean Andes studied by his geologist father, the meditative, drone-adjacent piece contains discovered percussion, courtesy of Dungan, that evokes the crackle of sparks within the air—like a campfire singalong composed for neo-classical quartet.
Regardless of radiating a delicate, unassuming tranquility, Weft hardly ever bores. A part of that may be credited to the engineering work of Jeff Zeigler (a previous collaborator of fellow zither savant Laraaji), who lovingly attracts consideration to every instrument: a piano flourish right here, a flute line there. It’s additionally as a consequence of Dungan’s personal artistic playfulness, which extends past his recorded music to incorporate working the artistic residency house Polychrome alongside Zahle and designing his personal customized zithers. One such creation—this time with 36 strings—is the only instrument on “Strata,” Weft’s spare closing notice. It’s a pleasure to listen to Dungan’s method: all of the giddiness of a kid with a brand new toy, and all of the talent of the person who made the toy himself.
