Clogs - Chamber Music by Lantern Light

Largely instrumental, Clogs' music occupies an emotional zone with strongly crepuscular tones, in which every small nuance takes on a truly surprising intensity and imaginative relevance. A poetics steeped in ethereal, melancholic atmospheres, generating a constant flow of emotions.

Born out of a splinter of the celebrated National, the band of mixed New York/Australian origin move masterfully between classical-leaning suspensions, post-rock echoes and avant-folk callbacks. A genre that boldly blends classical music and indie-rock, one that over the years has also been approached by groups like Rachel's, Ethel, Dirty Three, Books and Threnody Ensemble, with whom Clogs have often collaborated in the past.

Sydney-New York, One Way Only

Clogs' roots are planted in Australia, in Sydney, where Padma Newsome, the band's future mastermind, studied violin and performed in concerts from the early Eighties onward. After a brief stint in a remote region of New South Wales, Newsome enrolled at the University of Adelaide, making a name for himself as a student and up-and-coming composer in the early Nineties.

But it's the trip to America that forever changes the outlook of the young violinist and cellist from Sydney. Having landed at the renowned Yale School of Music, Newsome meets Bryce Dessner (guitar and ukulele), Rachel Elliott (bassoon) and Thomas Kozumplik (percussion), with whom he forms a quartet that settles in Brooklyn, New York.

Meanwhile, Newsome and Dessner spend a long stretch playing with The National, an up-and-coming American indie band still far from the acclaim that would later come their way. As a guitarist, Dessner also collaborates with the Bang On A Can All-Stars, a highly regarded chamber music ensemble.

Clogs' initial musical framework is built around a mix of riffs and musical ideas devised both in the studio and during live performances. It's largely a matter of improvisation, then, which Newsome subsequently reworks and rearranges, following a refined narrative musical thread.

This is the blueprint behind the debut album, Thom's Night Out, released on Brassland right at the dawn of the new millennium (2001).

Minimalist and delicate, Clogs' music immediately reveals its elusive nature, drifting languidly from the exquisite violin embroidery of "Yeri All", a mysterious, rustic piece lightly dotted with tribal drums, to the stately march of "Mystery Of Life", whose rhythms even brush up against funky cadences, all the way to the poignant string arrangement of the title track, which distills all their tender melodicism into a formidable crescendo near the end.

It's nocturnal music in the vein of Satie, often mournful and contrite (starting with the self-deprecating title of "I'm Very Sad", with visionary, dreamlike colours in the insomnia of "Sadness And Obsession"), yet always run through with a subtle undercurrent of tension (the Middle Ages reread in a jazzy key on the feverish "Four Blue Poles", the disorienting African exoticism of closer "Ukifune").

Viola, violin, acoustic guitars, bassoon, sax and percussion weave together a blend of fragrant delicacy, skilfully orchestrated by Newsome's sure hand as arranger. The instrumental setup is traditional, but the approach is decidedly avant-garde, not shying away from bold cross-pollination with the languages of klezmer music, medieval monody and traditional Indian melodies. The result is a classically-tinged variant of Nineties post-rock, a polished reworking of the age-old lesson of progressive rock, wedded to the sobriety and minimalism of indie-rock. An experiment so bold that it refuses to wink at any one category or genre, fully aware of the risk of pleasing no one: neither classical purists nor devotees of alternative-rock.

And yet, despite a few facile labels — like "a classical ensemble in hipster clothing", promptly pinned on them — Clogs quickly win over critics, as well as flattering comparisons to pioneering bands such as Kronos Quartet, Penguin Cafè Orchestra, Third Ear Band, Sigur Rós and Godspeed You! Black Emperor.

Chamber Lullabies

Shifting course slightly, the second album Lullaby For Sue (2003) opens up the debut's chamber music to subtle ambient and electronic textures, also sharpening, in a few tracks, the rhythmic component. The result is a more varied record, yet at the same time even darker and more alien than its predecessor. The music flows naturally, as though it were one long, live-captured improvisation. And for the first time a sung track appears, "Gentle We", where Newsome's boyish voice rides a dreamy psych-folk score with a distinctly seventies flavour.

These are intensely evocative compositions, almost cinematic in scope, dominated by a sense of peace and crepuscular spaciousness, occasionally broken by acrobatic instrumental flourishes, like those that open and close the spectacular "Who's Down Now", with its heart-pounding string progressions, or Dessner's insistent acoustic guitar arpeggios that punctuate the crescendo of the nerve-racking psychodrama "Swarms".

Once again their music strays beyond Western borders, venturing for instance into the gamelan textures of "Turtle Soup", while the "classical" soul comes through best in the austere pieces numbered out of sequence: the disorienting opener "No. 6", the delicate "No. 4", the contrite "No. 1", with Elliott's bassoon taking centre stage, and the long excursion of "No. 3", perhaps the most experimental track of the bunch, alongside closer "Limp Waltz".

The title track, on the other hand, with its soft/loud shifts, remains probably the only trait d'union with the post-rock of GY!BE and their ilk.

A thornier and overall less cohesive record than its predecessor, Lullaby For Sue renews all the ambitions of a band eager to break free from any label, as well as from any genre boundary.

What's certainly not lacking is prolificacy: a year goes by and here comes the group's third work, Stick Music (2004), a concept album that Newsome and Dessner describe as "a tour de force", and which, having to contend with the temporary absence of Elliott and Kozumplik, calls on three studio guests: violinist Jennifer Choi, cellist Erik Friedlander and percussionist Tim Feeney.

Branded with a magnificent "autumnal" cover, Stick Music is above all a celebration and a profound exploration, pushed to the very limits of their sonic capabilities, of strings: here the strings are bent, struck and plucked as never before. Yet the result is no icy exercise in chamber music: on the contrary, the music of Clogs appears even more jagged and rich, conceding very little to conventional structures, with the exception of the miniature "Lady Go", where Newsome's falsetto again weaves between curls of guitar and swirls of violin. Newsome is in particularly inspired form, renewing Indian liturgies in the traditional hymn "Ananda Lahari", performed on violin with masterful alternation of "legato" and "vibrato", and even chasing the minimalist frontiers of masters like Philip Glass and Steve Reich - first in the bucolic dance of "Pencil Stick", with its obsessive repetition of guitars and strings evolving as new themes arrive, then with bows beating insistently on violins in the tribal "Beating Stick". A percussive approach that also pervades the exciting trek through the woods of "Sticks & Nails", punctuated by every kind of jingle and tick.

But the music of Clogs above all retains its evocative, imaginative character. So in the half-light of "River Stick" the strings seem almost to mimic the buzzing of insects in a placid lakeside scene, barely rippled by Dessner's guitar, while in the nocturnal "My Sister – Never Ending Bliss" it's faint shafts of viola that disturb the cosmic silence, and amid the evanescent filigree of "Witch Stick" dreamlike visions and pastoral flutterings coexist.

The feverish spasms and Middle Eastern binges of "Pitasi" provide a fitting conclusion to a sophisticated album in which every source of Clogs' music converges, yielding a result of undeniable charm and originality - even if one gets the impression that, on the songwriting side, there's still plenty of room for improvement.

In the Light of the Lantern

That impression is duly confirmed by the classic album of maturity that arrives two years later: Lantern (2006) is the definitive maturation of their aesthetic, the keystone of a sound that is delicate yet austere. Music of extreme intimacy, which drops certain post-rock moods into elegant chamber-music cells.

Opened by "Kapsburger", a reinterpretation of a lute composition by the sixteenth-century musician of the same name, the album proceeds with prodigious elegance and perpetual candor in probing the heart's most hidden movements, the minutiae of the soul that transfigures its magic into an autumnal landscape, as the sun sets.

It's music that sails like a vessel through stormy waters ("Canon"), that creaks within microscopic textures, seeking redemption through swirling crescendos ("Death And The Maiden"), or else resigning itself to a play of rarefaction and timbre as it tries to glimpse possible esoteric visions ("Compass").

Compared to earlier works, where compositions were entrusted either to Newsome alone or to his collaboration with Dessner, this is a group effort, and it shows especially in the harmonious interweaving of the instruments, glittering with sensual charge in the radiant "5/4" (where the violin reaches peaks of pure lyricism) or gathered into a spiral of restless memories within the folds of "2:3:5".

Music to be listened to with eyes closed, to be savored with the heart rather than the mind. A long journey backwards, into zones of half-light that mutter incomprehensible words. And for which even a single lit lantern, timidly lit, might be enough to reveal its wonder and mystery. Just as the tiny, obstinately repeating piano figure in the title track, amid the frailest words sung by Newsome, so too the same plucked strings of "Tides Of Washington Bridge" or those that converse with the strings in "Fiddlegree" mark out a "minimal" field of action, made of emotions as delicate as they are deceptive in the way they play with our condition as humble mortals.

At the confluence of chamber music and blazing spatial electricity, meanwhile, sits the exuberant meditation of "The Song Of The Cricket", while the controlled frenzy of "Voisins" seems to carry us directly into the grooves of an old Penguin Café Orchestra record.

In short, Lantern is a damnably precious record, deserving of real affection. Because, as the solitary piano of "Tides (Piano)" seems to whisper to us, nothing is at times as vital as the destabilizing vortex of melancholy.

Buoyed by near-unanimous critical acclaim and a growing fan base, Clogs this time allow themselves a brief pause: four years separate their mature masterpiece from the album marking their (new) turning point.

The Creatures In The Garden Of Lady Walton (2010) marks in fact a further step in the definition of their aesthetic. Composed by Newsome on Ischia in 2005, the album reflects the impressions sparked by a visit to the Giardini La Mortella, a veritable botanical paradise created by Lady Walton (widow of the British composer Sir William Walton). With contributions from the Osso String Quartet, the magnificent Shara Worden (My Brightest Diamond), Sufjan Stevens, and Aaron Dessner and Matt Berninger (both members of The National, like co-leader Dessner himself), the album also reveals the sunnier, more bucolic side of this small chamber ensemble, with such close attention to arrangement that one often seems to be witnessing a sort of aristocratic transmigration of a sonic universe long chiseled around an idea of melancholy wonder with a twilight charm.

Not that nostalgic touches or moments of languid abandon are missing here (one need only surrender to the delightful Penguin Café Orchestra-like enchantment of "I Used To Do", which continues down the path set out by the multi-voiced jest of "Coccodrillo"), but it's a continuous refraction of even opposing sensations, in a calm alternation of emotional states that nonetheless all reverberate with the same identical will to retreat into a micro-world of timeless visions ("To Hugo"). Worden's sweet, intense voice elsewhere helps deliver moments of purest poetry, fragile in its textures rich with elusive suggestions and pastel tones: the delicate "On The Edge", the hazy, aching waltz of "The Owl Of Love" (perhaps the album's masterpiece) and the lullaby, performed with Sufjan Stevens, "We Were Here". "Adages Of Cleansing", by contrast, slowly gains in complexity, juggling small climaxes and suspended questionings of mystery.

Despite the apparent looseness of the structures, these are actually rather demanding compositions, where nuances reveal internal relationships that are essential to decoding their emotional content. In "Raise The Flag", the strings tint the sky with the sweetest despair, while "Red Seas" (sung by Newsome himself) seems to fish up the shadowy features of Nick Drake, though returned to an exquisitely pastoral dimension (a dimension that, in "Last Song", with Matt Berninger's voice, is torn open by dark premonitions).

Composed entirely by Padma Newsome at his home in Mallacoota, a small, unspoiled gem on Australia's south-eastern coast, the three tracks of The Sundown Song Ep (2013) reflect exactly this sense of simplicity and idyllic calm. The final line-up narrows down too, settling into a trio with Newsome (vocals, viola) joined by the faithful Elliott on bassoon and Kozumplik on percussion. And yet a sense of magic, of deep magnetism, still lingers, even within the linear, ever bare and essential arrangements. Newsome's voice now takes on a deeper, more solemn tone, accompanied by a gently plucked ukulele, with viola, bassoon and subtle percussion in the background.

A sense of absolute peace reigns throughout, as noted, starting with the opening "A Hobson's Choice", a hushed elegy of over six minutes, sung with an almost priestly bearing by Newsome, over a soft weave of viola and ukulele, with occasional supporting vocals courtesy of Susannah Keebler. Even more spare and essential is the framework of "The World Loves Me", where Newsome carves out a tender, utterly simple melody, accompanying himself with a dusty whistling that conjures a spell suspended in time. The circle is then fittingly closed by the enchanting final lullaby of the title track, sung in chorus with the Mallacoota Community Choir: a humble, moving reflection on the twilight of life and dreams.

Formed as a purely instrumental ensemble at the height of the post-rock apotheosis, Clogs have gradually discovered how the art of song can be superbly combined with their music, both by opening it up to greater grandeur – as shown by The Creatures In The Garden Of Lady Walton – and by bringing it back to its purest, simplest form, as on the three tracks of this latest, precious Ep. As if suspended in a dream, Clogs continue to meditate on the world and its tragic "temporal" essence. And yet, this time tears are not merely the most obvious manifestation of a deep pain.

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