ESPERS - Espers

If purity could be measured in moments stolen from the ordinary flow of daily life, we'd say Espers represent purity in its most uncontaminated form. Because their record manages to abstract dream from reality, enchantment from the concrete; because their music is a dive into an everlasting limbo, where sound has been crystallized into a single instant stretched to infinity. Greek Weeks, already the author of two fine solo efforts, together with Meg Baird and Brooke Sietinsons form the core of this Philadelphia band (here at their debut), authors of high-class psychedelic folk steeped in the lessons of Fairport Convention and the Incredible String Band, seasoned with the timeless, evocative fatalism of the queen of darkness, Nico. Yes indeed, Espers play a kind of psychedelic folk, sad and dreamlike music, at times disorienting, especially when electric peaks come to violate that innocent acoustic flow.

Eight ballads, eight small precious jewels that excel in songwriting and arrangements, already perfect and mature — not like a debut band, but like yet another record from a collective in relentless pursuit of musical perfection; Espers have already achieved it on their first try. Sinuous and evocative, "Floowery Noontide" unwinds as a perfect opening track, revealing to sensitive souls that uncontaminated dream world inhabited by the enchanted frailty of Joni Mitchell, by Sandy Denny's golden music boxes radiating stardust. "Meadow" is a finely crafted temporal short-circuit, where the synergistic vocal fusion of Baird and Weeks is accompanied by a host of strings floating in the background, counterpointing the delicate strumming of the guitar; as moving as the best of Dirty Three.

Even the noisiest feedback is steeped in ecstatic sweetness, as in "Riding", which starts out acoustic and unfolds into intriguing psychedelic digressions. There are many echoes of the past, of the glorious age of British folk, but far from being mere revivalist impulse, since the sound of Espers feeds on the sensitivity of its authors, on an evolved vision of music unafraid to experiment while still respecting tradition; direct proof of this is "Travel Mountains", a kind of psychedelic spiral that incestuously blends Popol Vuh, Fairport Convention and Charalambides, as alluring as the sibylline call of a siren drawing sailors into a stormy sea.

In "Voices", a majestic celebration of the band's own origins, a carpet of strings in static progression, reminiscent of Silver Mt Zion, cradles memories of times past in the form of whispers and melancholy blends of ancient sounds. While "Byss & Abyss" evokes the fairy-tale worlds of early King Crimson, the record reaches its definitive realization in its simplest composition, "Daughter", guitar, voice and strings for three minutes and three seconds of languid estrangement from reality.

An incredible record, an indescribable experience, songs that manage to reach the darkest recesses of the human soul and grant them a light that is faint yet flourishing at the same time.

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13/12/2006