Andrew Liles continues to take the familiar and turn it into something warped, something weird. Now, however, he's doing it in a perhaps unexpected way. Concertos normally have three movements and are typically composed for a solo instrument and an orchestra; the piano is the only proper instrument on this record. Liles, however, makes sense of it all plays the piano in a way that has me looking at the instrument in a whole new light.
Beta-lactam Ring
A dying submariner, lost in some dismal cinema of murky water, frightening aquatic life, and the weight of death literally on his shoulders is all the artwork for this release sugggests to me. The blind eyes, exposed teeth, and pale complexion on the cover are supposed to say a little something about the dive suit seen inside the packaging. When those first hidden piano notes begin to rumble like a monster rising from the depths, it is easy to think that the rest of this album is going to be a dark ride, the first and last adventure of someone who is unaware of the danger lurking below.
The Dying Submariner..., however, reminds me more of a classical fantasia, a whimsical adventure worthy of far more color and infused with a life equally as complex as the zoology of creatures suggested by the artwork. There are minor chords struck by Liles' piano playing, but there is also a flurry of activity that skips about in the music, very noticeable in the closing moments of the first movement and readily apparent at other times in each of the other pieces. This could be contributed to how naked much of Liles' performance is. While there is no orchestra to make this a concerto proper, the reverb of the title does add a sense of accompaniment. By itself, however, is Liles' beautiful writing and performance, standing above the simple reverb and feeding off of it simultaneously: eloquent and poetic at times, it conjures a sense of depth and emotional content, and then harsh and invigorating other times with the full range of fear, anger, and confusion instilled in Liles' heavy handed strikes and melancholic strokes.
Each track brings a different thrill despite the monochromatic possibilities inherent in arranging for a single instrument and effect. Liles makes beautiful use of the piano's voice, letting it ring out and sing in a way that reminds of Claude Debussy's work at times. Despite the crushing weight of the water, of depression, of doubt, there is a sense of hope and happiness in the way the instrument is played upon. There can be no doubt of the darkness surrounding this piece, however. So, at other times, Liles exposes the instrument as a rotten beast, coughing and hacking into tunnels so deep and dangerous that man hasn't dared to touch their mysteries. Liles continues to outdo himself over and over again. I know he's played with Nurse with Wound, but comparisons between him and Steven Stapleton make as much as sense as comparisons between Salvador Dalí and Georges Bataille do (that is to say that comparison is becoming null and void, the result of a genre's name moreso than a result of any musical similarity). Liles voice continues to grow more unique and more diverse with time. This album should not be missed.
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