Reverence is a powerful force that shapes the way we hear music. Matmos' most recent record channeled that force and constructed new music for outsiders and artists of strange history. Ekkehard Ehlers' approach is different; if the past haunts the present, it is evident in how this music sounds, not in how it was created. The deep dark blues are alive and well, swelling up in new places, but telling a hauntingly familiar story.
My heart belongs, in part, to the blues and to country music; even folk music occupies a special place in my heart. Everyone from the infamous Robert Johnson and John Lee Hooker to Leadbelly, Hank Williams Sr., Jimmie Rodgers, and Chet Atkins occupy some space in my collection. It's not hard to hear why people are still attracted to this music; the absolute recklessness with which so many young musicians handled themselves lends itself to modern application and the music resonates with stories that everyone is familiar with on some level. The appeal is human, in the soul, deep down in the stomach where the blues seem to settle and feel most comfortable (or uncomfortable). Ehlers has already paid tribute to Robert Johnson once before, on his Plays record, but his approach was distinctly electronic and modern. The music was enjoyable, but the editing techniques and various effects applied were oblivious to the organic qualities of old 78 records and gritty guitar work. A Life Without Fear is a new approach to an old craft, one that carries the very spirit of the blues in it despite all its surreal references.
The album begins with a guitar being tuned in out of the ether. Like a ghost out of the dark it shakes, warps, and then snaps into focus and the Mississippi Delta Basin unfolds. Blue skies, white clouds, dark green grass, and intense heat. There's mosquitoes in the air and a dirt road winding hazily into dust. The effect is immediate, but this is no effect, nor is it a sample. Ehlers has employed a band to carry out his vision this time, so instead of sounding distanced from the source material, Ehlers and his group dig right into the ground and get their hands dirty. The opening song, "Ain't No Grave," is listed as a traditional piece of music, furthering that history-centered effect the guitar confers. Not content, however, to mimic what he reveres, Ehlers leaves no stone unturned in applying story-telling to his work. If the blues ever did anything, they told a story or warned of coming trouble, detailing every lone moment, dirty deed, and passionate outburst in the book. Fittingly, then, A Life Without Fear sounds like a story. The CD begins to spin and it is as though I've just turned on an old Zenith wood-frame radio, glowing radial dial and all. Actors, actresses, sound effects, and comedy all pour out of the old speakers in a mash up of music and pulp literature. The music is as much blues as it is collage and plenty of stray sounds wonder in like dogs out of the rain while guitars strum, slide, and snap over a fire of songs.
As the album progresses, Ehlers introduces new techniques and new sounds to the mix, moving the album from Mississippi to the labors of guitarists like John Fahey. While he cannot recall the virtuosity of someone like Fahey, he does invoke his spirit. The guitar playing begins to sound classically trained as harmonics pop up like crystal sparks in the music, surrounded by the echo and reverb of a muted string. Trumpets appear in one song and in another it's as though tribal music becomes confused with Latin rhythms and Caribbean instruments. The transition from the blues to this new sound is smooth, however, Ehlers traveling back and forth with ease, introducing one to the other as though they were old acquaintances. The thick molasses that consumes the end of the record settles everything into a deep sleep, bringing the album down from its excited buzzes and swinging guitar. I can imagine sitting on a porch somewhere, lit only by a kerosene lamp, and watching the river go by, along with the night.
Ehlers takes the blues and moves with them, refusing to sit comfortably among the accomplishments of other musicians. Ehlers takes what he loves about the genre and adds his personality to the music beautifully. But he doesn't travel so far that the music becomes blurred and unrecognizable. Ehlers ends the album with Ralph Stanley's "O Death." Instead of remaining an a cappella performance, this rendition adds a cacophony of reverb-drenched guitar rumbling to a strange, almost yelled take on the vocals. This is as far away from the original material as Ehlers could've possibly gotten without completely tearing the tune apart, but then again Ehlers didn't exactly stay perfectly true to the source material anywhere else on this disc. A Life Without Fear is a great take on a style of music whose popularity has spawned plenty of no-talent hacks. Thankfully, Ehlers' interpretation is both tasteful and exploratory.
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