This is certainly an early candidate for the most unexpected release of the year, as few people presumably anticipated that James Blackshaw would suddenly start singing ten albums deep into his career.  As it turns out, he handles the transition from guitar virtuoso to singer/songwriter quite well.  The nearest reference point is unavoidably something like Jim O’Rourke’s jaunty Eureka, as Blackshaw at his best displays a similarly eccentric sensibility and appreciation for kitsch mingled with impeccable musicianship and colorful arrangements.   Although Suns admittedly suffers as a complete statement due to a few lulls, missteps, and a wandering stylistic focus, it mostly makes up for it with the strength of its breezy, charming "singles" and a handful of great instrumental passages.
There is a huge difference between being a fine composer/instrumentalist and being a great songwriter.  I can think of very few artists who were able to shine at both, so Blackshaw's degree of success with Summoning Suns is quite an admirable feat.  I did not expect him to fall flat or anything, but I also did not expect him to come up with anything as fun, gleefully macabre, and infectiously hooky as the lead-off duet with Harry Nilsson's daughter Annie.  Also, "Confetti" is more than just a catchy song: it sounds like the work of very good band, as Simon Scott's thumping pulse and Blackshaw's upbeat arpeggios are enhanced with colorful splashes of piano and a great string crescendo.  While "Confetti" is admittedly quite indebted to the aforementioned O'Rourke, it also towers over the rest of the album and seems to be what Blackshaw does best.  Also, Jim does not seem to be using that style any more, so I say it is fair game.  Curiously, however, he never revisits that vein again and spends the rest of album trying on different stylistic hats with varying degrees of success.  Also curious: Blackshaw seems to be at his best when he is at his most lightweight, which is an odd talent for an erstwhile Current 93 member to possess.
The second tier of highlights is comprised of "Failure’s Flame" and the title piece.  Initially, the slow-moving and melancholy "Failure’s Flame" does not sound especially promising at all, resembling a decent Elliott Smith song with more intricate guitar-work.  Around the half-way point, however, the drums and vocals drop out and the piece transforms into a lushly beautiful guitar, flute, and piano outro.  "Summoning Suns," on the other hand, boasts an instantly infectious guitar hook and a pleasantly laid-back, shuffling pace.  The brief, totally anachronistic opener ("Averoigne") is another great moment, but it sounds like it belongs on a completely different album.  I have no idea which Blackshaw album a gorgeous major key organ and glockenspiel interlude could possibly have fit on though, so maybe it actually makes perfect sense that it wound up on an influence-juggling, "anything goes" gamble like this one.  In any case, I love it, regardless of how out of place it seems.
The remainder of the album consists of two definite non-highlights and yet another pleasing aberration.  The first lowlight, "Nothing Ever After," again returns to Elliott Smith territory, but does not offer any particularly great twists to elevate it above its general mopiness.  Then "Towa No Yume," a sleepy Japanese-language duet with Kaoru Noda, comes along and saps the momentum still more.  Finally, the album concludes with "Winter Flies," a great steel guitar instrumental that probably would have sounded perfectly at home on Blackshaw’s excellent The Glass Bead Game.  I am not sure how or why it ended up where it did, but it at least ends the album on a strong note.
As a whole, that all makes Summoning Suns a very perplexing mixed bag as a coherent artistic statement, as it feels far more like a collection of outtakes and compilation tracks than anything resembling a new album by a formidable and established artist.  I have no idea why Blackshaw thought that all of these songs belonged in the same place, unless he was attempting to hedge his bets in case his unexpected reinvention as a singer/songwriter was poorly received.  Even though the weaker songs made me wince a bit and I was dismayed by how openly derivative certain moments were, the real story here is what worked rather than what did not work.
Despite its considerable flaws, Summoning Suns is still mostly composed of great songs and some of them are quite gutsy.  I never expected anything as dynamic, hooky, and bouyant as "Confetti," for example.  Also, even some of the less surprising pieces stand among Blackshaw’s finest work.  More important still, I love that Blackshaw is game to take such big chances this deep into his career and I also love his unwillingness to keep revisiting what he has succeeded with in the past.  Consequently, Summoning Suns is ultimately quite an impressive and adventurous album, albeit one with plenty of asterisks.
 
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