This album documents the convergence of all kinds of wonderful things at once: Students of Decay, Andrew Chalk's artwork, Rashad Becker's mastering talents, and two of my favorite West Coast experimentalists.  Appropriately, the resultant music is both excellent and distinctive, resembling an eclectically assembled chamber music ensemble trying their hand at understated, improvised drone music and realizing that they should have been doing that all along.
I opens with its boldest and most ambitious piece, the 9-minute "Parting Lights (Suite)," which combines Croy's rapid and repeating koto arpeggio with McCann's groaning cello and something that sounds like a Japanese flute emulating a small flock of chirping birds.  Gradually, that chaos gives way to a densely undulating web of Sean's melancholy bowed strings before transforming yet again into a lovely koto solo, before finally coming back around to a variation of the opening theme.  I am not entirely sure what to make of "Parting Lights," as it is impressive that these two Californians have managed to create something that sounds like ancient Eastern ritual music, but it feels a little too busy and condensed for me to completely fall in love with it.  The more languorous and fluid pieces that follow are much more to my liking, even if they are a bit less unique.
To my ears, it is the shimmering, dreamlike, and gently groaning drone of the similarly lengthy second piece ("Alexandria") that steals the album.  While there is not anything particularly overt that separates it from work by a number of similar-minded drone artists, there are a number of subtle touches that elevate it into something quite special.  In particular, the production is quite striking, as it sounds like Croy and McCann are collaborating with other musicians located on the other side of a vast cathedral.  Also, the variety of textures is quite wonderful too, as the duo maintain a perfect balance of seemingly untreated violin and cello, more harshly metallic koto, and warmly blurred strings.
The four comparatively brief other pieces that remain are all quite good as well, however, and admirably avoid repeating any ideas from the lengthier openers.  "Momiji," for example, is built solely upon a strong descending koto theme enhanced with some beautifully bittersweet violin accompaniment by McCann.  The following "The Inlet Arc" unexpectedly sounds like a glacially slow variation of "Momiji" being played in a cavernous, warmly reverberating room, but feels completely different.  "Column of Mirror," on the other hand, reprises the fairly straightforward drone of "Alexandria," but transforms it with some very absorbing and vibrantly quavering metallic buzz.  I then concludes on an unexpectedly beatific and celestial note, as Croy's koto in "Hollow Pursuits" evokes nothing less than a cherub idly plucking a harp on a cloud as McCann's strings swell around him.  While that is perhaps not my genre of choice most days, it is nevertheless an impressive feat and a very effective illusion.
Admittedly, a few songs do not work as well as others, but I went into I with fairly high expectations and they were mostly exceeded: this is quite an inventive, nuanced, and likable effort.  Aside from just being a successful pairing of two excellent and similarly minded musicians, I is a very skillfully edited and produced album as well, presenting the duo's ideas in the most effective way possible.  I suspect that that is probably McCann's handiwork, as I was first exposed to him as a producer rather than as a musician, but Croy may still have secret talents that I am unaware of (and, of course, one can never discount the impact of Rashad Becker).  In any case, I sounds great and it is great, as I would be hard-pressed to find another piece in either artists’ discography that tops something like "Alexandria."
 
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