When she is at her best, Brooklyn-based experimental guitarist Sarah Lipstate is capable of creating work of almost breathtaking beauty.  On this, her debut for Important, she is at her best exactly once.  The rest of album is filled with perfectly likable, if unexceptional, forays into muted ambient soundscapes, but it is the Popul Vuh's Aguirre-meets-gnarled-guitar brilliance of the title piece that makes No Dreams an album worth hearing.  I certainly wish the rest of the album were similarly spectacular, but it feels silly to complain that Lipstate only composed one must-hear masterpiece this year.
Several years ago, when I was still an aspiring musician, I tried to record an album that I never finished.  The problem was that every time I composed a new song, it made all of my previous songs seem comparatively inadequate, so I just kept endlessly starting over again with an increasingly unattainable baseline of quality.  The reason I bring that up is because Lipstate seems to have encountered the exact same problem with No Dreams, but solved it by just putting out everything she had anyway.  That is certainly a much more productive option than total, heartbreaking creative paralysis, but it means that No Dreams is essentially one sublime, stunning piece and a lot of vaguely pleasant (or sometimes ominous) ambient background.  "No Dreams" is not just a centerpiece or highlight; rather, it feels like the entire album's sole reason for existing.
At least, that is how it sounds at a normal volume.  When I play it loudly, No Dreams becomes significantly more compelling, as all of its many complexities and nuances come into sharper focus.  Given the proper volume and attentive listening, songs like the throbbing "Manahatta," the slow-burning, roiling "Purchase," and warmly hissing and swelling "Fighting Sleep" all sound nearly as inspired as the title track.  I guess that makes No Dreams a good headphone album and explains how it wound up as one of The New Yorker's Best Albums of 2013, but I truly wish Lipstate had not smoothed everything over into a gently pulsing and shimmering bliss-haze.  The edges and quirks are what make Noveller unique and they rarely surface here, aside from the overdriven guitar howl of "No Dreams" and a few textures amidst the creepy dissonance of "The Fright."
Ultimately, No Dreams is a curious moment in Noveller's discography, as it arguably contains the single greatest piece she has ever recorded, but otherwise feels like a transitional effort.  There are a few reasons for that, as Sarah has broadened her palette beyond guitar for the first time ever to embrace synthesizers, pianos, and muted beats.  Also, she has spent a lot of time working on soundtracks recently, which seems to have influenced her work enormously.  In fact, most of No Dreams would probably be an excellent soundtrack, as it evokes depth and mood without ever demanding my full attention.  That is not what I want from a Noveller album though.  No Dreams is like going to a renowned steak house and getting a salad–it might be a very good salad, but it kind of defeats the whole purpose of going there.  Stone-cold masterpiece title track and compositional evolution aside, I would have liked this album much, much more if it had been more forcefully and uniquely "Sarah Lipstate."
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