Kranky
I always like knowing that Mark Nelson is involved in a new album. Whether he's involved in Labradford, in a collaboration with another musician, or is writing music as Pan?American, Nelson's compositions always come as welcome, quiet, and warm embraces. Quiet City, his fourth Pan?American album, is a much different recording than 2003's The River Made No Sound
, but it maintains the calm and pacifying sound that has permeated all of Nelson's projects from the beginning. Alongside rainy pulses and misty keyboard flourishes are the seductive sounds of an upright bass, guitar, trumpet, and flugelhorn. Their presence in Nelson's writing only adds to the spaciousness of the songs; they never make the electronic peace too busy nor do they take away from rattle and wash of the near sub-conscious percussion. The entire record moves together like a creeping cloud, but there are standouts that can't go without mention. The 9-minute engagement that is "Wing" plays like a waterfall easing in slow motion towards an unending abyss. Its harmonious ring of low and subtle keyboards, tribal dub-rhythms, and erratic scratches and pops was intoxicating enough to keep me pressing the back button a few times before I was willing to move to the song. The folk-like "Inside Elevation" bares a fragile guitar that slow-steps in and out of a near-accordian complement and blends into the suprising and pleasing "Skylight." The opening is remiscient of deserts and folk-music to me, but the heart of the song is band-centered and has a certain nobility to its organization and melody. When I say band-centered I mean that there is a definite drummer, guitar, voice, and bass arrangement, but it is accompanied by what sounds like a full brass orchestra and Nelson's consistently supple electronics. Song after song is a relaxing and simple relief from the any and everything that is busy. While I expected this much from Nelson, what caught me off guard was how well-written every one of these songs are. The songs on here aren't just epic forays into estranged sound, they're pieces of melodic silk that breathe and twitch with a human likeness. A casual listen to a song like "Het Volk" will reveal exactly what I'm talking about. The poppy and child-like keyboard sounds grace along like a classical composition while the the flugelhorn plays like some slow jazz on a lamp-lit street corner. The combination is irresistable. This is the way that the electronic and acoustic combination should be done. After a while I wasn't even conscious of the fact that there were different elements being used. The product of their masterful fusing is greater than the parts being fused.
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