A series of improvisations based on the sea, Low Cloud Means Death sees guitarist Tetuzi Akiyama, percussionist Kevin Corcoran and accordionist, pianist and general musical mastermind Christian Kiefer engaging in some sparse instrumental dialogue that falls somewhere between Morton Feldman's glacial compositions and the patient interactions of Henry Threadgill's Air while maintaining a subtle, near folksy chordal palette.
If the ocean is indeed the inspiration here then this is an awfully loose interpretation aside from the track names. Where the ocean is an intimidating force whose scope is vast and untamable, this work is actually quite intimate and delicate in feel. Each sound is given ample space to make itself known before the ever-present silence (maybe this is the oceanic representative...) makes clear its presence once more, infusing the work with an atypical warmth and physicality rather than its standard role as an evoker of tension.
The lengthy "Drowned Arch" opens the disc by setting up its loose and relaxed sonic environment. Kiefer's piano trickles its notes about with clean flourishes that ring in near classicist drama while Akiyama's guitar floats beneath with angular, folkloric storylines somehow simultaneously reminiscent of Loren Connors and Derek Bailey. Given that the approach of the group is as spare as it is, Corcoran's percussion is often limited to brief punctuations and soft textural statements, a task which he approaches delicately and with a fine ear. Despite its length, the work has the same sense of drifting mobility as the rest of the album.
There is a near lazy approach here, never rushed or alarmed but always steeped in strange dissonances and eerie sonic spaces. "The Vision Ship" sees Kiefer pumping his accordion to create a voluminous, undulating drone for Akiyama and Corcoran to dabble atop on. The song's ship makes itself apparent in the form of slow wooden creaks that are perhaps a bit obvious; conversely, these are wholly submersive sounds immediately and easily associated with that very specific sonic moment, and the trio keeps the sound from becoming trite with their continuous interactions atop it. Kiefer's accordion improvisations around the creaks are as odd and intriguing as anything on here, often sounding nearly electronic.
While minimal improvisation has surely been done before—often with mixed results—this trio seems to have found their own angle on it. It is refreshing in these experimentally fertile times to hear a group doing something of this ilk without electronic assistance, a quality which allows for maximum control and instantaneous response times. The result is an intimate and, apparently, oceanic affair. Let's just take their word on that if it creates music this good.
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