I am prone to gushing enthusiastically on most music posts here because I usually only write about music I enjoy. Still, I need to get something out of the way quickly:
The Amber Sessions is magnificent. Here’s why:
Jo Gabriel’s album lives alongside its darker sibling The Last Drive In. They’re both naked instrumental recordings borne out of musical passion – a boundless urge to create and to express emotion. The Amber Sessions is also a 4 track affair, but definitely not lo-fi (apart from occasional tape drop-out.) Indeed, the unexpected richness and depth of the recordings is to be admired, and yes, it’s stunning when played loud.
Synthetic string pads and processed loops form the bedrock of much of the album. Jo’s piano accompanies their shifting sounds, diverging at will or brushing across them. Although centred around progressions, it darts off periodically to embrace song structure. Subtle dissonance emphasises the melodies and sometimes the piano falls away completely, to let the accompaniments peek through, unadorned. These tiny moments are breathtaking. This clash of the simulated with the real is critical to the mood and success of the album.
Considerable attention has been given to the sequencing of the pieces, so whilst it’s possible to cherry pick individual tracks that work on their own, the album is probably intended to be heard as a complete work. It can be intensely consuming. Curiously, The Amber Sessions also excels as ambient music – the choice is yours.
Introduction to this landscape comes in the form of the opening tracks Sway, Flicker and Crush. Sway immediately generates tension due to the slowish attack on the lower strings, which rub against the organ drones and chord-less piano lines. The melody changes subtly, incorporating additional pads to round off this slow starter. The shorter Flicker picks up the pace, but cuts back on the melody. Here, little sonic experiments begin to emerge – a trait which considerably enriches the second half of the album. Crush uses abrupt organ stabs and delayed piano to tease out variations in rhythm, relishing the space it has been given.
Delightful though these are it’s only when Moments Like Drops arrives that the first fully realised tune unfolds. Here the piano deviates from its previous excursions through greater variation in tone and dynamics. Only a cycling plucked instrument keeps it company. Savage Bliss continues on this new course, re-introducing the organ and strings, then constructing recurring cascades of harmony and modulated tempos. By now the importance of those first three tracks becomes obvious.
Passing / Arriving temporarily returns to that isolation with crumpled samples and screeches but chooses to re-invent itself twice, firstly as lounge music, which confines the piano to one side, then again by adding strings, becoming more elaborate and beautiful in the process. This stunning piece boasts the vital links between what has already been heard and what is to come.
In the meantime, the strings and guitar that open The Sun King tempt three times before the long-awaited keyboard arrives. When it does, this stereo mix contrasts with its recent restriction. Summoning is all about percussive rhythm but it’s important not to ignore the counterpoint which at times becomes the dominant melody.
Mistress of Time begins the four tracks which gradually build to complete the album. Here Jo plays busily alongside a dusty operatic loop. It’s initially unsettling, but through familiarity these two resolve their differences. What follows next is more remarkable: Juno blooms in the wake of Passing / Arriving but nuzzles up to a scratchy, detuned cello which is granted its own little solo for the coda.
The final two pieces, Amber and Mothlight unexpectedly replace the strings with snippets of renaissance music. Amber is the baby of the two – a sleepy diversion from Juno’s perkiness. Mothlight develops further: the ebb and flow of tension that threads carefully through the album is finally released, by using two or three individual piano tracks wrapped around Thomas Tallis’ acclaimed motet Spem in alium. This brings the album to a dazzling and deeply satisfying conclusion.
Jo Gabriel’s most widely available album, Island, is set firmly in the mould of singer-songwriter. Only the brief instrumental If Not hints towards The Amber Sessions and if you love Island I implore you to investigate this too. The Amber Sessions is a fascinating complex piece of work that becomes more impressive with each listen.
The Amber Sessions is available from Jo Gabriel’s website.
