Mar
14
Bridge Carols
Filed Under Updates
This album is rough around the edges, rusty and unkempt like an old glass greenhouse. Glass green bottles ring and bizarre pipes interrupt while Miss Gibson whispers in like a starlet in an evening gown exploring a memory in an old Hollywood suspense sequence. Her hair is a little wind-blown, perhaps, but her pearls are intact and her fingernails are immaculate red. She sweeps through the old halls, caressing the days of yore and wondering where to go now that they are over. And that is how you must hear the association of the voice of Laura Gibson and the music of Ethan Rose in their recent collaboration Bridge Carols.
Rose’s instrumentation doesn’t own the beat; Miss Gibson’s voice chimes in around the edges like she is on tip-toe. That is not a draw-back: it is a choice seeping with sublety. These songs are not commanding because they are residual. Gibson’s and Rose’s extraordinary collaboration is an exploration of mystery – and, down, deep deep down, an exploration of belief. It is an exploration of discovery that challenges your conceptions of music and listening. The music is resonant, and the nuance causes Bridge Carols to emanate come-hither like Lauren Bacall.
Take, for example, “Knife,” my favorite song on the album. The song is about cutting a shadow with a very sharp blade so that you can hold it, save it, dress yourself in it – and, perhaps, not hear its reflection echoing in your mind. “Knife” evokes the memory that defines a life – explores the options of out-growing it, leaving it behind, or learning how to embrace it as a piece of your own self-heritage. This theme of self sine qua non reverberates throughout the album, and makes it a volume of required listening for the inquiring listener.
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