On his fifth independent release, John Danley makes brave choices every step of the way. Obviously allowing the music to drive him in unexpected directions on a moment’s notice, the 12 selections wander freely across constantly shifting rhythmic and harmonic vistas.
In the liner notes, Danley admits to ambivalence about conventional song structure and allows that his music is capable of plumbing “the depths of momentary collapse in meter and linearity.” Given that his theme on this album concerns alcoholism and depression, he has found a musical approach — simultaneously abounding in harmonic sophistication and a weary, sometimes melancholic approach to phrasing and structure — that suits his subject matter to a startling degree.
Although the beauty of Danley’s achievement is easy to appreciate, this album of solo acoustic guitar is in no way easy listening. Prepare yourself for a challenging but entirely rewarding experience.
Danley’s 1995 Taylor 512 is gorgeously framed in an ambient recording that emphasizes the guitar’s spikiest overtones, and unflinchingly captures every bonk and finger squeak. Slickness is the least of Danley’s concerns; feel and a genuine devotion to the musical moment take precedence. This is the sort of gutsy album where the opening song (“Unmaking of the World”) happens to be unapologetically out of tune, and the second song is Danley’s first-ever entirely improvisational recording (and a successful one).
While the first clutch of tunes all feel of a piece, mining a similar downtrodden tone, surprising stylistic variations take hold as the album progresses. An almost conventional ballad called “Remembering Lydia”, beautiful and entirely unmawkish, is followed heatedly by one of the most violent flamenco-style pieces you’ll encounter, “Dali & the Hallucinating Bullfighter” (entirely aptly named). Throughout all the selections, Danley’s tone and touch are magnificent.
Impressive for its concision, saying all it needs to say in 35 minutes, this album is a superbly controlled and complete statement. It also features one of the absolute loveliest solo guitar compositions I’ve heard, the rapturous “Christmas For Argyle” — composition and execution of the highest order.
For his ability to be true to some of the darkest subject matter imaginable without ever resorting to simple despair or cheap sentiment, Danley is an artist to respect, admire, and, above all, to listen to, repeatedly.
— Mike Keneally
On his fifth independent release, John Danley makes brave choices every step of the way. Obviously allowing the music to drive him in unexpected directions on a moment’s notice, the 12 selections wander freely across constantly shifting rhythmic and harmonic vistas.