Grouper - The Man Who Died In His Boat
- Written by Paul Stephen Gettings
Perpetually calling out from behind a dark cloud of fuzz, analogue hiss and shuddering tape delay, Grouper's music may be quiet and distant, but it makes a big impression on those who take the time to peer out at it.
The moniker of Portland, Oregon's Liz Harris, the songwriter who has been slowly gathering status as one of the most unique, spellbinding artists around today, particularly on the back of her stunning, hypnotic live shows. The Man Who Died In His Boat, her latest release, is something of a look back to earlier releases, but still has plenty of new thrills to offer us.
Made up of songs taken from the recording sessions of 2008's lauded Dragging A Dead Deer Up A Hill, we could be forgiven for expecting this album to be a mismatched collection of odds and sods perhaps better suited as the second disk of a special edition or reissue. However, the pleasant surprise of The Man Who Died In His Boat is how much it stands up as an album in its own right. While tracks such as 'Vital' and 'Towers' definitely wouldn't seem out of place amongst the submerged campfire strums of Dragging A Dead Deer Up A Hill, elsewhere are songs reminiscent of the sparse, deconstructed atmospherics of her next records, 2011's double EP set A I A: Dream Loss and A I A: Alien Observer.
Much like some of A I A's less dense numbers, 'Vanishing Point', with its eerie, distorted piano, veers in and out of view and is often closer to silence than anything else. Album opener '6' is a ghostly squall of noise that never quite resolves into something melodic, although it's hard to tell with Grouper. There's usually a melody in there somewhere. The gorgeous 'STS' is the highlight of the more ambient tracks here, and perhaps of the album overall; a tidal swell of muffled guitar that captures a strange sense of beauty and brutality, of agoraphobia and loneliness, of chaos and peace.
One of the more surprising revelations of The Man Who Died In His Boat is album closer 'Living Room'. As the tumult of 'STS' fades into the distance, we are met by Liz and her acoustic guitar, clear and luminous in the fog. Never have we heard her Portlandian drawl so unobscured, so unadorned, as it is here. It's a beautiful payoff and an incredible climax to the album; after so long playing lighthouse in the waves and the mist, Harris finally lets us approach as she sits down and plays.
The Man Who Died In His Boat is out now and available from amazon