| Originally a visual artist, James Keeler began the audio project Wilt in 1999 as a way to further his study of texture. Wilt combines seemingly opposing sounds and creates a dark atmosphere that drones and haunts. With Keeler’s latest, Dark Meadows, he tosses another ingredient into the cauldron; Dan Hall’s guitar. Keeler is now joined by another person and Wilt grows past a singular expression and into a collaborative exploration. The rapport is perfect.
The exchange between Hall’s guitar and the other instruments fluctuate throughout the album. For example, on “Amerikan Zombie,” it is angled against a wall of distortion and its melody is forced through the snowy murk. But later, on “Keeper of Lanterns,” the guitar takes a different approach. Here, sober, reverberated strings sift through Keeler’s menacing hum. Each sound plays off of and amplifies the ambience of the other.
The addition Hall’s guitar does not result in a reliance on it. In fact, through most of this album, it is difficult to tell what instruments are creating what sounds. Field recordings, organic guitars, keys, and manipulated effects are all given equal treatment. Wilt’s identity is not established through its tools. It is created by fully-realized sonic experimentation.
“When the Earth Swallows Us Whole” is set-up with a low, barely audible, bubble of ongoing bass which is underscored by tonal feedback. Spacious and echoing barks of higher pitched keys smack the foreground. A thick chord of sound is held as parts of it gain and fade while other parts sit stagnant. Synths combat one another in a messy and violent sequence. The resulting sound is both unsettling and mesmerizing.
It is this relationship of opposites that works as the concept behind the album. Dark Meadows is a blend of the comfortable and the confrontational. It is the melding of the structured and the unexpected. And, perhaps more than anything else, it is a fusion of the biological and artificial. Through clever mixing, intelligent sampling, and adept instrumentation, it is often impossible for the listener to determine what is “actual” and what is “created.”
That is not to say that the field recordings are hidden. “Harmonic Convergence” makes obvious use of chirping birds and buzzing cicada bugs. These creatures are soon accompanied by a melodic acoustic guitar. There is a quick fade-in of backwards electronics that stutter through the track. The fabricated sounds work well against the living clatter and the connection between the two is clearly exemplified. Then, at around the 3 minute mark, the song undergoes a steep drop in temperature. The sounds which were so recently warm and inviting shift to cold and menacing.
The 10 minute, 48 second epic entitled “moonchild,” uses a similar strategy. Buzzing insects and crickets are softly mashed against engineered noises. Once again, the relationships between the combating noises demonstrate the differences while underlining the similarities between them.
The comparison of the organic and the synthetic move past the music and onto the album’s artwork. The cover, which was created by Ben Didier, collages photographic landscapes with illustrative and gestural designs. The album cover to Dark Meadows is like the record itself; difficult, elusive, shadowy, bewitching, and ultimately rewarding. Reviewed
by: Richie Corelli
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