
1 In The Reflection (2:55)
2 Down To Summer (4:38)
3 Crossing By Your Star (2:46)
4 The Bull Who Knew The Ring (3:12)
5 The Dawn Curtain (2:53)
6 Relover (3:24)
7 Gibraltar May Fall (2:25)
8 This Can´t Be My Home (3:37)
9 At Night When The World Goes Quiet (5:49)
10 Black April (3:20)
The Birdtree, The Ivytree, The Blithe Sons, The Franciscan Hobbies... les aventures folk des membres du Jewelled Antler ont pris de multiples identités, notamment sous l'impulsion de Loren Chasse et Glenn Donaldson, sans jamais dévier d'un niveau de beauté et d'apparente simplicité que bien des songwriters de renom peinent à égaler.
Flying Canyon n'est pas directement un projet du collectif, malgré la participation active de Donaldson (percussions, enregistrement, mixage...), mais plutôt la concrétisation des productions de Cayce Lindner, dans un esprit et une communauté de ton bien reconnaissable. Plongé dans l'écho, enregistré à la maison, avec des formats de chansons très courts, l'album écrit par Lindner, déjà à l'origine des superbes disques de The Golden Hotel, est une demi-heure parfaite, fragile, dans le plus pur style du collectif. L'accent est mis sur un son granuleux, aérien, qu'on peine encore à qualifier de lo-fi, soutenant le talent d'auteur de Lindner, proprement époustouflant, et mis en valeur avec un goût irréprochable par Donaldson, qui y rajoute quelques gouttes de clavier, banjo ou piano. Ce qui diffère peut-être le plus Flying Canyon des disques de The Ivytree, par exemple, ou du Giant Skyflower Band, c'est la noirceur générale, l'ambiance très sombre, quoique toujours très poétique, du disque. Une tristesse d'autant plus difficile à apprécier d'une manière uniquement esthétique lorsque l'on sait que Lindner est décédé en février dernier. Le disque n'en devient que plus redoutable encore dans sa beauté. Une perte d'autant plus amère, donc, que Flying Canyon est l'un des enregistrements les plus splendides du Jewelled Antler. Rare.
Webzine Mille Feuilles
The cover of
Flying Canyon’s self-titled debut, at first glance, suggests the title “California doom folk” to which they attach their music: cumulonimbus stretch beyond the frame below, exposing the deep blue of sky above and beyond with just a hint of sunlight spread too thin through the ozone, upon which the brooding image of a bearded Norseman is superimposed. From this introduction, one would expect a far-darker sound than the high-altitude that this album reaches. In fact, the imagery takes on entirely converse meaning as Flying Canyon rarely dip below the stratosphere, instead coasting above and between the clouds, be they thick or thin.
The phantom in the photo is Cayce Lindner, who guides by voice, picks and strums - and who in turn is supported by Shayde Sartin and Glenn Donaldson (both of The Skygreen Leopards) who buzz and pound, respectively. Like a clear day atop a mountain, the music is warming from an angle, yet chilling in the movement of thin air. Inhaling some vintage California, the boys do well to recall their influences without recalling a note: an early dedication to their forefathers (CSN&Y, Eagles above; spookier types below), “In the Reflection” opens the album with booming percussion ushering-in a warm, fuzzy bass line and humble acoustic strumming. Lindner’s voice is alternately bold and reluctant, breaking from the sing-along verses to the wounded chorus. Despite the regular back-up from Donaldson, Lindner’s voice is alone through all his songs, distanced from the spacious bass and beat, and even a little estranged from his own ambling guitar. Slight instrumental adjustments from song to song refresh the album with each track, with highlights plenty. “Down the Summer” exchanges percussion for the subtlety of flute, wafting the gentle tune higher and higher with each note. “Relover” features the creep of a nicely veiled, bubbly organ over dueling acoustic guitars and cloudbursts of bass and drums. Even at its biggest, the band maintains sparseness and melancholy. Though the last track “At Night When the World Goes Quiet” is a nice send-off of day-dreamy slide-guitar ushered off with a brief piece of poetry, unlisted track (“hidden” – really?) “Black April” is the more emotive song, though not necessarily a logical conclusion, ending the album back in the midst of the darkest clouds with no upward orientation. For this retraction, the (fantastic) track plays like a cover (is it?), misplaced at the end of the flight.
Indeed, Flying Canyon are sharpest when at their most melancholy, gloomiest - alright,
doomiest – but I refuse doom folk as a label too narrow to capture the spirit of atmosphere that the band conjures through this album. Whatever, this is a great daytime CD - the kind you play right when you wake up, and again in the early afternoon when you’ve done little but drift in between. Very nice.
Animal Psisold out visit Soft Abusetry