“Instant Classic”
In a musical juncture like today's, where the imbalance between the quality of the offering and the quantity of it vomited onto the market has reached paroxysmal levels, the generalized need to discover masterpieces and classics everywhere is now a dynamic as predictable as it is rarely true.
In the case of Jonathan Wilson's new album (a Californian nearing forty, who arrived at performing music after years spent behind the mixer as a producer), I won't go as far as calling it a masterpiece, but as for it being already a classic, I'd bet some part of my body on it. This “classic status” manifests in a dual manner: on one hand, Wilson is inspired by many great classic authors of the American rock historiography of the late '60s and '70s (for a detailed list, check out the Spotify playlist where he included all the albums that inspired this “Fanfare”), and on the other hand, his music remains easily inscribable within the aforementioned historical coordinates but with a universal and timeless breath.
With “Fanfare”, which follows the already beautiful “Gentle Spirit” of 2011, the surprise effect obviously vanishes because much has been written about Wilson over these two years. Maybe it's too early to be 100% sure, but from the first impressions, “Fanfare” achieves the small miracle of repeating, without repetition, the magic of the previous release. He does this by historically shifting the references more fully into the mid-'70s, perhaps leaving aside the mystical West Coast flair but expanding the sonic spectrum of reference.
Take for example “Future Vision”: orchestral start, slide to follow, and halfway in comes a soul rhythm à la Marvin Gaye with organ and guitar in the foreground. Or “Dear Friend” which starts like an almost Christmas-like carousel, continues rock, stumbles upon a beautiful jazzy interlude very much like solo Peter Green, and ends by picking up the initial theme. The variety is thus the absolute ruler in “Fanfare”, so much so that few tracks are linear, and often those are the less interesting ones (“Love To Love” especially, halfway between Springsteen and a poppified Dylan), the rest is a guided tour through at least two decades of music, led by a guide who knows when to play with citations without being enslaved by them.
Take for example the “Echoes”-like progression of Pink Floyd that emerges in the middle of “Lovestrong”, the mystical aura of solo Crosby that floats imposing in almost all acoustic-leading tracks (“Desert Trip” and “Cecil Taylor” especially, but also the rarefied “Her Hair Is Growing Long”). As written, however, he gives his best when he surprises us, like the entry of the sax breaking the orchestral flow à la Mercury Rev of the title track. Or the flute that appears out of nowhere on the groovy acoustic background of “New Mexico”.
It will obviously be the gentleman Mr. Time who will decide if I'm making a blunder or not, but for now, a place on the year-end podium is booked.
Tracklist
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