Matthew Lien
Bleeding Wolves

The best way to start my Reviewing Year 2016? The idea is always the same, trying to amaze, offer something unexpected. I will take you to a very distant land, an almost untouched place, out of time. Ever heard of the Yukon? It is a remote region in the far northwest of Canada, bordering Alaska; an area slightly larger than Spain, populated by just thirty-five thousand people, with two-thirds abundantly concentrated in the small town of Whitehorse, the capital of this territory. For the rest, Yukon is a land of forests, mountains, tundra, lakes, and rivers, including the famous Klondike, whose valley is a collective imagination synonym for Eldorado. But I'm not here to talk about geography or history, so let's start by saying that Matthew Lien is not native to this land; in fact, he was born in San Diego, practically the polar opposite in climatic and cultural terms, but for about twenty years now, he has been the most famous musical ambassador of Yukon; precisely since 1995, the year "Bleeding Wolves" was released, his first and most representative album.

Then there's another curious fact: "Bleeding Wolves" achieved overwhelming success, but overwhelming indeed, in the order of millions of copies sold and multiple platinum records none other than ... in the Republic of China, commonly known as Taiwan. Strange, right? Much less than it might seem, in my opinion: a musical proposal like that of Matthew Lien, which evokes scenarios of untouched nature, peace, and serenity, cannot help but fascinate, also for cultural reasons, the inhabitants of a hyper-industrialized, urbanized, and frantic state like Taiwan; Wind Music, a local label specializing in traditional Chinese music, evidently realized this, and the investment was amply repaid. Another peculiarity, this album is almost entirely instrumental, only two sung tracks out of ten, and the proposal is a blend between a classic folk, with Irish-Scottish influences, and more orchestral and scenic sounds, in perfect OST style. The instrumentation used is quite varied, as are the proposed sounds; the use of electronics is very limited, "Bleeding Wolves" is a triumph and celebration of nature, a logical choice, therefore. Relative brevity, varied atmospheres, now majestic, now more delicate and reflective, and above all, beautiful melodies, all elements that make this album a very engaging listen with no "dead times", perfect even for those who, like myself, do not have particular familiarity with instrumentals.

With music like this, the most natural and immediate thing you can do is associate images with each track; for example, "Flying Squirrel Creek", an epic ride for flute and uilleann pipes supported by strings and pounding percussion, immediately evokes the flight of an eagle, among peaks and steep slopes, while the title track is more centered around the piano, the main instrument of the album; it echoes with austere, almost nocturnal, almost gothic charm, at least initially, but with veins of poignant melancholy that take over when the acoustic guitar dominates the sound texture; "Bleeding Wolves" perfectly conveys all the enigma and allure of the wolf figure, what it represents in the collective imagination. A solitary wolf, eternally misunderstood, complicated, threatened but always proud, that survives despite everything. The orchestral adagio of "Of Strength And Sorrow" seems to transmit the first lights of dawn in the untouched nature of the Yukon; a gentle light, gradually revealing a vivid and vibrant beauty; with "These Wings" we move from dawn to morning, a blue sky, tall and uncultivated prairies constantly moved by the wind, as far as the eye can see, a light and constant arpeggio dictating the pace of the most folk, most bucolic and idyllic episode of the album. Then there are the poignant "Before The War" and "Tears Over Shetland" with their heart-rending melodies from traditional Celtic airs, the second one is a bit more lively, colored by strings and bagpipes, creating a beautiful crescendo finale, the first is pure elegiac poetry, a melancholic evocation of a lost world.

Regarding the two actual songs, let's start with "Bedtime Stories", a bittersweet and very catchy ballad whose most interesting feature is undoubtedly the use of a vibraphone, adding a more exotic nuance to the piece; for the rest, this is the least convincing episode of the album, syrupy, stiff, radio-friendly in an all-too-obvious way; the sax solo halfway through does not help in this sense and the idealist-environmentalist lyrics are little more than academic. With "Bressanone" fortunately, we travel on totally different levels, yes, there's also a bit of Italy in this album: "Here I stand in Bressanone, with the stars up in the sky, are they shining over Brenner and upon the other side. You would be a sweet surrender, but I must go the other way and my train will carry me onward; though my heart would surely stay, oh my heart would surely stay...". Evidently, Matthew Lien had the opportunity to visit South Tyrol and was enchanted by it, just like me; this beautiful, dreamy and ethereal folk-ballad, interspersed with a lovely flute solo, has a magnetic and evocative charm, and best highlights the voice, not extraordinary but still pleasant and effective, of the adopted Canadian artist. An additional plus for a peculiar and highly fascinating album; listen to it, seriously, this time of year is perfect for these kinds of atmospheres and sounds; it will be a journey through glimpses of rare beauty, and experiencing it with the right spirit, you can't help but love it.