Suche:g s schray

Circling guitar lines; the rise of fall of delicate bass; deep, breathy horns: sonic elements that exist in a state of slow, perpetual motion, like ideas sprouting from some kind of cognitive compost. With wonder and charm, G. S. Schray's new solo album, Whispered Something Good, evokes a realm of new growth while offering a fitting soundtrack for its exploration, as if tailor made for both the daydreamer and silly adventurer.


We start in the darkness of "Unlit Center" with elliptical phrases of jazz guitar. A conversation between double bass, synthesiser, and piano plays out on "In Tears Twice A Page" before we're ushered into the reflective zone of "Another Haunted Mirror." There is synth mist which trumpet cuts through decisively like a shaft of light from the sun: warm and clear. As the album proceeds, firmer rhythms coalesce. On "Prelude for Probably," clattering drums lock into a triumphant groove with horns. And then, to close, the instrumental art-pop of "Gone in Amber," probing not necessarily towards a final destination but another stop-off, one of distant birdsong and the faintest flicker of synth. Intimate and inviting, the act of listening to Whispered Something Good is akin to digging through an imagination. It's a place of subliminal melodies blooming into rhizomatic musical shapes, stray musings coalescing as bolts of inspiration — change fostering yet more change.

One of life's most difficult arts is learning to let go. You can try to cling to control in the face of a turbulent world, but the only constant we can count on is change—the tendrils of cleansing fire wiping away the old, new life springing forth from the dust and ash. So what's the point? Give yourself over to the depths. Surrender to the flow.

G.S. Schray's new solo album The Changing Account is an appropriate soundtrack for learning to cope with a world we can't count on. Each piece is full of elliptical melodies that swirl with the unstable logic of dreams. Flurries of piano, guitar lines, and other more alien instrumentation shimmer delicately, but before they coalesce into familiar shapes or rhythms they change, then change, then change again. Listening is a bit like falling asleep on a long road—with each passing song you're waking up somewhere new, trying to get your bearings in another strange world. How did I get here? Where are we going? It doesn't matter. Close your eyes, drift away again.

"Hi again!

It's been a couple years, but I've put together a new record, this time with my neighbor Stu and a few other friends. Stu's been tuning the piano Linda and I were using for our Lejsovka & Freund and Trouble Books recordings, and I've always enjoyed the test scales and vignettes he would run through checking his work.

I floated the idea to collaborate on a sort of 70s/80s ECM kinda vibe, and soon started bringing my laptop and a couple microphones over to his house to collect his improvisations and have him add to pieces I had started. Other friends from the neighborhood dropped by to add parts here and there as well.

The recordings were made primarily in the summers of 2016 & 2017 (with a break in-between to mourn the triumph of neo-fascism as well as the passing of beloved pets). Ultimately I tried to follow the feel of those summer nights and the tranquility they offered. Open air or at least open windows, drifting along, you know"

-KF, Spring 2018.

Aqueduct Ensemble is a collaboration between Ohio based artist Keith Freund - who has previously released music as part of both Lejsovka & Freund and Trouble Books - and his neighbour Stu, who is a piano tuner and professional pianist. Their debut album together, "Improvisations On An Apricot" is the second release from label Last Resort, and follows G.S Schray's "Gabriel" (2017) - the sleeves for which were both designed by Keith, who does does all the art direction for the label. Beginning life in 2013 as an NTS radio show of the same name, Last Resort is run by Tom Cathcart from his home in London.

“Trash Can Lamb” is a new solo album from Akron, OH-based multi instrumentalist Keith Freund. For the better part of twenty years, Freund has been producing intimate, shape-shifting music on his own and as part of collaborative projects such as Trouble Books, Lemon Quartet, and Aqueduct Ensemble. Here, he concocts a heady, homespun broth of analog synthesis, bit-reduced sampling, piano, standup bass, saxophone, and location recordings, arriving at a loose and evocative set of songs. Throughout the album, we hear 8-bit experimental delays mangling airy acoustic materials, denaturalizing them into primitive loop structures while retaining their golden-hued, melodic cores. The sputters, hisses, and croaks of handmade electronics nuzzle up to wistful piano and saxophone ruminations; the pure pandemonium of chaotic triangle wave patching and filtered noise settles into the serenity of a backyard dusk full of spring peepers (or maybe they’re crickets…). It’s in the space between the ragtag and rough-hewn and the romantic and yearning that Freund situates these compositions; it’s a peek inside a workshop that sits atop the trees, branches scraping on the windows, bluejays who just won’t knock it off, a table fan spinning slower and slower, its cheap blades covered in dust.

All music by Keith Freund, with contributions by Linda Lejsovka, G.S. Schray, Steve Clements, and Corey Farrow.
Mastered by Kassian Troyer at D&M.
Art/design by Alex McCullough and Felix Luke.