Having brought us the first-ever 7″ release from Avi C Engel – who has been conducting musical operations since as far back as 2004 – in the circular shape of the choice two-song Bestiary, Woodford Halse’s sibling Fenny Compton imprint now delivers the Toronto-based songwriter’s latest full-length set to these shores.
Released in two distinctively packaged CD variants, which draw upon its creator’s parallel visual arts skillset, Mote continues embedding a physical album catalogue presence for Engel outside Canada that has previously been enabled by the likes of Cruel Nature Records and Wormhole World in the UK. Regardless of distribution modes though, this is a collection that casts a spell across any continental boundaries through its stunningly intimate yet deceptively intricate arrangements and desolate but dreamlike atmospherics.
Whilst forged at the core with poetic lyrical stanzas wrapped around folk idioms, these eight closely threaded pieces unfurl as wider presentations, mesmerically meshed together through Engel’s self-layered vocals, acoustic guitar, bass, gudok and elemental percussion, as well as via guest spots from Tsinder Ash (clarinet and backing vocals), Brad Deschamps (melodica and “guitar pedal ambience”) and Liz Dimo (acoustic guitar). The results are somewhat inscrutable on first inspection and require repeated listens to even come close to unpicking the enigmas encrypted within. Given time though, the magic behind Mote can be decoded to a degree, without detracting from its otherworldliness.This means we find “Nyx” and “Tinderbox” revealed as hushed stripped-down echoes of Citizen Of Glass-era Agnes Obel; “Anything Might Happen” and “The Night Is Old” drifting through woozy middle-eastern mysticism; “Rip Van Winkle” and “Ogre’s Banquet” imagining a more hymnal and less reverb-shrouded Marissa Nadler; the evocative title track conjoining the cinematic scope of Björk’s “Isobel” with late-period Leonard Cohen earthiness; and the closing ache of “Luz” delving into the most haunted passages of Kristin Hersh’s Hips And Makers.
Whilst helpful to aid understanding, such cross-referencing doesn’t fully capture the essence of this genuinely transcendental suite of material, one that is ultimately better listened to than written about. A quiet triumph for single-minded artistic determination, all told.-Adrian-
