T Griffin – The Proposal

Constellation

T Griffin‘s soundtrack for the rather fascinating-sounding film about the life and work of Mexican architect Luis Barragan covers a lot of ground across the thirteen intricate pieces that The Proposal comprises. Using a band that comprises drummer Jim White and Matan Roberts amongst others, he has produced a thought-provoking and diverse suite that takes in smokey jazz, found sounds and drones, but manages to imbue a sense of melancholy throughout the album.

The premise of the film being the locking up, away from the public, of an artist’s work is clearly something which deeply affected both film-maker Jill Magid and T Griffin, and it is that sense of futility or sadness that the latter manages to capture. His juxtaposition of solo studio work and the group efforts make for a wide variety of moods, and the unearthly wine glass sounds that open the album segue into a dramatic full-band outburst leading into a smokey scene with a touch of reticence. The sax is compelling in its subtlety and Jim White’s drums contain the kind of fearlessness that you might expect.

There are steel drums and intertwining electronics, the insistence and sharpness of which change the tone again. It is these volte faces that happen regularly that keep the listener engaged, and if anything give a desire to watch the film. Griffin’s ability to build an emotion in these short pieces and then settle them down again is quite something, and you want to see how these intricate sketches fir into the whole narrative. The gentle, echoing passages can change in the blink of an eye and the next thing you have spare Eastern tones to the horns, and the unexpected arrival of a banjo and violin that lend a countryish air.

“St Gallen”‘s grand and sweeping post-rockish air highlights briefly some of the players’ pedigrees, but disappears into the Latin American flourish of acoustic guitar, evoking wide-open spaces filled with light and the ache of home. I imagine this must have been a difficult film for which to score as there is a sense of disappointment in the story that mustn’t overshadow the necessary hope, and Griffin manages to carefully straddle these two emotions with considerable panache. Pieces like “Poised” capture loss in their descending sequences and low-key instrumentation, and the creeping drone intro of “Architecture Of Noise” is swept ghost like into a grand but funereal rhythm; and it comes to a sudden halt, causing a certain shock.

“The Nun With A Chipped Tooth” is one of the full-band pieces that rise above into a standalone segment, with its moody violin constantly shimmering and a brooding pressure exerted. It feels as if there is a search for something and is pregnant with promise, while the buoyant bass in “As Ever” seems like a resolution, as if there is a way out of this impasse if they could only find it. The surge of emotion in this kind of post-Americana openness gives a certain relief that ends into the final piece. This seems to stand slightly outside of the rest of the album; its low-key melancholy struggling with the percussive strength and jazzy dexterity. The sax is smooth, the drums vibrant and you can’t help but wonder where this sits in the story.

Altogether, this is satisfying but ultimately it sends the listener scuttling for the film to understand the strange tale that has produced this musical narrative. Lovers of all things Constellation will be straight on board and rightly so; but others for whom mystery and intrigue are demands in their music will also find much to enjoy in The Proposal‘s soundtrack.

-Mr Olivetti-