Boomkat Product Review:
Stunning record from Colin Stetson, continuing to redefine the saxophone’s role in contemporary music with an innovatively percussive and soaring follow-up to the trio of New History Warfare volumes released by his neighbours at Montréal’s Constellation. This time Stetson takes charge of everything - from engineering to mixing, production and release - to present a gripping document of timeless instrumental virtuosity and visionary solo persistence that somehow sounds like Autechre whipping up an ancient Sufi dervish.
Anchored in spirit and narrative somewhere between NHW:Vol.3  and Never Were The Way She Was , and making pointed use of his instrument’s myriad percussive possibilities, All This I Do For Glory was typically recorded without overdubs of loops to effectively bring the listener unflinching close to Stetson’s practice, like you’re the lone front row spectator facing the artist and his massive bass sax in a huge but deserted auditorium.
Shut your eyes, however, and the man incredibly appears to diffract and multiply into trio or quartet; somehow blowing, singing and knuckling out loping, irregular rhythms thru his instrument all at the same time. To break it down as simply a result of circular breathing, microphone placement and extended technique would be doing the results an immense disservice, though, as Stetson is patently transcending method and style to achieve something far more ambitious and disbelief-suspending in each of the record’s six parts.
Like some archaeoacoustic rendering of Autechre playing unplugged in Plato’s Cave, the results thoroughly play with perceptions of electronic and acoustic music: firstly like a cranky blues geist divined by Áine O’Dwyer in the loping, stomping chamber blues-folk buzz of All This I Do For Glory; and then with supernal, lupine elegance described in the wordless vocals and furtive, zigzagging search-and-destroy tactics of Like Wolves On The Fold; or with a perception-baiting buzz and syncopated convulsion that runs ragged along the line between programmed electronic music, improvisation and modern classical in the supernatural, paraphysical emulation of Between Water and Wind and the naturalistic techno-vortices of Spindrift and In The Clinches; before scrambling previously unscaled heights of polyrhythmic scree and windswept harmonic updrafts with agility comparable to a flock of mountain goats traversing an escarpment in the complexity and fixated, hunched intensity The Lure Of The Mine.
It’s truly rare that we hear artists blur the line between perceptions of acoustic reality and the modelled projections of electronic music with such delirious, remarkable results as these.