whait (More Eaze & Wendy Eisenberg)
Close Quarters
mari maurice and Wendy Eisenberg use their time prudently on 'Close Quarters', cutting Americana with classical minimalism as they reflect on their life together with a lengthy, ever-evolving etude using banjo, guitar, voice, violin and pedal steel.
'Close Quarters' is deceptively simple, but the clue's in the title. It references the quarter notes that maurice plays repeatedly on banjo throughout the duration of the track, and also the circumstances of cohabitation that led to it being written. The gentle back-and-forth is rooted in rigid theory (Eisenberg is a professor, after all), but it's never laborious - Eisenberg's strums and picked notes dance around and intertwine with Maurice's, giving the piece a casual, sensual quality that's hard to ignore.
At first, it sounds like an Americana-tinged reaction to Steve Reich, and as it develops the romance blossoms: Eisenberg's voice breathes out in dislocated sung and spoken fragments, and Maurice slowly adds violin, pedal steel and almost invisible field recordings. Soon, we're hearing a full-on symphony, with cascading strings and Eisenberg's bass adding even more depth. It stretches out and unravels like a sonnet, reveling in mystery and blossoming when you take the time to examine its perfectly placed wrinkles.
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mari maurice and Wendy Eisenberg use their time prudently on 'Close Quarters', cutting Americana with classical minimalism as they reflect on their life together with a lengthy, ever-evolving etude using banjo, guitar, voice, violin and pedal steel.
'Close Quarters' is deceptively simple, but the clue's in the title. It references the quarter notes that maurice plays repeatedly on banjo throughout the duration of the track, and also the circumstances of cohabitation that led to it being written. The gentle back-and-forth is rooted in rigid theory (Eisenberg is a professor, after all), but it's never laborious - Eisenberg's strums and picked notes dance around and intertwine with Maurice's, giving the piece a casual, sensual quality that's hard to ignore.
At first, it sounds like an Americana-tinged reaction to Steve Reich, and as it develops the romance blossoms: Eisenberg's voice breathes out in dislocated sung and spoken fragments, and Maurice slowly adds violin, pedal steel and almost invisible field recordings. Soon, we're hearing a full-on symphony, with cascading strings and Eisenberg's bass adding even more depth. It stretches out and unravels like a sonnet, reveling in mystery and blossoming when you take the time to examine its perfectly placed wrinkles.
mari maurice and Wendy Eisenberg use their time prudently on 'Close Quarters', cutting Americana with classical minimalism as they reflect on their life together with a lengthy, ever-evolving etude using banjo, guitar, voice, violin and pedal steel.
'Close Quarters' is deceptively simple, but the clue's in the title. It references the quarter notes that maurice plays repeatedly on banjo throughout the duration of the track, and also the circumstances of cohabitation that led to it being written. The gentle back-and-forth is rooted in rigid theory (Eisenberg is a professor, after all), but it's never laborious - Eisenberg's strums and picked notes dance around and intertwine with Maurice's, giving the piece a casual, sensual quality that's hard to ignore.
At first, it sounds like an Americana-tinged reaction to Steve Reich, and as it develops the romance blossoms: Eisenberg's voice breathes out in dislocated sung and spoken fragments, and Maurice slowly adds violin, pedal steel and almost invisible field recordings. Soon, we're hearing a full-on symphony, with cascading strings and Eisenberg's bass adding even more depth. It stretches out and unravels like a sonnet, reveling in mystery and blossoming when you take the time to examine its perfectly placed wrinkles.
mari maurice and Wendy Eisenberg use their time prudently on 'Close Quarters', cutting Americana with classical minimalism as they reflect on their life together with a lengthy, ever-evolving etude using banjo, guitar, voice, violin and pedal steel.
'Close Quarters' is deceptively simple, but the clue's in the title. It references the quarter notes that maurice plays repeatedly on banjo throughout the duration of the track, and also the circumstances of cohabitation that led to it being written. The gentle back-and-forth is rooted in rigid theory (Eisenberg is a professor, after all), but it's never laborious - Eisenberg's strums and picked notes dance around and intertwine with Maurice's, giving the piece a casual, sensual quality that's hard to ignore.
At first, it sounds like an Americana-tinged reaction to Steve Reich, and as it develops the romance blossoms: Eisenberg's voice breathes out in dislocated sung and spoken fragments, and Maurice slowly adds violin, pedal steel and almost invisible field recordings. Soon, we're hearing a full-on symphony, with cascading strings and Eisenberg's bass adding even more depth. It stretches out and unravels like a sonnet, reveling in mystery and blossoming when you take the time to examine its perfectly placed wrinkles.