Wendy Eisenberg
Viewfinder
Boomkat Product Review:
Crucial listening for fans of Gastr Del Sol, Van Dyke Parks, Jim O'Rourke or Phil Eluverum, Wendy Eisenberg's jazzy avant-prog-Americana song cycle is a sublimely ambitious triumph. Deconstructing their own song forms as they consider the history of eye surgery, Eisenberg reaches across genre boundaries without losing us for a moment.
Eisenberg always struggled with their eyesight, experiencing constant migraines, blurs, regular discomfort and infections. So in 2011 they opted to treat the issue with laser eye surgery, an experience that roots 'Viewfinder'. "Everything about my relationship to tactility, immediacy and perception changed," they explain. "I had to write myself into clarity about the closeness I now felt to the visual world, how disorienting clarity can be." And as they were writing, Eisenberg began to study the history of vision and its treatment - from Spinoza's lensmaking hustle to Bach's death from complications after he was blinded by Chevalier John Taylor's poor surgery. All of this intrigue feeds into Eisenberg's woozy meditation on sight; they ground the album with the stark, personal opening track 'Lasik', singing candidly about their experiences on the operating table. "Got my eyes fixed up," they burr over Booker Stardrum's fluttering percussion, trombone from Zekereyya el-Magharbel and isolated bass plucks from Tyrone Allen II. "Changing isn't healing," they ponder in response. It's the most straightforward track (lyrically and stylistically) on the album, and provides Eisenberg with a conceptual center point that they break down and reassemble as the song cycle evolves and shifts impressionistically through jazz, post-rock and Americana.
Eisenberg, who's currently based in Brooklyn but made their mark in their hometown of Maryland and Boston, has built up a sizable catalog already, releasing on labels like Tzadik and Ba Da Bing! and lending their skills to the Bill Orcutt Guitar Quartet, NNA noise-punk outfit Birthing Hips and indie-rock trio Editrix. 'Viewfinder' is their weightiest deployment yet, and retreats from easy categorisation; Eisenberg has already proven to be versatile and at this stage in their career, sounds as if they're completely able to lean into their virtuosity without it capsizing the concept. On 'Two Times Water', their jazziest inclinations bubble to the surface, assisted by Chris Williams' willowy trumpet playing and Andrew Links' compelling piano phrases. Eisenberg's voice doesn't make an appearance until the final act, formed into self-harmonizing, choral curlicues that refresh the palate and make us rethink the motion of the entire song. And after the skronk-y 'HM', we're treated to the album's dynamic side-long 'Afterimage', a dramatic blur of call-backs and tonal/rhythmic upsets that serves as a cracked reflection of the entire album. In one constantly mutating composition, Eisenberg captures the motivation that drives each song, curving ice-cold jazz into gunky free improv, Milford Graves-style rhythmic exposition and lilting music hall melancholia.
All this bluster makes Eisenberg's reverberant a capella on 'Set A Course', that's gradually met by sparse, free-flowing orchestrations from the rest of the troupe, sound timely and profound. "I can't hold that weight (anymore)," they mouth, "drag me through the earth." And it's their guitar playing that's most exceptional on this one, shifting from gentle, distorted riffs into tangle flurries of angular notes that skip across the band's psych-jazz backdrop, elevated by some kosmische synthwork courtesy of Links. Eisenberg's use of electronics on the album is subtle, but makes itself known boldly when necessary, helping to nudge 'If An Artist' into the outerzone with glassy, upper-register oscillations and frangible wobbles that break up Stardrum's sophisticated but slender rhythms. It's the album's most unexpected track, beginning in a dimly lit cabaret before it teeters into more unnervingly experimental territory. And this couches the album's shockingly devastating two-part title track - a slow choral experiment that transforms into jerky chamber post-pop - and gloriously sensual slow-mo finale 'In The Pines'. It sounds as if Eisenberg is whisking us through their musical landscape - one they can finally see with full clarity - and their fragile honesty is utterly captivating. "Can you see," they wonder, as if they know the answer.
View more
Boomkat Product Review:
Crucial listening for fans of Gastr Del Sol, Van Dyke Parks, Jim O'Rourke or Phil Eluverum, Wendy Eisenberg's jazzy avant-prog-Americana song cycle is a sublimely ambitious triumph. Deconstructing their own song forms as they consider the history of eye surgery, Eisenberg reaches across genre boundaries without losing us for a moment.
Eisenberg always struggled with their eyesight, experiencing constant migraines, blurs, regular discomfort and infections. So in 2011 they opted to treat the issue with laser eye surgery, an experience that roots 'Viewfinder'. "Everything about my relationship to tactility, immediacy and perception changed," they explain. "I had to write myself into clarity about the closeness I now felt to the visual world, how disorienting clarity can be." And as they were writing, Eisenberg began to study the history of vision and its treatment - from Spinoza's lensmaking hustle to Bach's death from complications after he was blinded by Chevalier John Taylor's poor surgery. All of this intrigue feeds into Eisenberg's woozy meditation on sight; they ground the album with the stark, personal opening track 'Lasik', singing candidly about their experiences on the operating table. "Got my eyes fixed up," they burr over Booker Stardrum's fluttering percussion, trombone from Zekereyya el-Magharbel and isolated bass plucks from Tyrone Allen II. "Changing isn't healing," they ponder in response. It's the most straightforward track (lyrically and stylistically) on the album, and provides Eisenberg with a conceptual center point that they break down and reassemble as the song cycle evolves and shifts impressionistically through jazz, post-rock and Americana.
Eisenberg, who's currently based in Brooklyn but made their mark in their hometown of Maryland and Boston, has built up a sizable catalog already, releasing on labels like Tzadik and Ba Da Bing! and lending their skills to the Bill Orcutt Guitar Quartet, NNA noise-punk outfit Birthing Hips and indie-rock trio Editrix. 'Viewfinder' is their weightiest deployment yet, and retreats from easy categorisation; Eisenberg has already proven to be versatile and at this stage in their career, sounds as if they're completely able to lean into their virtuosity without it capsizing the concept. On 'Two Times Water', their jazziest inclinations bubble to the surface, assisted by Chris Williams' willowy trumpet playing and Andrew Links' compelling piano phrases. Eisenberg's voice doesn't make an appearance until the final act, formed into self-harmonizing, choral curlicues that refresh the palate and make us rethink the motion of the entire song. And after the skronk-y 'HM', we're treated to the album's dynamic side-long 'Afterimage', a dramatic blur of call-backs and tonal/rhythmic upsets that serves as a cracked reflection of the entire album. In one constantly mutating composition, Eisenberg captures the motivation that drives each song, curving ice-cold jazz into gunky free improv, Milford Graves-style rhythmic exposition and lilting music hall melancholia.
All this bluster makes Eisenberg's reverberant a capella on 'Set A Course', that's gradually met by sparse, free-flowing orchestrations from the rest of the troupe, sound timely and profound. "I can't hold that weight (anymore)," they mouth, "drag me through the earth." And it's their guitar playing that's most exceptional on this one, shifting from gentle, distorted riffs into tangle flurries of angular notes that skip across the band's psych-jazz backdrop, elevated by some kosmische synthwork courtesy of Links. Eisenberg's use of electronics on the album is subtle, but makes itself known boldly when necessary, helping to nudge 'If An Artist' into the outerzone with glassy, upper-register oscillations and frangible wobbles that break up Stardrum's sophisticated but slender rhythms. It's the album's most unexpected track, beginning in a dimly lit cabaret before it teeters into more unnervingly experimental territory. And this couches the album's shockingly devastating two-part title track - a slow choral experiment that transforms into jerky chamber post-pop - and gloriously sensual slow-mo finale 'In The Pines'. It sounds as if Eisenberg is whisking us through their musical landscape - one they can finally see with full clarity - and their fragile honesty is utterly captivating. "Can you see," they wonder, as if they know the answer.
Boomkat Product Review:
Crucial listening for fans of Gastr Del Sol, Van Dyke Parks, Jim O'Rourke or Phil Eluverum, Wendy Eisenberg's jazzy avant-prog-Americana song cycle is a sublimely ambitious triumph. Deconstructing their own song forms as they consider the history of eye surgery, Eisenberg reaches across genre boundaries without losing us for a moment.
Eisenberg always struggled with their eyesight, experiencing constant migraines, blurs, regular discomfort and infections. So in 2011 they opted to treat the issue with laser eye surgery, an experience that roots 'Viewfinder'. "Everything about my relationship to tactility, immediacy and perception changed," they explain. "I had to write myself into clarity about the closeness I now felt to the visual world, how disorienting clarity can be." And as they were writing, Eisenberg began to study the history of vision and its treatment - from Spinoza's lensmaking hustle to Bach's death from complications after he was blinded by Chevalier John Taylor's poor surgery. All of this intrigue feeds into Eisenberg's woozy meditation on sight; they ground the album with the stark, personal opening track 'Lasik', singing candidly about their experiences on the operating table. "Got my eyes fixed up," they burr over Booker Stardrum's fluttering percussion, trombone from Zekereyya el-Magharbel and isolated bass plucks from Tyrone Allen II. "Changing isn't healing," they ponder in response. It's the most straightforward track (lyrically and stylistically) on the album, and provides Eisenberg with a conceptual center point that they break down and reassemble as the song cycle evolves and shifts impressionistically through jazz, post-rock and Americana.
Eisenberg, who's currently based in Brooklyn but made their mark in their hometown of Maryland and Boston, has built up a sizable catalog already, releasing on labels like Tzadik and Ba Da Bing! and lending their skills to the Bill Orcutt Guitar Quartet, NNA noise-punk outfit Birthing Hips and indie-rock trio Editrix. 'Viewfinder' is their weightiest deployment yet, and retreats from easy categorisation; Eisenberg has already proven to be versatile and at this stage in their career, sounds as if they're completely able to lean into their virtuosity without it capsizing the concept. On 'Two Times Water', their jazziest inclinations bubble to the surface, assisted by Chris Williams' willowy trumpet playing and Andrew Links' compelling piano phrases. Eisenberg's voice doesn't make an appearance until the final act, formed into self-harmonizing, choral curlicues that refresh the palate and make us rethink the motion of the entire song. And after the skronk-y 'HM', we're treated to the album's dynamic side-long 'Afterimage', a dramatic blur of call-backs and tonal/rhythmic upsets that serves as a cracked reflection of the entire album. In one constantly mutating composition, Eisenberg captures the motivation that drives each song, curving ice-cold jazz into gunky free improv, Milford Graves-style rhythmic exposition and lilting music hall melancholia.
All this bluster makes Eisenberg's reverberant a capella on 'Set A Course', that's gradually met by sparse, free-flowing orchestrations from the rest of the troupe, sound timely and profound. "I can't hold that weight (anymore)," they mouth, "drag me through the earth." And it's their guitar playing that's most exceptional on this one, shifting from gentle, distorted riffs into tangle flurries of angular notes that skip across the band's psych-jazz backdrop, elevated by some kosmische synthwork courtesy of Links. Eisenberg's use of electronics on the album is subtle, but makes itself known boldly when necessary, helping to nudge 'If An Artist' into the outerzone with glassy, upper-register oscillations and frangible wobbles that break up Stardrum's sophisticated but slender rhythms. It's the album's most unexpected track, beginning in a dimly lit cabaret before it teeters into more unnervingly experimental territory. And this couches the album's shockingly devastating two-part title track - a slow choral experiment that transforms into jerky chamber post-pop - and gloriously sensual slow-mo finale 'In The Pines'. It sounds as if Eisenberg is whisking us through their musical landscape - one they can finally see with full clarity - and their fragile honesty is utterly captivating. "Can you see," they wonder, as if they know the answer.
Boomkat Product Review:
Crucial listening for fans of Gastr Del Sol, Van Dyke Parks, Jim O'Rourke or Phil Eluverum, Wendy Eisenberg's jazzy avant-prog-Americana song cycle is a sublimely ambitious triumph. Deconstructing their own song forms as they consider the history of eye surgery, Eisenberg reaches across genre boundaries without losing us for a moment.
Eisenberg always struggled with their eyesight, experiencing constant migraines, blurs, regular discomfort and infections. So in 2011 they opted to treat the issue with laser eye surgery, an experience that roots 'Viewfinder'. "Everything about my relationship to tactility, immediacy and perception changed," they explain. "I had to write myself into clarity about the closeness I now felt to the visual world, how disorienting clarity can be." And as they were writing, Eisenberg began to study the history of vision and its treatment - from Spinoza's lensmaking hustle to Bach's death from complications after he was blinded by Chevalier John Taylor's poor surgery. All of this intrigue feeds into Eisenberg's woozy meditation on sight; they ground the album with the stark, personal opening track 'Lasik', singing candidly about their experiences on the operating table. "Got my eyes fixed up," they burr over Booker Stardrum's fluttering percussion, trombone from Zekereyya el-Magharbel and isolated bass plucks from Tyrone Allen II. "Changing isn't healing," they ponder in response. It's the most straightforward track (lyrically and stylistically) on the album, and provides Eisenberg with a conceptual center point that they break down and reassemble as the song cycle evolves and shifts impressionistically through jazz, post-rock and Americana.
Eisenberg, who's currently based in Brooklyn but made their mark in their hometown of Maryland and Boston, has built up a sizable catalog already, releasing on labels like Tzadik and Ba Da Bing! and lending their skills to the Bill Orcutt Guitar Quartet, NNA noise-punk outfit Birthing Hips and indie-rock trio Editrix. 'Viewfinder' is their weightiest deployment yet, and retreats from easy categorisation; Eisenberg has already proven to be versatile and at this stage in their career, sounds as if they're completely able to lean into their virtuosity without it capsizing the concept. On 'Two Times Water', their jazziest inclinations bubble to the surface, assisted by Chris Williams' willowy trumpet playing and Andrew Links' compelling piano phrases. Eisenberg's voice doesn't make an appearance until the final act, formed into self-harmonizing, choral curlicues that refresh the palate and make us rethink the motion of the entire song. And after the skronk-y 'HM', we're treated to the album's dynamic side-long 'Afterimage', a dramatic blur of call-backs and tonal/rhythmic upsets that serves as a cracked reflection of the entire album. In one constantly mutating composition, Eisenberg captures the motivation that drives each song, curving ice-cold jazz into gunky free improv, Milford Graves-style rhythmic exposition and lilting music hall melancholia.
All this bluster makes Eisenberg's reverberant a capella on 'Set A Course', that's gradually met by sparse, free-flowing orchestrations from the rest of the troupe, sound timely and profound. "I can't hold that weight (anymore)," they mouth, "drag me through the earth." And it's their guitar playing that's most exceptional on this one, shifting from gentle, distorted riffs into tangle flurries of angular notes that skip across the band's psych-jazz backdrop, elevated by some kosmische synthwork courtesy of Links. Eisenberg's use of electronics on the album is subtle, but makes itself known boldly when necessary, helping to nudge 'If An Artist' into the outerzone with glassy, upper-register oscillations and frangible wobbles that break up Stardrum's sophisticated but slender rhythms. It's the album's most unexpected track, beginning in a dimly lit cabaret before it teeters into more unnervingly experimental territory. And this couches the album's shockingly devastating two-part title track - a slow choral experiment that transforms into jerky chamber post-pop - and gloriously sensual slow-mo finale 'In The Pines'. It sounds as if Eisenberg is whisking us through their musical landscape - one they can finally see with full clarity - and their fragile honesty is utterly captivating. "Can you see," they wonder, as if they know the answer.
Out of Stock
Boomkat Product Review:
Crucial listening for fans of Gastr Del Sol, Van Dyke Parks, Jim O'Rourke or Phil Eluverum, Wendy Eisenberg's jazzy avant-prog-Americana song cycle is a sublimely ambitious triumph. Deconstructing their own song forms as they consider the history of eye surgery, Eisenberg reaches across genre boundaries without losing us for a moment.
Eisenberg always struggled with their eyesight, experiencing constant migraines, blurs, regular discomfort and infections. So in 2011 they opted to treat the issue with laser eye surgery, an experience that roots 'Viewfinder'. "Everything about my relationship to tactility, immediacy and perception changed," they explain. "I had to write myself into clarity about the closeness I now felt to the visual world, how disorienting clarity can be." And as they were writing, Eisenberg began to study the history of vision and its treatment - from Spinoza's lensmaking hustle to Bach's death from complications after he was blinded by Chevalier John Taylor's poor surgery. All of this intrigue feeds into Eisenberg's woozy meditation on sight; they ground the album with the stark, personal opening track 'Lasik', singing candidly about their experiences on the operating table. "Got my eyes fixed up," they burr over Booker Stardrum's fluttering percussion, trombone from Zekereyya el-Magharbel and isolated bass plucks from Tyrone Allen II. "Changing isn't healing," they ponder in response. It's the most straightforward track (lyrically and stylistically) on the album, and provides Eisenberg with a conceptual center point that they break down and reassemble as the song cycle evolves and shifts impressionistically through jazz, post-rock and Americana.
Eisenberg, who's currently based in Brooklyn but made their mark in their hometown of Maryland and Boston, has built up a sizable catalog already, releasing on labels like Tzadik and Ba Da Bing! and lending their skills to the Bill Orcutt Guitar Quartet, NNA noise-punk outfit Birthing Hips and indie-rock trio Editrix. 'Viewfinder' is their weightiest deployment yet, and retreats from easy categorisation; Eisenberg has already proven to be versatile and at this stage in their career, sounds as if they're completely able to lean into their virtuosity without it capsizing the concept. On 'Two Times Water', their jazziest inclinations bubble to the surface, assisted by Chris Williams' willowy trumpet playing and Andrew Links' compelling piano phrases. Eisenberg's voice doesn't make an appearance until the final act, formed into self-harmonizing, choral curlicues that refresh the palate and make us rethink the motion of the entire song. And after the skronk-y 'HM', we're treated to the album's dynamic side-long 'Afterimage', a dramatic blur of call-backs and tonal/rhythmic upsets that serves as a cracked reflection of the entire album. In one constantly mutating composition, Eisenberg captures the motivation that drives each song, curving ice-cold jazz into gunky free improv, Milford Graves-style rhythmic exposition and lilting music hall melancholia.
All this bluster makes Eisenberg's reverberant a capella on 'Set A Course', that's gradually met by sparse, free-flowing orchestrations from the rest of the troupe, sound timely and profound. "I can't hold that weight (anymore)," they mouth, "drag me through the earth." And it's their guitar playing that's most exceptional on this one, shifting from gentle, distorted riffs into tangle flurries of angular notes that skip across the band's psych-jazz backdrop, elevated by some kosmische synthwork courtesy of Links. Eisenberg's use of electronics on the album is subtle, but makes itself known boldly when necessary, helping to nudge 'If An Artist' into the outerzone with glassy, upper-register oscillations and frangible wobbles that break up Stardrum's sophisticated but slender rhythms. It's the album's most unexpected track, beginning in a dimly lit cabaret before it teeters into more unnervingly experimental territory. And this couches the album's shockingly devastating two-part title track - a slow choral experiment that transforms into jerky chamber post-pop - and gloriously sensual slow-mo finale 'In The Pines'. It sounds as if Eisenberg is whisking us through their musical landscape - one they can finally see with full clarity - and their fragile honesty is utterly captivating. "Can you see," they wonder, as if they know the answer.
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