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In Gowan Ring, "Hazel Steps Through a Weathered Home"
While many bands try to find the sound of the future, or use the sounds of the past to create new foundations for the music of today, the enigmatic B'eirth of In Gowan Ring is perfectly happy being firmly rooted in the past. Not the recent past, either, as a passing listen to any of his previous records would find tunes almost medieval in nature.BlueSanct
No percussion is necessary, either, as B'eirth uses his own affected voice, guitar and harp to create this minstrel's art, with occasional guest musicians contributing on a variety of instruments. B'eirth also has a love for odd wind and string instruments, like the sackbut and the cittern respectively, that he and his guest musicians use fondly when others forgot them an age ago. Overall, the songs have a somber feel, as though the innkeeper let the lyre player have a little too much mead, and now the whole room is treated to his many laments on nature and love. Suddenly, it's "Ladies and Gentlemen We Are Floating in Renaissance Fair," with every song reflecting the plaintive longing of a poet's heart. While this may be a lush and beautiful locale, it is not one where everyone can find a place to belong or enjoy staying for a while. B'eirth has crafted his finest collection of songs, with delicately plucked notes and fluid strings sweeping in and out. However, to call it a pleasurable listen would be to belie the heavy tone of the record. These are not just songs about a bonny lass, but yet about the ethereal and existential, with words like "the world becomes a muscle" and "In thrall of weather's wit ally the languished lips." The album is beautifully written, played, and recorded, but the casual listener will have none of it. Hazel Steps is an album for people of another time, just as the conductor B'eirth plays a middle earth Brian Wilson, not born for the time in which he exists. Some may find some touching music of immense meaning here, but for me it fell flat, and I could not bear to listen to it all the way through. Not as torturous as Sir Robin's minstrels, but still not a music dear to my ears and heart. B'eirth, however, is showing a masterful command of this style of music, and many at the tavern would yet swoon to hear his voice. Just don't count me among the mainstays at the bar.
