experimental

Lo-fi riffs to drone out to? Simultaneously reminiscent of Jeff Buckley’s demos that comprise Sketches for My Sweetheart the Drunk—particularly “Your Flesh is So Nice”—and Grouper. Sit with it a few times for the structure and melodies to make themselves clear.

Body Sound is the debut from a Chicago trio who have paired off before in various combinations but never as a three. The method is improvise first, sculpt later: string and vocal sessions recorded across three locations, then run through analogue tape loops and effects before being recombined into eleven short pieces.

Some of it is very graceful. “dawn | pulse” opens in clear Max Richter territory. Others go in different directions: “burning | counting (sleeping)” gets agitated and screechy, and “cough | laugh” sets pizzicato plucks against a slowed, smeared swell of strings—the most overtly experimental moment. Cinematic while never becoming background noise.

There’s something faintly perverse about covering an artist’s self-titled debut in full; you’re not just borrowing their songs, you’re borrowing the album that was meant to be them. Asher White seems to know this, and the strangeness is part of the appeal. Pratt’s 2012 record still sounds like nothing else—at once ancient and contemporary—and White, working from a louder, more experimental-pop palette, reimagines it without trying to outdo it. “Mountain’r Lower” becomes something akin to a proper rock song; “Casper” has blasts of noise. Elsewhere, prepared piano and synths drift in where there used to be only fingerpicked guitar. You don’t need to know the original, though, if you do, the recognition is half the pleasure.

Eisenberg’s experimental instincts haven’t gone anywhere: the melodies still take unexpected turns and the guitar work still catches you off guard, but here they’re folded into something closer to the 1970s singer-songwriter tradition. Folky, with jazzy touches. The avant-garde scaffolding of earlier records gives way to songs that breathe differently, and Eisenberg’s voice sits at the centre in a way it hasn’t quite before. The lyrics circle memory, time and youth without tipping into overt nostalgia. If you’ve bounced off their more uncompromising work in the past, this is the way in.