Ben Von Wildenhaus Brings His Gorgeously Entrancing, Lynchian Guitar Back to Brooklyn

by delarue

Guitarist Ben Von Wildenhaus is a connoiseur of noir. He’s also one of the best loopmusic performers around. Loopmusic is as brutally difficult to play live as it is easy to record: you lay down a phrase, preferably a simple, catchy one that you can harmonize with, and then play over it, again and again. Onstage, if you miss a beat, you’re screwed, but Von Wildenhaus has done this to the point that he has it in his fingers. His new album II is streaming at Soundcloud, and available on delicious vinyl. He’s also got a show coming up at Troost in Greenpoint on July 9 at 9 PM accompanied by a diversely talented cast: vocalists Clara Kennedy and Scott Matthew, resonator guitarist Zeke Healey and violist Karen Waltuch.

The album’s opening track, Bad Lament is basically variations on the Twin Peaks theme with boomy drums, a balmy bocal choir, tersely suspenseful Rhodes piano, spiky twelve-string guitar. Hard to argue with a classic riff and what a talented cast can do with it…but not crediting Angelo Badalamenti’s original is a crime. The originals start, essentially with the first part of The Knife Thrower, a fast, shuffing, surfy take on a noir bolero, veering between tremoloing Lynchian twang and surfy staccato phrases, a smudgy loop taking the place of the drums.

From the title, you might think that Al Azif would be a Middle Eastern theme, but instead it veers from a Frisellian pastoral soundscape into eerie, more ambient shadows, an attempt to evoke a creepy, H.P. Lovecraft insectile atmospherics. For whatever reason, the next track, Bad Motherfucker is a slinky Egyptian snakecharmer theme punctuated with tersely spiky layers of guitar and Rhodes electric piano. Then Kennedy sings the torchy, slowly swaying, ominously crescendoing ballad Tú in Spanish, up to a smoky baritone sax solo over shivery, reverberating Rhodes electric piano and guitar.

Side two of the album opens with Bad Lament II, a less thinly disguised version of that iconic theme, veering toward more skronky terrain: think Tonic, 2006. The second version of The Knife Thrower slows it down to a simmering, halfspeed intensity, a white-knuckle tension between the echoey Rhodes and lingering, twangy guitar building a Morricone-esque southwestern gothic tableau.

An Nur follows a stern, woundedly stark upward trajectory over an almost imperceptibly pulsing backdrop: it’s arguably the catchiest track here. Easy Opium, arguably the album’s strongest and most anthemic cut, pairs elegant Rhodes bolero-psych riffage against Ethopian-flavored violin, with a jagged sax/guitar conversation on the way out. The album winds up with Two, an anguished ballad, like Botanica lost in the desert and the only track with actual lyrics. One of the most cinematic and consistently interesting albums to come out so far this year, it’s something you could put on loop and discover something new in every time – maybe something about the music, maybe something about yourself, if you aren’t afraid to look in the mirror.