It must be said off the bat that this reviewer is no connoisseur of guitarists who shred. There are, of course, the obvious deterrents: the preening heavy metal cliches for one. But shredding is not confined to this genre, one only had to witness the ultra talented James Sedwards (of Nøught/Thurston Moore’s band) play to a roomful of dropped jaws, to see and feel what it can be like. Pireh has created a fascinating album, one that feels like bluegrass played in loops, like developing thought channeled through experimentation.
I was, too, interested to listen to an album that talks about distortion and shredding as a higher state of consciousness, liberation, unifying people in times of polarisation, and questioning an industry placing artists in silos that are hard to break out of. To Pireh, it’s seemingly all about love, love for artistry, for the unison of human and spiritual, of musicality and most importantly connection with others.
And this album has many surprises to the somewhat untuned ear. ‘We Can’t All Be Alive At The Same Time’ feels like an object of one’s desire tantalisingly and fleetingly just out of reach but pulling at you like the Pied Piper. The track is pattern rich, almost pastoral and trippy, and has unexpected shifts and turns, like watching contents of a Petrie dish under a microscope, or like peering from the balcony of a busy airport where people seem to swim past and through each other through dust rich summer air.
On ‘Free Palestine’ I am reminded in some small way of the sublime qualities of Vini Reilly’s Durutti Column. And through the fuzz of hazy distortion you find yourself submerged and leaning in closer as the track swells, a feeling of slivers of hope.
The title track ‘Thank You, Guitar’ is loop after loop of incredibly fast, seriously complex playing that feels like I should be paging Wes Anderson to come contract his next in-house composer. In my mind’s eye I see deserts, streams and hyperreal coloured halo’s looming into view. It feels like a journey song – and a love song – to taking the undulating side roads and what they bring forth.
Interestingly, Pireh reports that the title track ‘Thank You, Guitar’ was first conceived in part in 2014 and he had battled with it since for ten years, whittling away, losing aspects, testing himself, both picking and using his fingers until one day, after much perseverance it all fell into place, and the track lay cajoled, melded and responding like clay under one’s fingertips after many wonkily thrown pots. This track is a great tribute to his determination until what persistently slips through the water suddenly yields, belly up.
In many ways Thank You, Guitar is an act of belief, of devotion, and a testament to Pireh’s vision and grit. A message, perhaps, about flux and transformation. Like holding each other’s arms walking through a thick sea fret, stopping to realise the distorting haze is to be as cherished as the complex landscape it temporarily envelopes.
