Juozas Milasius – guitar, PC on 6. 9.
Recorded & mixed by Kiskiukopustu Records. Mastered by Raimundas Trilikauskis. Photo and graphic design by Darius Ciuta. Produced by Juozas Milasius. Made in Lithuania, 2009
Tracklist: 1. So Light [2:50] 2. Scalpel Sad [4:38] 3. Icy [2:28] 4. The Rowels of Spirs [5:53] 5. Seasickness [8:28] 6. Pawnshop Accountant [3:12] 7. It’s Rare Air Here [5:22] 8. Spray Drift [5:39] 9. Kino [4:48] Total Time: [41:18]
This is a rare thing:
an album of guitar music where the guitar isn’t really the point. Put a different way, it’s the ideas that are given the focus, not the chops. There are many jazz players out there who do put the music ahead of the flash (Bill Frisell being a prime example), but hardly ever in a solo setting.
With Slow, Lithuanian guitarist Juozas Milasius puts himself in the company of both Frisell and maybe Marc Ribot with this collection of 6-string (and occasional computer-aided) reveries. ‘Jazz’ isn’t the right word to use here and yet I hesitate to bring out the old ‘avant-garde’ because its harsh connotations might frighten away the newcomers. Can I make up a new genre? Post-garde, maybe?
In any event, Milasius builds some very sparse sound environments, mostly using the unadorned electric guitar aided by some reverb effects. Tones and chords are set adrift and the ideas that they spark are acted upon in very subtle ways. Taking “Icy” as an example, a single tone opens the piece followed by the chord that it’s a part of. Time progresses and various extensions to the original chord float in and out as that first note hangs around acting as a pedal tone. It’s like the chord is being slowly constructed and destructed at the same time.
“It’s Rare Air Here” is one of the tracks that brings Marc Ribot to mind. A melody is slowly played out, with its underlying support harmony kept far in the background. It’s brooding and spooky and beautiful all at the same time — quite an accomplishment. And again, the lines are constructed from a minimal amount of source material. ‘Efficient’ seems like a cold and inappropriate word, but it almost fits. This direction started off with the opening track “So Light,” during which Milasius deploys a melodic line in the manner of Morricone (by way of Gerry Garcia circa Zabriski Point).
Many of Slow’s compositions are very ruminative in nature. The listener can almost feel the thought processes rumbling below the surface. “Pawnshop Accountant” fits that model as does “Seasickness,” and “Scalpel Sad” (a title I do not wish to think about). Chords produce single notes…which melt into the next chord…and on.
And then there’s “The Rowels of Spurs.” Part deconstructed surf tune, part warped soundscape, the music tries to tell you a story while the story is perhaps falling apart. There are again echoes of Ribot and Frisell here, not so much as direct reflections but as a continuation of that new tradition of oddball musical yarn-spinning. Great stuff, even if impossible to describe; maybe even great because it’s impossible to describe.
Slow is indeed a rare thing: a provocative, organic, post-garde solo electric guitar record. Whatever that means. — Mark Saleski
Guitarist, composer and author
of various performances, the enfant terrible of the Lithuanian jazz scene. Probably no other Lithuanian jazz musicians has stirred up so much controversy as the experimenting conceptualist Juozas Milašius. Having made his stage debut in 1986, he earned the reputation of the most uncompromising jazzman in Lithuania, entering the areas of total free, uncontrollable noise and bizarre sounds, provoking both unconditional admiration and relentless opposition. Completely overtaken by the guitar, Juozas Milašius has tested the limits of this instrument playing solo and experimenting in various projects with improvisers, electronic and experimental sound artists. — by Jūratė Kučinskaitė
CD version (incl. shipment cost world-wide)