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We should be accustomed to expecting the unexpected from Gravenhurst by now. Even so, the curious energy deficit that hovers over 'The Western Lands' like particularly spirit-sapping smog on first listens seems a bit baffling. Next to the steadily escalating tension, ominous soundscapes and extended freak-outs the outfit's previous releases have been drenched in, the fourth release from Nick Talbot's post-drone-folk outlet sounds frustratingly tame and well-trained, so much so you're tempted to hop inside the stereo apparatus to aim a brisk, energising kick at the listless platter's backside.
Allow it a while to reveal its ample hidden charms, though, and the initially underwhelming 'Western Lands' quickly grows in stature to prove the wisdom of the hackneyed old adverb 'patience is a virtue'. Not to mention pushing Gravenhurst further from their alt-folk origins. 'The Western Lands' is filled with unmistakably modern and highly distinctive music that bids adieu to the bucolic spookiness of past releases (the exception being the murky majesty of 'Song Among The Pine', familiar to fans of foreign flicks from the soundtrack of German film 'Ein Freund Von Mir').
No less than Gravenhurst's stab at creating an infectious pop album, 'The Western Lands' is an even more radical change of direction than the Slint-shaped post-rock bonanza of 2005's slow-burning, sinister 'Fires In Distant Buildings’, although it should be pointed out that Talbot's take on the three-letter word is far removed from the cheesier outbreaks of the catchy stuff. As such, the bittersweet jangle of My Bloody Valentine-inspired first single 'Trust' culminates in a bout of dissonant guitar-mangling worthy of vintage Velvet Underground and the ghostly opener 'Saints' glides by quietly like mist on the surface of a lake whilst an eerie drone picks up speed in the background. The Sandy Denny-inspired highlight 'She Dances', meanwhile, wraps its glacial beauty in 'motorik' Krautrock dynamics and tense riffs, and the album is drenched throughout in the kind of captivating detail that propels impressive tunes into something genuinely exceptional.
Apart from increased prowess on the songwriting department, 'The Western Lands' marks Gravenhurst's evolvement into a tight 4-piece band, as opposed to a home studio-based project run from Talbot's bedroom. As a result, the noisier muscle-flexing moments (the fierce assault of Husker Du-indebted 'Hollow Men', the fuzzed-out shoegazing haze of Fairport Convention cover 'Farewell, Farewell' and the epic instrumental that provides the album with its handle) throb with sharpened dynamics, whilst the calmer workouts, the delicate heartbreak of 'Grand Union Canal', so subdued it toys with evaporating altogether, and the ethereal magnificence of 'Hourglass' to the fore, maintain a hypnotic momentum despite the tenderness with which the musicians handle their instruments.
Concise, melodic, and eminently approachable, but also mysterious, unsettling and richly textured, 'The Western Lands' just might be the most consistently satisfying chapter in the Gravenhurst story to date. Although a certain degree of experimentation and grit is sacrificed for relative restraint and hushed atmospherics, the album's streamlined sound is easily spellbinding enough to justify the gamble. It's about time more people started to take notice of this remarkable band.
