I suspect that writing about this will finally see me found out for the know-nothing scrote on the internet that previous postings have merely hinted at to various degrees. For this is not the usual album for me, and as it deals with music that is generally more “proper” than anything that I am normally used to, and I find myself a bit out of my depth to try and describe at length a collection of music that moves me in a very subtle and gentle manner, but moves nonetheless.
I suspect that it’s the use of the word ‘Opus’ that makes me nervous. It’s a term that suggests a certain seriousness about the work in hand that is absent from, say, a Ned’s Atomic Dustbin EP. And it certainly is a serious record. But it’s warm and involving rather than sensible and po-faced, triggering a synaesthetic response certainly from this scribbler’s perspective.
There are a couple of opi on Lumiere, and other numbered and largely unnamed tracks make up the majority here. Far from being impersonal though, these compositions are obviously something close to O’Halloran’s heart and do not necessarily require signposting as to their origins or meanings. He is joined by the aptly-monickered Acme Quartet – I may know the sum total of sod all when it comes to knowing what makes a good technical performer, but these guys truly bring out the colours in Dustin’s compositions and arrangements, taking centre stage when he unselfishly holds the background together, or swapping roles to allow his gently chiming piano to soar.
This is the first Dustin O’Halloran album I have heard. I have heard his work with other people (the last two Soulsavers albums, and recent collaborative work with Josh T. Pearson) and his gentle style, breathing in time and in tune with their music was a genuine joy, and was what steered me towards finally shelling out for one of his own records. This new release naturally retains these qualities, but given his own space to create and flesh out his own ideas, his playing and the contributions of those with him expand patiently and powerfully so that each song utterly captivates the listener.
This is slightly a slightly shorter writeup than I usually manage, but this is solely due to a reluctance on my part to single out the strong points of individual tracks as Lumiere works best as a complete whole that belies its somewhat trim 43 minutes; the dreamlike qualities of the performances stretch this time out in the best way possible.
Since I started this blog just under a year ago, I have found that the new records I’ve encountered that have become closest to my heart are the ones that I least expected to take to. This is no exception to that rule, an album that has seen me venture outside of the fields I would normally choose to listen to but am ultimately glad that I have taken those extra steps. And I would certainly urge anyone else to do likewise.
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